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#the winter soldier series

urdepressedslut · 10 months

Text

You’re Mine, Sunshine (masterlist) ♡

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader (Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au)

♡ Series Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Series Warnings: mentions of amputation, dark themes, violence, death/death threats, talk of parent death, fluff, angst, stalking, daddy issues, anxiety attacks/panic attacks, abuse, depression, depressive episodes, PTSD, dry humping, hints to smut, (warnings to be added as new chapters are released)

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine ☀️

(SERIES ONGOING)

Last Updated: 9/8/23

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+

⇨ Chapter One

↳ After Pierce interviews Bucky for the job, he warns him of you. Bucky is starting to rethink his decision, but when he meets you... you're not what he expected.

⇨ Chapter Two

↳ Bucky takes you home, and later finds you in the library. You both get to know each other a little better, but Bucky is hesitant.

⇨ Chapter Three

↳ Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.

⇨ Chapter Four

↳ You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.

⇨ Chapter Five

↳ Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

⇨ Chapter Six

↳ Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?

⇨ Chapter Seven

↳ Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?

⇨ Chapter Eight

↳ After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.

⇨ Chapter Nine

↳ After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.

⇨ Chapter Ten

↳ Someone comes knocking at your door in the morning. Bucky answers and is surprised with who he finds. Are they going to help them or hurt them?

⇨ Chapter Eleven

↳ The tension can't be ignored anymore between you and Bucky. Steve shows up and he's not alone.

⇨ Chapter Twelve

↳ Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.

⇨ Chapter Thirteen

↳ Your dreams consist of random memories of your parents, but are they really random? Despite the past days of hell—you still find it difficult to resist Bucky. You two spend a heated morning together, devouring each other while you still have these moments.

#bodyguard bucky barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #fluff #angst #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #beefy bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bodyguard au #mob au #mini series #bucky barnes fanfic #masterlist

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buckrecs · 11 months

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Sex Pollen

masterlist | req masterlist

Play Pretend by @wkemeup

When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.

In The Dust by @metalbuckaroo

at a shack after a mission, Bucky realizes the ‘dust’ that he thought wouldn’t be effective anymore needs to be brought up. You insist partners are suppose to communicate with each other.

addicted to you by @bonky-n-steeb

you find Bucky to be irresistible after you both get affected by sex pollen.

Left Gasping For Air by @bucksfucks

doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.

Take You There by @heli0s-writes

Sam plays a game called Fuck or Die. It's like he willed it into existence as you and Bucky explore the basement of an old Hydra lair.

Chemical Reactions by @slut4buckysarm

bucky barnes joining in on your solo mission was the worst part of the night. that was until the both of you got dosed with sex pollen.

Daisies by @rebeccccccaaa

Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen.

burning desire by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

after being sprayed with sex pollen on a mission gone wrong, bucky is the only man who can help you. the issue? you hate his guts.

A Piece of His Heart by @thefanbasewhore

Bucky has been struggling with himself for a few months now but never reaches out for help. In order to confront him, you lock him in the lab but only to find out it was on lockdown for a reason and you're now stuck to quarantine with him

only the two of us by @barnesafterglow

stuck together, you and bucky find yourselves in an unfortunate position (or maybe not)

Mean It by @gogolucky13

You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

your hands have made some good mistakes : part 21 by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

The team comes home for a pre-Thanksgiving gathering. Everything is going swimmingly, until Thor breaks out the Asgardian whiskey.

Little Bit of Pollen by @simsadventures

You and Bucky are both Avengers, but that doesn’t mean you have to like each other. What happens when you two are the only one present when you breathe in a sex pollen?

Dosed by @moonstruckbucky

Sex pollen? Sex pollen.

keep your eyes on the road (aka an unexpected sex pollen adventure) by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Honestly, this is what Bucky gets for not listening to you.

for your own good by @witchywithwhiskey

bucky barnes is gifted a strange-looking plant but when you, his closest friend in avengers tower after steve rogers, touches the leaves, it lets out a strange cloud of pollen. both you and bucky soon feel the effects of the plant's pollen and, though bucky's worried about hurting you, you know he never would—and you need his help. desperately.

Petals by @biteofcherry

Bucky and reader is stuck in a cabin in the woods.

Desperate by @buckets-and-trees

Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Thrill me, Fulfill me by @samodivaa

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Imagine by @buckyalpine

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #sex pollen #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes sex pollen #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x hydra!reader

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 1 month

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𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

「 ✦ bucky barnes ✦ 」

╰┈➤18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

𓇼 video games by @twoghostsfromeden

𓆉Sam Wilson attempts to teach Bucky how to play video games, but you have a different idea

𓇼 just like dad by @ladyfallonavenger

𓆉 The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.

𓇼 coming in hot by @nexusnyx (ao3 link)

𓆉When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.

Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.

Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.

𓇼wallpaper by @cosmicbucky

𓆉 bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.

𓇼 consequences by @duuhrayliegh

𓇼@ellemj

𓆉 letters to santa pt2

𓆉 need and wants

𓆉 against the rules

🫧 Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

𓆉 i hate you

🫧 y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure

𓇼 trust by @kgficz

𓆉Set during the end of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. You had been forced to work as a nurse for Hydra’s soldiers, you never expected The Winter Soldier to be one of them. What happens when he starts to care about you?

𓇼 glitter and goo by @welldonebeca

𓆉 When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up

𓇼 accidental pic by @mostlymarvelsstuff

𓆉Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally

𓇼 just friends by @cadaverousnight

𓆉A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder

𓇼 @espinosaurusrexex

𓆉Worlds Collide

🫧 The world is ending. And there are two types of people: The ones that embrace the last pieces of happiness left, and the ones that just don’t bother anymore. When those two clash, there’s no way of knowing what will happen. But maybe, some hopes and dreams aren’t so different after all and the both of them get a chance at becoming more than just acquaintances.

𓆉 refuge

🫧 You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep – lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?

𓆉happy little accidents

🫧 In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

𓆉serious questions

🫧 Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.

𓆉 bad boys don’t buy flowers

🫧 Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

𓆉request oneshot

𓆉 remember me

🫧 After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

𓇼 @pellucid-constellations

𓆉 unexpected

🫧 With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person you’d find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldn’t make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasn’t a feat you could manage alone

𓆉 i need him like water

🫧 You think Bucky’s having an affair. He thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. But he must notice the living room light is left on. Every night.

𓆉 flowers in the compound

🫧 That girl from the flower shop seems to be taking up a lot of Bucky’s time.

𓆉 request one shot

🫧 You knew Bucky didn't like his arm. You just didn't know how much until he accidentally hurt you with it.

𓆉 counting

🫧 Time heals all wounds. Bucky’d been holding onto that proverb ever since blip. But time had never been particularly kind to him, so he opted to keep track of the sweet girl’s in his apartment building instead, the one that made him banana bread and took him to diners at two in the morning. Sometimes, you didn’t keep the same schedule. That made Bucky panic.

𓇼 everybody talks by @nickfowlerrr

𓇼 @buckyalpine

𓆉come back to you

🫧 What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform.

𓆉 did you hear

𓆉 40s bucky w/ nurse!reader

𓆉 sunshine

𓆉 spiral

𓆉 pick me

𓆉 untouched

𓆉 tongue twister

𓆉 wait what pt2 pt3 pt4

𓆉 can you not pt2 pt3

𓆉 choices pt2

𓆉 drabble

𓇼 aching by @bbyboybucket

𓆉After Reader gives Bucky a massage, he realizes how much he likes her touch

𓇼 tiny match maker by @jamdoughnutmagician

𓆉 Adjusting to his new life outside of the superhero business, Bucky makes the acquaintance of a very young, inquisitive girl.

𓇼 metal arm brrr by @bombsonboard

𓆉 Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

𓇼 the cards were dealt by @bucky-fricking-barnes

𓆉Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

𓇼 @holylulusworld

𓆉 a different kind of valentine pt2

🫧 Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

𓆉 happy birthday big grump

🫧 Your new neighbor is a professional grump. No reason to not be nice to him on his birthday.

𓆉 april fools day (stucky x reader)

🫧 Steve and Bucky ask you to join their prank.

𓇼 siren be bound to me by @darkdemeter

𓆉He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him.

And yet overboard and on the tide you set sail across in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul... a song so familiar yet unknown.

Forgotten. And Bucky reminds you yet again that there no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there

𓇼 to have and to hold harm by @queers-gambit

𓆉after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become

𓇼 @thighs-of-betrayal-blog

𓆉 jealous bucky

𓆉 request oneshot

𓆉 hold the door

🫧 You’ve never met your new neighbor, not until an incident happens involving the apartments elevator.

𓇼 out of practice by @drabbles-mc

𓆉 reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years

𓇼 @jobean12-blog

𓆉 next door to love

🫧 When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

𓆉 this spells love

🫧 Bucky is your best friend and he really is the best but he wants more, he wants everything, but the idea that it could ruin your friendship and he could lose you is too much...

𓆉 boom clap

🫧 Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.

𓆉 everything you want

🫧 there’s no one you trust more than your husband and he always knows exactly what you want.

𓇼 meet my family by @skaye44

𓆉Your parents want to meet your boyfriend Bucky which you agree, but the whole family invites itself along for the meeting.

𓇼 my sun my star pt2 pt3 by @cosmos-coma

𓆉 You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you

𓇼 @mrsbarnesblog

𓆉 my everything

🫧 The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before

𓆉 i trust you

🫧 when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help

𓇼 5+1 by @mrs-illyrian-baby

𓆉 Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk

𓇼 just like that by @navybrat817

𓆉Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier.

𓇼 @sergeantbuckybarnes

𓆉 begin again everything i wanted

🫧 When you go to meet your friend at her work you see a cute guy had been stood up, so you’re going to be the best date of his life.

𓆉 amnesia

🫧 During a fight in Madripoor you get hit in the head resulting in forgetting the last ten years of your life. And most important, your boyfriend.

𓇼 @angrythingstarlight

𓆉 diamonds

𓆉 chubby!bucky

𓆉 more chubby baker! bucky

𓆉 blow me away

🫧 You just discovered that your boyfriend has never had a blowjob before and that’s a travesty. Good thing you’re about to blow his mind.

𓇼 @literaryavenger

𓆉 not so bad

🫧 It's Bucky's birthday, but doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.

𓆉 happy birthday

🫧 It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you

𓇼 body and soul by @theladybarnes

𓆉 Reader has a conversation with Sam that leaves her a little confused before her date with Bucky. Includes probably the best romance movie quote to ever grace films.

𓇼 you’re my desire pt2 by @marvelouslizzie

𓆉Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

𓇼 she chose me by @notafunkiller

𓆉Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

𓇼 bucky has a crush by @assembletheimagines

𓇼 buckyvision by @fictionalmemoirs

𓆉 pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt5.5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10

𓇼 @christowhore

𓆉 eye for an eye

🫧 you come home one night to find bucky in bed with another woman. after threatening divorce, he begs for your forgiveness and tells you he'll do anything. he should’ve known to always be careful with what you wish for.

𓆉 just one more minute

🫧 you grow tired of bucky constantly leaving you in dark when it comes to his feelings. finally, you have enough.

•masterlist

• marvel masterlist

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last update april 4, 2024

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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sunnymoonxx · 2 months

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❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader

pairing: tfatws bucky x reader summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha

a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.

m.list

You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.

10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.

It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.

You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.

Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.

"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.

"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.

You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.

You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.

"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.

"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.

You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.

It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.

Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.

"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.

You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.

"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.

"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.

"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.

"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Ideally, both.

Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.

"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.

God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.

"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heart sank. Holy fuck.

You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.

"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.

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kaynothanks · 1 month

Text

On His Collar | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Warnings: bucky’s one jealous boi, lil bit of violence, no smut which (for me) really is surprising, smooching, being caught

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands off you and your brother notices

Word-Count: 12.3K

With a nervous gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you were only half-aware of your leg's relentless fidgeting. Your eyes remained affixed to the world beyond the car window, the landscape blurring as the vehicle, courtesy of Zemo's orchestration, sped on. Vague details of the city drawing closer had filtered through to you via documents and whispers; the scant knowledge of its shadowy dealings enough to stir an unsettling churn within your chest. From a distance, Madripoor was breathtaking, its myriad lights flickering through the rain's swift descent, captured momentarily on the glass before you.

This fleeting illumination conjured memories of a night several months prior, when a call in the deep, silent hours had pierced your tranquility. Urged by his voice, laced with an unspoken desperation, you hadn't hesitated. Your car had cut through the sleeping city of New York, a beacon in the dark, drawn to alleviate his turmoil. The lights of that night, though bearing a resemblance to the ones now stretched before you, held a beauty tinged with a personal touch, perhaps making them appear even more enchanting.

You released a breath tinged with anxiety, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the scant dress that, for reasons unknown, Zemo had at his disposal. The material, with its thinness and the overlay of silver glitter, chafed against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. However, the knowledge of Zemo's opulent wealth lent you the perspective that this barely-there garment might indeed possess a value surpassing the collective worth of your entire wardrobe.

"You good?" came your brother's voice, close enough to stir the air by your ear, pulling your attention sharply towards him.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself studying him, ensnared in your own whirlpool of anxiety. The furrow of worry etching deep between his brows sent a sharp pang through your heart. Witnessing this, a desperate plea bubbled within you, a silent yearning for him to cease his endless vigil over you—to halt his attempts at shielding you from every conceivable harm, to stop viewing you through the lens of perpetual childhood, to simply cease the worry that seemed to etch itself into his very being. The thought of being the source of such profound distress, such tangible sorrow for him, was more than you could bear. Heaven knows, the troubles you'd landed yourself in, the predicaments from which he'd extricated you time and again, were countless, far beyond what your fingers could tally.

Sam was the epitome of the brother everyone should be blessed with. From the tender years of your childhood, he had been the figure you looked up to, the beacon that guided many of the choices that had shaped your life. And in the wake of your father's passing, his protective instincts didn't just increase; they surged, enveloping you in a steadfast, unwavering care. He was your rock, your constant, in a world that seemed all too ready to shift beneath your feet. Always there, without fail.

Your decisions often found themselves at odds with his views, sparking debates that seemed as endless as they were passionate. A vivid memory that stood out was when you announced your intention to follow in his footsteps and join the Marines. What ensued was a marathon two-hour discourse, laden with reasons he believed painted a vivid picture of why the military was a mismatch for someone like you. You had absorbed every word, every concern, yet your resolve had remained unshaken. In hindsight, the wisdom woven into his admonitions might have merited deeper consideration, a realization that dawned on you with greater clarity once you found yourself deployed to the turbulent south.

It was there, amidst the chaos and the distance from home, that you began to truly comprehend the depth of Sam's anxiety for your well-being—a sentiment that became reciprocal as concern for your family gnawed at you. Sarah, battling to keep the family business afloat while nurturing two young boys in Sam's absence, became a focal point of your worries. Meanwhile, Sam's life, veiled in the secrecy of countless missions, left a chasm between your shared experiences. Often, he returned with stories he couldn't share, silences that spoke louder than words, deepening your understanding of the burdens he carried and the protective shield he tried to extend over you from miles away.

Had you heeded his words, the tapestry of your life might have been woven with different threads, perhaps even brighter hues. Imagine a reality where you had chosen to stand by Sarah's side, absorbing the tranquility of domestic life rather than the chaos of battle. In that alternate existence, your path would never have intersected with the harrowing battlefield against Thanos. Your presence in the thick of that fight was nothing short of serendipitous, a stark coincidence born from a casual visit to him just as the alarm bells of invasion clanged their ominous toll.

The details of your unexpected journey to Wakanda are shrouded in the mists of adrenaline-fueled urgency, a memory blurred at the edges by the sheer intensity of facing an extraterrestrial threat for the first time. It was an initiation by fire into a reality far removed from anything you had ever known or imagined.

Yet, amidst the whirlwind of chaos and the blur of combat, one memory stands etched with crystal clarity—the visceral sensation of teetering on the brink of oblivion. The cold brush with death is an experience that lingers, a stark reminder of mortality that paints every moment with a sharper contrast, a memory that forever shapes your understanding of life, resilience, and the fragility of existence.

You had weathered the storms of human conflict, battles steeped in the folly and hubris of mankind, but never before had you faced a legion from beyond the stars, intent on culling half of all life in the universe. In the shadow of such an unfathomable threat, your own mortality had seemed inconsequential, dwarfed by the incalculable lives teetering on the edge of annihilation. Driven by a newfound recklessness, a fiery resolve to make a difference, you had abandoned the post Sam had painstakingly chosen for you. You had forsaken safety, charging headlong towards Thanos, the architect of doom.

To him, you were but a speck, a mere human too insignificant to warrant attention, and he had dismissed you with the ease of one swatting away an irritating fly. Yet, with your firearm spent, desperation had lent you audacity. You had launched yourself onto his colossal frame, a knife clutched in your fist, the last vestige of your defiance. You were acutely aware of the invincibility that his skin professed, an armor no earthly might had pierced with lasting effect. But ambition—or perhaps the raw edge of survival—drove you to attempt the impossible: to excise one of the gleaming Infinity Stones from its gauntlet perch.

And in that breathless moment, as your blade kissed the surface of the gauntlet, Thanos's fingers curled into a fateful snap.

The universe hung in the balance, suspended on the cusp of his action and your audacious defiance. Time itself seemed to stand still, awaiting the outcome of a confrontation that had spiraled far beyond the realms of imagination.

When consciousness reclaimed you, five years had vanished into the ether, and you awoke to a world that had moved on without you. The sight that greeted you was your own veins, pulsating with an uncanny luminescence, casting a ghostly glow over the skin they webbed. Your body, once a familiar vessel, now refused the basic command to rise, leaving you sprawled and powerless on the ground. If only you had heeded Sam's directive, you mused bitterly, you might have remained untouched by this curse, spared the constant, gnawing anxiety that now made a den in your heart. Fear had become your unwelcome shadow, looming over you with endless "what ifs." The thought of unintentionally unleashing harm, of your very essence becoming a cataclysmic force capable of leveling cities, was a nightmare that played on an endless loop in your mind.

Through it all, Sam had been your anchor in the tempest, steadfast even as you spiraled into a mire of self-distrust. For three agonizing months, he had nursed you through the turmoil of accepting this altered existence, an existence marked by an estrangement from your own being. Comfort in your own skin had become a foreign concept, an elusive state that you feared might elude you indefinitely. Nowadays, every flicker of your fingers was accompanied by a torrent of anxiety, a silent battle waged between mind and heart. With each throb of your pulse, a cacophony of fears whispered the possibility of harming the one constant in your life—your brother. This new reality was a labyrinth with no visible exit, a path you tread with trepidation, haunted by the potential havoc you could wreak with a mere gesture, a thought, a slip of control.

You took a deep breath, your fingers nervously adjusting the sleek black leather gloves that now served as a barrier between your touch and the world, a precaution against the inadvertent destruction your mere contact could cause. For a fleeting moment, your gaze drifted to him, taking in the precise way his ebony locks were coifed, a style so meticulously arranged atop his head. The shortness of his hair, a detail so starkly different from before, still felt alien to your eyes. Catching his gaze already fixed on you, a silent exchange that spoke volumes, you redirected your attention back to your brother, mustering a smile tinged with awkwardness. "Of course. Stop worrying," you whispered, attempting to lace your voice with reassurance, even as your heart wrestled with its own tempest of concerns.

"I'm your big brother," he reminded you, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness as if introducing a fact that might have somehow slipped your mind. "That's my job," he added, a declaration of his unwavering role in your life.

Gotta be a real thankless job, you mused silently, the thought echoing wryly within the confines of your mind. "How haven't I fired you yet?" you quipped back, a teasing lilt in your voice as you nudged him gently with your elbow, inviting a moment of light-hearted banter between the gravity of your shared experiences.

His response was an exaggerated gasp, a playful act that drew a slight, amused smile across your face. Without missing a beat, he turned to the conspicuously silent super-soldier beside him. "Ey, Bucky," he called out, seemingly plucking his next words from thin air with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did I tell you about that one time, when Y/n was seven and she peed—"

"Oh my god, Sam, stop!" The words flew from your lips as you reached out to silence him, your hand slapping his shoulder before trying to cover his mouth, a futile attempt to stem the flow of embarrassing tales. Your cheeks flushed with a warmth that radiated from the deep-seated embarrassment of the memory, vivid as if it had happened just yesterday, rather than years ago.

"I apologize for interrupting your camaraderie," Zemo's voice, laced with a hint of formality, cut through the air from the front seat. His eyes found yours in the rearview mirror, carrying a mix of apology and inevitability. "Unfortunately, my driver can proceed no further."

Zemo was the first to emerge from the vehicle, setting the tone for a swift exit. Sam was quick on his heels, nearly leaping from the car at the sight of Bucky preparing to disembark. The super-soldier merely rolled his eyes at the urgency, a silent testament to his annoyance, before he too followed suit, stepping into the open air.

Left alone for a brief moment, you lingered in the cocoon of the car's interior, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The unease knotted in your stomach, a familiar harbinger of doom, seemed to grip tighter with each passing second. Yet, as you prepared to step out into the uncertain world beyond the car's confines, a flicker of hope dared to whisper through your thoughts. Perhaps, just this once, the ominous premonition that twisted your insides would prove false. Maybe, after a stretch of relentless storms, a moment of calm awaited you. With that fragile hope cradled in your chest, you ventured forth, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Navigating the bustling streets of the city, your senses were on high alert, eyes darting left and right in a mix of wariness and awe. Every sound, every blur of movement was cataloged, an overwhelming flood of stimuli as you endeavored to absorb the essence of the place. Ahead of you, the three men moved with a purposeful stride, seemingly indifferent to the sensory overload that ensnared you. Or so it appeared, until a momentary glance to the side caught Bucky mid-observation, his head subtly angled in your direction. The instant he realized he'd been noticed, his gaze snapped forward, a silent admission of his watchfulness.

A small, knowing smile played on your lips as you continued your exploration, your attention now on the eclectic mix of individuals that populated the streets. Their attire was a vivid tapestry of the city's culture and complexity, each person a unique thread woven into the larger fabric. In this context, Zemo's insistence on changing your clothing became crystal clear. Clad in your usual cargo pants and top, you would have stood out starkly, a beacon of foreignness in this richly diverse crowd. It would have been akin to parading around with a neon sign branded "idiot," announcing your outsider status to every discerning eye. His foresight, though begrudgingly acknowledged, spared you that unwitting declaration of naivety.

In the mosaic of your life, Bucky Barnes occupied a space that was both vivid and complex, interwoven with threads of intimacy and shared secrets, away from the prying eyes of your overprotective brother, Sam. Your connection with Bucky had evolved, nurtured by the clandestine moments and deep conversations that unfolded in the quiet corners of New York's bustling cityscape.

It began with chance encounters, two souls adrift in the vastness of the city, finding solace in the understanding gaze of the other. These meetings grew in frequency and depth, transitioning from fleeting to intentional, as you both sought the comfort and understanding that seemed to elude you elsewhere. The shared experience of navigating a world that often felt too constricting, too demanding, became the foundation of your bond.

Your relationship with Bucky was a tapestry of silent understandings and whispered confidences. There were evenings spent in his modest apartment, where the glow of the city lights barely filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a soft luminescence. Here, amidst the shadows, you shared parts of yourselves that had been carefully guarded from the rest of the world. Bucky, with his guarded heart and weary eyes, found in you a kindred spirit, someone who could see beyond the Winter Soldier to the man who was still standing beneath.

These moments of vulnerability were your secret, a world built for two, where words were often unnecessary. You had memorized the layout of his apartment, the contents of each cupboard and drawer, not through any explicit intention but through the natural intimacy that comes from shared spaces and shared silences. It was in the way you could wordlessly hand him a glass of water from his kitchen without having to ask where he kept his glasses, or how the two of you could sit in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts yet together.

Yet, this closeness was kept hidden, a chapter of your life unread by Sam. Not out of deceit but from a desire to protect this fragile connection from external judgments or expectations. With Sam's protective instincts, your relationship with Bucky was a delicate balance, a treasure trove of moments and memories that you both guarded fiercely.

The complexity of your relationship with Bucky was not defined by labels or expectations but by the depth of connection and mutual understanding. It was a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most profound relationships are those that exist in the spaces between words, in the comfort of silence, and in the shared experiences of two souls navigating the world side by side.

The inexplicable flutter in your heart whenever Bucky was near often left you questioning your own sanity, yet there was something undeniably captivating about the way he made you feel. The warmth that crept into your cheeks as you reminisced about a lazy afternoon spent in the park was a testament to this. It was a simple moment, really—Bucky's admission of his aversion to text messaging because he preferred the sound of your voice had somehow managed to send your heart into a delightful somersault. In that instant, you understood the unspoken pact between you two: to keep the depth of your connection hidden from your brother.

This secret camaraderie you shared with Bucky was treasured quietly, a series of moments and feelings kept just between the two of you. Bucky, too, found solace in your presence. The way you looked at him, with eyes filled with genuine affection and understanding, offered him a tranquility he had long thought was beyond his grasp. Your smile was like a beacon to him, urging him to open up about his past, his fears, and his dreams, despite the darkness that shadowed much of his history. Yet, of all the things that drew him closer, it was your laughter that he cherished most.

Your laughter wasn't restrained or demure; it was the kind that bubbled up from deep within, unfiltered and infectious. Those moments when you would laugh so heartily, throwing your head back without a care in the world, were the ones that Bucky held dear. It was in these bursts of genuine joy that he saw the lightness of being, a stark contrast to the battles and burdens he carried. Your laughter, free and unabashed, symbolized a purity of happiness that Bucky admired. It reminded him that amidst the complexities of life, there existed simple, unguarded moments of joy worth cherishing.

In the twilight of Bucky's life, where happiness seemed more a memory than a possibility, the moments he shared with you illuminated his world with an unexpected joy. Time and again, he teetered on the brink of asking you to intertwine your lives officially, to step beyond the unspoken boundaries of your secret affinity and declare it openly. Yet, each time the words perched on the edge of his tongue, ready to leap into the abyss of possibilities, the thought of Sam cast a long shadow over his resolve.

Sam, the steadfast pillar of your family, was a friend to Bucky in every sense except in name, for their camaraderie was too complex and layered for simple labels. Bucky was acutely aware of the fierce love Sam harbored for you, a protective and encompassing love that was both admirable and intimidating. He knew of the cherished photograph Sam carried in his wallet—a tangible reminder of the bond shared between you, your sister, and his beloved nephews, a snapshot of the life Sam fought so valiantly to protect.

And it was the thought of Sam, with his unwavering loyalty and brotherly love, that stayed Bucky's confession. He was painfully aware of the turmoil that would ensue should Sam discover the depth of his feelings for you. Bucky could almost feel the weight of Sam's betrayal and anger, for in his heart, he knew that his affection for you crossed lines that Sam might never forgive. This tension, this fear of fracturing the fragile truce they had built, kept Bucky silent, trapped in a limbo of longing and loyalty, where his desire to claim your heart battled with his respect for the brother who would view such a confession as the ultimate treachery.

As Zemo led the way, weaving through a throng of onlookers whose eyes darted with a mix of curiosity and caution, the air buzzed with hushed whispers that all seemed to echo the same question: "Is that the Winter Soldier?" Yet, if only they could see beyond the infamy and the scars of war, they'd find Bucky. This was the same Bucky who had once called you in a panic, deep into the night, baffled by the modern conundrum of ordering a television online. The same Bucky who shared with you his playlist of favorite songs, tunes you never expected to enjoy, yet found yourself playing on repeat. And this was the Bucky who, in an earnest attempt to teach you to dance, ended up with you standing on his feet, both of you moving in a clumsy but heartwarming harmony across the floor.

Arriving at the bar, you edged closer to Zemo and Bucky, the latter noticing your approach and subtly shifting to grant you more space. "Good evening," greeted the bartender with a nod towards Sam, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger."

The effort to suppress a grin was Herculean as the nickname filled the air. Your brother, Sam, for all his bravery and skill, was many things, but a master thespian he was not. Tonight, he was to embody Conrad Mack, or "Smiling Tiger," a persona draped in notoriety and whispered about in the darkest corners of the criminal underworld. Knowing Sam's theatrical limits, the anticipation of watching him navigate the guise of an African gangster tinged your apprehension with a thread of amusement, painting the night ahead with the promise of unforgettable moments.

"Plans have shifted," Zemo interjected smoothly, answering on behalf of Sam, who tightened his lips in an attempt at solemnity. The sight was almost comical; Sam's expression ventured into the realms of absurdity. "We have business with Selby tonight."

A cloak of skepticism draped over the bartender's demeanor, his eyes—a mix of inquiry and caution—peered from behind the substantial frames of his glasses. His visage, half-obscured by a beard, seemed out of place in this den of shadows and whispered secrets. One could easily mistake him for a tech wizard from the polished corridors of Stark Industries rather than a keeper of this clandestine establishment.

"The usual, then?" the bartender queried. Sam, lips still tightly sealed, offered a single, determined nod, his posture shifting slightly with unease. With practiced ease, the bartender turned to retrieve a jar housing a deceased equatorial spitting cobra, laying it out with a certain reverence on the cutting board before you. He wielded a knife, expertly slicing the serpent open to extract its heart. This he placed in a shot glass, to which he added a dash of Triple sec, a measure of gin, and a squeeze of finger lime, concocting a drink that teetered on the edge of the exotic and the macabre. Sliding the glass towards Sam, the air was momentarily thick with anticipation.

"Ahh," Zemo exhaled, a chuckle threatening to breach his composure. "The Smiling Tiger, your favorite." The room hung in a momentary suspense, the bizarre ritual highlighting the lengths to which one might go to blend into the shadows of this underworld.

As you reluctantly redirected your attention away from the unsavory scene, your eyes found solace in Bucky's gaze. The moment of eye contact with the super-soldier was like a silent pact, conveying volumes in the briefest exchange. “I think the next part’s worth watching.” His suggestion was delivered in a hush, his voice a soft, enticing caress against the delicate skin of your neck, sparking a cascade of warmth that pooled in the pit of your stomach. You darted a quick look around, half-expecting the assembled throng to notice this intimate exchange. Yet, their attention remained steadfastly on the notorious figure of the Winter Soldier, allowing you a sliver of privacy in the crowded space.

Turning back towards your brother, you endeavored to steady your racing heart, to cloak the fluttering butterflies that Bucky's nearness had unfurled within you. But it was akin to trying to calm a storm with whispered words; Bucky's heat enveloped you, a comforting yet unnerving presence. Then, almost imperceptibly, he edged closer, a mere shift that breached the scant distance between you. His chest hovered just shy of touching your back, a whisper of contact that electrified your senses.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up, muscles tensing, heart thundering against your ribcage as if seeking escape. The air seemed to thicken, each breath a labor through the heightened tension that his proximity wrought. The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with a heat that was both foreign and intoxicating. A shiver coursed through you, unbidden, as you fought the urge to lean back into him, to seek solace in the strength of his embrace. His presence, so close and yet so restrained, left you teetering on the edge of something profound, a precipice overlooking a maelstrom of uncharted emotions and desires.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit, cramped space was charged with an uneasy anticipation as Sam steeled himself to down the concoction before him – the alcohol mingling with the snake's heart in a display of grit and resolve. Standing beside him, you could almost taste the bile rising in your own throat at the thought, empathy for Sam's predicament tangling with your own visceral reaction. It was in this moment of vicarious revulsion that you felt it—a touch so light, so fleeting on your arm that it could have been mistaken for a trick of the air, save for the deep, intrinsic knowledge that it was Bucky. His touch, though minimal, carried with it a warmth and a reassurance that seemed to cut through the tension of the moment, grounding you.

This gentle caress, lost to anyone else's perception, was like a beacon to your heightened senses, which seemed to come alive with a fervor that only Bucky's presence could ignite. It was a silent communication, a shared moment amidst the chaos, confirming that his attention was riveted not on the grotesque spectacle unfolding with your brother but on you. And then, without need for visual confirmation, you sensed the subtle shift in his posture, the lean of his body just close enough for you to catch the light inhale as he discreetly breathed in the scent of your hair. The intimacy of the action, hidden in plain sight, had your eyelids fluttering close, teetering on the edge of surrender to the sensation.

But the moment was shattered by the intrusion of a new, deep voice, unfamiliar and brusque, pulling Bucky's gaze away from you for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The voice belonged to a tattooed biker who had sidled up beside Zemo, breaking the spell that had cocooned you and Bucky in your private world. Yet, even as Bucky's eyes momentarily flicked to the newcomer, assessing and then dismissing him as a threat, his hand lingered on your arm, a silent vow of protection and an unwillingness to completely sever the thread of connection between you.

When the biker had disappeared back into the throng of the bar's patrons, Bucky's voice, low and resonant, brushed your cheek, "A Power Broker, really?" His breath was a warm caress, a contrast to the cool air of the bar and the cold reality of their mission.

Zemo's response was a shrug, nonchalant yet laden with the weight of their precarious position within this den of intrigue and danger. "Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." The words were a stark reminder of the peril that shadowed their every step, yet, for a fleeting moment, the only truth that seemed to matter was the connection between you and Bucky, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that thrived even in the heart of danger.

As your brother subtly leaned in, distancing himself from the ears of the surrounding strangers, his voice carried a note of quiet inquiry, "Do you know him?" His gaze was sharp, the weight of leadership and concern pressing upon his features, a look you knew all too well.

Zemo, ever the enigmatic figure, glanced briefly over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the teeming masses of Madripoor's underworld. "Only by reputation," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of wariness. He continued, his tone lowering to match the gravity of his words, "He is judge, jury, and executioner in Madripoor." The way Zemo articulated the roles imbued them with a sense of dread, painting a picture of a figure wielding absolute power over life and death in this lawless land.

As Sam prepared to step back, blending once more into the crowded backdrop of the bar, his gaze inadvertently fell upon Bucky's hand, a subtle yet intimate gesture resting gently on your arm. The silent question was evident in the arch of his brow, a wordless probe into the nature of the connection he had just witnessed. Despite the many shared battles and secrets between you, this particular nuance of your relationship with Bucky remained veiled from Sam's knowledge. He knew of the camaraderie, the shared jokes, and the mutual respect; what he had yet to grasp was the depth that lay beneath those surface interactions.

Caught under the weight of your brother's scrutiny, you felt a compelling urge to divert, to shield the budding complexity of your relationship with Bucky from any further inquiry. With a practiced nonchalance, you reached for the glass that had mysteriously found its way before you—its contents unknown but suddenly invaluable as a means of distraction. The glass felt cool against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through your chest, fueled by Bucky's proximity and the intensity of your brother's gaze.

Without granting Sam the acknowledgment he sought, you lifted the glass, the liquid inside catching the dim light of the bar in a fleeting dance of shadows. With a resolve born of necessity, you downed the contents in one swift motion, the liquid tracing a burning path down your throat, a physical manifestation of the turmoil swirling within. In that moment, the intricacies of your heart's desires, the silent yearnings, and the whispered dreams shared in the quiet with Bucky were drowned in the sharp bite of the drink. There was no love life to dissect, you reasoned, at least not one that could be neatly explained or openly acknowledged under the watchful eyes of your brother. This was a complexity you were not yet ready to unravel, preferring instead the sanctity of ambiguity and the solace found in the unspoken.

From the periphery of your vision, the subtle yet unmistakable shift of the crowd's focus toward your group sent a ripple of tension through the air. Zemo, breaking the mounting silence, uttered something in Russian, his voice a sharp command that instantly put Bucky, who loomed protectively behind you, on high alert. Your grasp of Russian might have been rudimentary at best, but the gravity carried by the word "attack" pierced through any language barrier, sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze darted anxiously between Bucky and Zemo, then to the increasingly hostile encirclement of men.

In a moment driven by instinct more than thought, your hand found Bucky's arm, a silent plea for restraint, an acknowledgment of the heavy burdens he bore and the battles you wished he wouldn't have to fight again. Yet, as the hand of an adversary reached for Zemo, intent on aggression, Bucky's protective instincts overrode any hesitations. The mission's success, the preservation of your collective guise, demanded action.

With a fluidity born of countless battles, Bucky intercepted the stranger's hand, wrenching it into a grim contortion of pain before hoisting him by the collar. The air was punctuated by the thud of the man's body crashing to the ground, a clear signal to the onlookers who, rather than stepping in, recoiled to the safety of the crowd's edges. Their initial shock quickly gave way to the modern reflex of capturing chaos on their smartphones, eager to document the return of the Winter Soldier.

Another assailant lunged forward, driven either by bravado or foolishness, only to meet Bucky's calculated fury. A swift strike to the chest paired with a debilitating kick to the shin sent the man staggering, a prelude to the crushing force of Bucky's elbow against his back. But Bucky was far from done; he delivered a final, forceful kick to the assailant's stomach with such power that the man was propelled backward, colliding with another would-be attacker and sending them both sprawling to the ground.

In those tense moments, Bucky transformed the immediate vicinity into a no-man's land, a clear warning to any who still harbored thoughts of joining the fray. The message was unambiguous: the Winter Soldier, though cloaked in the guise of Bucky Barnes, remained a formidable force, his actions a blend of precision and power that left no room for doubt or defiance.

The melee unfolded with relentless ferocity, each blow landing with a chilling finality. Amidst the chaos, Zemo's unexpected touch on your waist snapped your attention sharply to him, an unwelcome distraction amidst the turmoil. His fingers were cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the skirmish that raged a mere breath away. Holding a shot glass, with another stationed invitingly before him on the bar's counter, Zemo seemed almost nonchalant, as if the violent ballet unfolding around you two was mere background noise.

You could only hope that Sam's gaze was entirely consumed by the spectacle of the fight, lest Zemo's audacity earn him a swift and severe reprimand—the kind that involved a painful reconfiguration of his hand's anatomy. And, should Sam's protective instincts flare up, your carefully maintained cover would be shattered in an instant.

"So," Zemo initiated casually, offering you the glass while securing his own. His demeanor was eerily calm, a man unfazed by the chaos, his curiosity piqued by personal intrigues rather than the potential dangers that lurked in your immediate vicinity. "How long have you and James been seeing each other?"

His question caught you off guard, a blunt intrusion that left you momentarily flustered. "Excuse you?" you retorted, the sharpness in your voice mirroring your surprise.

He downed his shot in one fluid motion, a satisfied exhale following the liquid's descent. "Oh," he dismissed with a nonchalant wave of his hand, a gesture that belied the keen observation behind his words. "Your brother might be wearing blinders, but I certainly do not. It's been quite evident that Barnes has scarcely glanced away from you all evening."

You found yourself grappling for a response, the unexpected scrutiny leaving you unsettled. "Well, uh," you stumbled over your words, grappling for composure. "It's just what he does—staring." Your gaze dropped to the shot glass cradled in your palm, its contents suddenly more appealing than the conversation. With a swift tilt of your hand, you emptied the glass, the liquid courage coursing through you. Instinctively, you braced yourself for whatever probing questions Zemo might pose next, bolstered now by a fleeting rush of boldness from the alcohol.

Zemo's attention subtly shifted behind you, a prelude to his hand sneaking once more to your waist. A wry smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear with a whispered directive, "Get ready." Immobilized by a sudden rush of surprise, you found yourself momentarily unable to react, your mind racing to process the unwelcome proximity.

As you regained your composure, indignation fueling your resolve, your hands began to rise, intent on removing his intrusion. Yet, before you could act, a familiar and comforting warmth enveloped your back. A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as a low, protective growl resonated from behind you, a primal sound that spoke volumes of the tension filling the air.

In the blink of an eye, Zemo's hand was forcibly removed from you, Bucky's intervention swift and silent. The warning in Bucky's eyes was unmistakable, a clear message that brooked no argument. His grip on Zemo's hand tightened, a silent demonstration of his protective instincts. The strain was evident as Zemo's face flushed, a crimson wave ascending his neck in stark contrast to his paling face, a vivid testament to the discomfort and possibly fear induced by Bucky's ironclad hold.

Observing the intensity of the moment, you placed your hand gently atop Bucky's, seeking to diffuse the tension. "It's okay," you whispered soothingly, a plea for peace. "Let him go." Your voice, though soft, carried the weight of your concern, hoping to coax Bucky back from the brink of further conflict.

With a grudging release of pressure, Bucky acquiesced to your request, albeit with a distasteful grunt. He allowed Zemo the mercy of an unbroken hand, a testament to his respect for your wishes. The moment, charged with silent confrontations and unspoken bonds, highlighted the deep connection between you and Bucky, a bond that transcended mere words, resonating with loyalty, protection, and an unyielding sense of unity.

The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy cloud that seemed to weigh down every breath, until the bartender's voice sliced through the silence with the precision of a well-honed blade. "Selby will see you now," he announced, effectively diffusing the charged atmosphere. As you were ushered down the dimly lit corridor by a group of stern-faced men, the arrangement was strategic: Zemo leading, followed by Sam, with you nestled securely in the middle, and Bucky bringing up the rear, his vigilant gaze ensuring no threat would find its way to you unnoticed.

In a fluid motion born of protective instinct, Bucky's fingers found your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you aside into the seclusion of the shadowed alcove. The dim light played across his features, casting deep shadows that sculpted his face with an intensity that was almost breathtaking. His rugged attractiveness, framed in the half-light, struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. "Are you okay?" you found yourself asking, drawn into the complexity of emotions that danced within his eyes. It was clear he was wrestling with his own turmoil, yet his proximity to you, so near that the soft flutter of your eyelashes could have brushed against his cheek, seemed to both unsettle and anchor him.

“Next time he grabs you like that—” He cut himself of, jaw clenching.

As you laid your hand against the solid warmth of his chest in a comforting gesture, a ripple of tension eased from his frame. "It's okay," your whisper broke the intimate silence between you, your gaze lifting to meet his. "I'm okay, promise. He was just trying to get under your skin."

His eyes, a mirror to his soul, roamed over your features with an intensity that felt as though he was memorizing every detail, every curve, and contour, before finally settling back into your gaze. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" His voice, soft yet filled with an emotion that resonated deep within your chest, enveloped you in a warmth that went beyond the physical closeness. In that moment, amidst the shadows and whispers of danger, a connection forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unspoken understanding deepened, transcending the chaos of the world outside.

Your smile, blossoming in response to Bucky's unexpected compliment, was abruptly cut short by Zemo's call for the Winter Soldier, reverberating ominously off the walls. A mutual sigh of resignation passed between you and Bucky. With a bite to your lip, signaling the gravity of the interruption, you took a hesitant step back, murmuring, "We should go."

Bucky's response was a tight nod, the muscles along his jawline tensing visibly as he too made the difficult choice to distance himself. The atmosphere shifted palpably as you entered Selby's domain. She was ensconced regally in an armchair, her fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against its worn fabric, embodying the calm before the storm. "You should know, Baron," she began, her voice cool and measured, "people don’t just come into my bar and make demands."

Zemo, unfazed, countered with equal calmness, "Not a demand, an offer."

Selby's demeanor hinted at a mix of curiosity and caution as she observed the changes in her domain and the players within it. "A lot has changed since you were here last," she remarked, her gaze sliding over Bucky with undisguised interest. "By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?"

Zemo, settling himself before Selby with a nonchalance born of confidence, merely shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "People like us always find a way, don’t we? I'm sure you've already figured out what I am here for."

Selby, her attention never straying from Zemo, extended a languid finger toward your brother, her voice taking on a teasing, almost flirtatious tone. "You're taller than I'd heard, Smiling Tiger," she purred, her grin sharp as a knife's edge, before shifting her focus back to Zemo. "What's the offer?"

"Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum." Zemo's command hung in the air, heavy with implication. He rose, his movements deliberate, as he made his way to where Bucky and you stood in a silent vigil. The audacity of his next offer sliced through the tension like a cold blade. "And I give you him," Zemo gestured towards Bucky with a chilling casualness, "along with the code words that control him, of course." His fingers dared to trace a path along Bucky's jawline, a presumptuous gesture that hinted at possession. "He will do anything you want." You moved your hand to brush against his, blocking the view with your body, not wanting your cover to blow, also not wanting Bucky to blow up because of the over-the-top trade Zemo was talking about, which he hadn’t disclosed with you "Now, that’s the Zemo I remember," Selby's voice curled with a mix of admiration and threat, her lips twisting into a grin that was as dangerous as it was pleased. "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately." She mused aloud, nodding to herself as if affirming her own wisdom. "Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right." Zemo, with a nod acknowledging the compliment veiled as a critique, moved back to his chair, rejoining the precarious dance of conversation.

"The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor," Selby continued, her revelation hanging in the smoky air like a veiled threat. "Doctor Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank, or…" Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, her gaze sharp, "Or condemn, depending on what side you're on."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?" Zemo's question cut through the tension, his inquiry pointed and loaded with unspoken implications.

Selby stood, her movement fluid as a shadow, drifting behind Zemo. She was about to divulge the answer, a secret that could tip the scales, when the moment was shattered by the unexpected vibration of a cell phone. Sam's cell phone, ingeniously hidden within the confines of your bra, the only place deemed secure given the impracticality of the suit's tiny pockets. The room froze, a tableau of anticipation and dread, as all eyes darted towards you. The vibration continued, a silent herald of impending chaos, until, with a steadiness you hardly felt, you retrieved the phone. The caller ID flashed "Mom jr." — a code name for your older sister, Sarah, that now felt like a harbinger of disaster.

"Go on," Selby's voice was a command laced with curiosity and a hint of menace, her henchman already looming ominously behind her. "Answer it. On speaker."

With a nod, terse and devoid of any option but compliance, you swiped the screen, the green circle heralding a connection fraught with risk. Clearing your throat, an attempt to mask the torrent of nerves, you answered with a voice feigning confidence, "Smiling Tiger."

"...Okay." The brief silence that followed was thick with confusion, Sarah's voice betraying her bewilderment. "Why do you have his phone? Is he there?"

"Uh, yeah, yes, he is."

"Could I speak to him? It's urgent."

"Sure." You navigated the tense atmosphere with caution, aware of the danger that lurked in every corner. Approaching Sam, you offered the phone with a discreet, "Sir."

Sam accepted the phone, his throat clearing a precursor to the conversation. "Hello?"

"Hey, uhm, we need to talk about this situation. It's been driving me nuts."

"What situation are you talking about exactly?"

"Are you high? You know the situation. It’s the only situation me and you have."

"What situation, Sarah? Say it."

"The damn boat. And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank."

Sam's scoff was almost audible, a mixture of disbelief and humor. "The bank, yeah. Laundered so much money," he chuckled. "Yeah, they'll come around."

"If that’s the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?"

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed." Your gaze flickered to Bucky, dreading the potential fallout from this precarious bluff.

"Cass! What did I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!" Sarah's exasperated outburst was unexpected, yet somehow, it underscored the normalcy of life's chaos — even when worlds apart, Cheerios could cause turmoil. "Sam, I'm sorry, let me call you back."

"Sam?" Selby's voice, sharp with suspicion, cut through the room. "Who's Sam?" Her eyes scanned the room, landing on one of her men as she gave the lethal order, "Kill them!" No sooner had the command left her lips than a bullet from an unseen sniper found its mark, sailing through the window to claim Selby's life with unerring precision.

As Selby's men, jolted by the sudden turn of events, scrambled to retaliate, the trio leapt into action, their movements a blend of desperation and determination, ready to confront the chaos unleashed by a single, ill-timed phone call.

Sam's movements were swift and precise, his elbow connecting with the gut of the assailant beside him with a force that spoke of urgency and desperation. In a fluid motion, he seized the man's weapon, leveraging his strength to send his adversary crumbling to the floor. Nearby, Bucky confronted another threat, an opponent armed with an automatic firearm. The bullets, however, were no match for Bucky's metallic arm. With an almost serene calmness, he raised his arm, the bullets ricocheting off the vibranium and falling harmlessly to the ground, their lethal intent nullified. With a swift, decisive movement, Bucky disarmed the gunman, the heavy thud of the weapon striking the assailant's head a grim punctuation to the confrontation.

Zemo, meanwhile, exhibited a different kind of strategy. He glided to the side, a ballet of avoidance, demonstrating a preference to remain on the fringes of the physical altercation. His demeanor suggested disinterest, a calculated decision to avoid the fray, yet you knew the truth. Zemo possessed skills honed by experience, a dangerous combatant by any measure, choosing discretion over engagement.

As for yourself, standing on the precipice of engagement, you too could have dismantled any adversary with ease, mirroring Zemo's restraint. Yet, it wasn't the fear of the fight that stilled your hand, nor the dread of physical harm. It was a deeper, more insidious kind of fear that gnawed at your resolve — the fear of responsibility. Sam had seen the toll it took on you, the anxiety that came with wielding your powers. He reassured you, time and again, that it was okay to hold back, understanding the weight that came with such immense power.

You had mastered control over your abilities, a feat that was as much for those around you as it was for your peace of mind. But control was a fragile thing, a constant battle against the possibility of a catastrophic slip. The echoes of the past haunted you, a stark reminder of the chaos unleashed during the battle against Thanos. The risk you had posed to your brother's life was a memory etched in the recesses of your mind, a harrowing reminder of the potential consequences of your powers. The burden of that day weighed heavily on your shoulders, a silent vow to never relive that helplessness, that guilt, again. Control could temper the power, but it could never erase the memories, the fears, or the haunting possibility of what could happen should it ever falter.

The moment unfolded before you with a surreal clarity, as if time itself had bent to accommodate the gravity of what was about to transpire. There stood Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, his figure exuding an aura of solemnity. With a hand stretched towards you, his voice cut through the chaos of your thoughts, delivering the harrowing message that Thanos was on the precipice of ushering in another war.

The ground beneath you felt unsteady, as if it too, shared in your tumult of emotions. Your body was a tempest of sensations, akin to being engulfed in invisible flames, an internal inferno that threatened to consume your very essence. Your hands, held out in front of you, became the focal point of your bewildered gaze. They glowed with an ethereal green luminescence, transforming your eyes into beacons of an otherworldly force. In that moment, you were a stranger even to yourself, your identity obscured by the overwhelming power that surged within you. You feared that even your brother, upon witnessing this transformation, would find himself staring at an unfamiliar figure, your familiar visage masked by an alien force.

It was during this maelstrom of confusion and fear that Stephen Strange recognized the tumultuous energy you were channeling. With a wisdom borne of his experiences with the mystic arts, he extended not just his hand but an offer of guidance and mastery over the forces that now threatened to unravel you.

Amidst this turmoil, a familiar voice pierced the veil of your disorientation. Bucky's voice, imbued with urgency and concern, reached out to you, grounding you back to reality. "We gotta go." His words, simple yet laden with an unspoken promise of safety, beckoned you. As your gaze snapped towards him, you were met with the sight of his outstretched hand, a lifeline in the chaos.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you placed your palm against his, the warmth of his grip a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that had gripped your heart. Led by Bucky, you began to make your way out of the building, each step away from the epicenter of your crisis a step towards reclaiming the self that had been momentarily lost in the eye of the storm.

As Zemo's directive to abandon their firearms behind echoed in your mind, a profound vulnerability washed over you, intensifying the uncertainty that already clouded your heart. The decision to venture into the unknown without the familiar weight of a weapon at your side left you feeling starkly exposed, each step on the pavement echoing your apprehension.

Amidst the chaos, the glow of countless phone screens caught your attention, their omnipresence a stark reminder of the digital eyes that followed your every move. Your grip on Bucky's hand tightened, a help in centering you amidst the swirling uncertainty, your fingers intertwined with his in a silent plea for reassurance. Bucky, feeling the tremor of your grasp, was confronted with an overwhelming pressure in his chest—a sensation so intense, it seemed as though his heart might shatter through his ribcage. The logical part of his mind suggested that releasing your trembling hand might alleviate some of his distress, disconnecting him from the tangible evidence of your fear. Yet, the thought of pulling you even closer overpowered him, a testament to the protective instinct that surged within him, despite the presence of his partner in crime at his side, equally eager to escape the impending peril and shield you from harm.

Out of the corner of your eye, a figure detached from the crowd caught your attention—a woman, standing apart with her hands mimicking the shape of a gun, playfully ‘shooting’ at your group. This macabre pantomime, juxtaposed against the sea of illuminated screens, shed light on the grim realization that you and your companions had been reduced to mere targets in a deadly game, surrounded by a multitude of unseen adversaries, each one thirsting for blood and the lure of a reward.

In the fraction of a second before you could advance another step, the air was pierced by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. An instinctive fear gripped you, catalyzing a reaction that tore you away from Bucky's grasp. You spun around, just as a barrage of bullets threatened to engulf your group in a lethal storm. Driven by a deep-seated impulse to protect, you extended your hands, your eyes instinctively closing as you tapped into a wellspring of power that had lain dormant within you for far too long. The air around you charged with anticipation, as if the very essence of your being had awakened to confront the danger head-on.

Upon daring to open your eyes, fearing the aftermath of your instinctual reaction, you were confronted with a surreal tableau: bullets suspended mid-air, frozen in time and space, an arm's length away, creating an eerie stillness in the midst of chaos. The sheer number of projectiles, hovering ominously close, sent a shiver down your spine, yet it was the sight of your own fingers, aglow with a radiant green luminance, that truly captivated you. It was a strange juxtaposition—how could something so ethereally beautiful harbor the potential for immense destruction?

Your fascination gave way to action as you turned your palm, the bullets beginning to dissolve into nothingness, disintegrating into a fine mist just before reaching your skin. The urgency to locate your assailant led your eyes to a figure, scant meters away, wielding a machine gun braced against a makeshift stand in the bustling market. With a focused gesture, you manipulated the now-liquefied metal, directing it with lethal precision towards the gunman. He recoiled, anticipating pain or perhaps even death, but instead, you targeted his weapon. The metal swarm enveloped the gun, rendering it inoperable, parts of its mechanism dissolving into oblivion.

The surrounding crowd, momentarily taken aback by the display of power, quickly regrouped, their initial shock transforming into twisted smiles as they once again raised their weapons. It was then that your brother intervened, his hand clasping yours with determined strength, pulling you back into the frenetic escape. The concept of a leisurely retreat was a luxury far removed from reality as you both dashed through the dense throngs of Madripoor, a city now teeming with adversaries drawn by the allure of a bounty. The streets, alive with danger, became a labyrinth as you navigated through the relentless pursuit, the weight of potential violence pressing against you from all sides.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam's grumble about his unsuitable footwear for their frenzied escape almost halted you in your tracks, the urge to chastise him for his complaint bubbling up fiercely.

"I'm wearing six-inch heels, you idiot!" you retorted, your voice slicing through the tension as you were half-dragged, half-ran, your form almost seeming to bounce off the pavement with each step.

Just then, the distinct growl of motorbikes escalated behind you, a clear sign that your pursuers were closing in with alarming speed. Instinctively, you twisted around, freeing one arm from your brother's firm grasp. A brilliant emerald glow enveloped your hand as you unleashed a force resembling a sonic boom towards your chasers. Glancing back, you witnessed the bikers caught in a surreal slow-motion, ensnared within the temporal anomaly you'd unwittingly summoned.

The urgency of your flight tapered off as your brother gradually decelerated, releasing your hand to take in the quietude that had enveloped the scene. Zemo, ever the observer, couldn't hide his admiration, stepping closer with a sly grin. "Quite impressive, if I may say so myself."

“You may not.” His commendation was met with a mutter from Bucky, barely audible yet brimming with protectiveness. Bucky positioned himself squarely between you and Zemo, effectively shielding you from the latter's view. Sam, meanwhile, appeared utterly bemused, hands perched on his hips as he oscillated his gaze between you and Bucky, bewildered by the sudden shift in dynamics.

"Okay, what—?" Sam began, only to be cut off as the moment teetered on the brink of unraveling.

"Well, isn’t this just perfect," a voice chimed from the enveloping shadows, laced with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Emerging into the dim light, a blonde woman approached with her gun poised, her stance radiating confidence and danger. Recognition flickered through your mind, delayed by the surreal context. Sharon Carter, the name finally clicked, associated with tales of Steve Rogers and his erstwhile entanglements. Sam's anecdotes, usually shared with a mix of reverence and jest, painted her in the light of a past fraught with complex allegiances, especially during the so-called Civil War—a term you found overly dramatic for what essentially amounted to a highly publicized skirmish among comrades at an airport.

"Sharon?" Bucky's voice cut through your thoughts, tinged with a blend of surprise and uncertainty. The Sharon Carter you'd heard of through scattered stories seemed far removed from the woman who now stood before you, gun in hand, in the underbelly of Madripoor. It was a reflection, perhaps, of how life's unpredictable currents could sweep anyone into unforeseen harbors.

Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto Zemo, the intensity of her scorn palpable. "You cost me everything," she accused, the words heavy with resentment. Sam attempted to interject, offering explanations that seemed to dissipate before they could reach her, lost in the void of her grievance. "I stole Steve's shield, remember?" she reminded, her resolve steel-hard, the weapon unwavering in her grasp. "I also took the wings for your ass," she directed at Sam, causing a ripple of tension to pass through you. The mention of sacrifices made—her actions for their benefit—underscored the gravity of her fall from grace. Her focus shifted momentarily to Bucky, implicating him in the web of consequences, before returning to Zemo with a disdainful flick. Finally, her eyes found you, registering your presence with a flicker of surprise. "No idea who you are," she stated, an admission that underscored the complexity of alliances and identities in this shadowy world.

With a determined stride, Bucky advanced towards Sharon, his every step a testament to his intent to defuse the tension that crackled in the air. He engaged her with words, his tone both pleading and firm, navigating through the storm of her fury. Eventually, her grip on the gun loosened, the weapon tucked away after an exasperated sigh, a silent concession to his efforts. Sharon then proposed an unexpected truce, inviting you all back to her sanctuary. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you; moments before, the cold metal of her gun had promised anything but hospitality.

Crossing the threshold into Sharon's abode, you were immediately struck by an array of art that adorned every wall and surface. The collection was staggering, a visual feast of masterpieces that seemed too authentic, too valuable to be merely decorative. You half-joked to yourself about the possibility of the Mona Lisa being tucked away in a corner, marveling at the fortune that surrounded you, captured in oil and canvas.

The offer of a change of attire came next, with Sharon presenting an array of elegant garments that seemed to glide into the room on a valet rod. The promise of shedding your current attire, particularly the torturous heels that had been your nemesis throughout the evening, was a relief. Barefoot, you approached the selection with eagerness, only to have your enthusiasm dimmed by the realization that the options available were far removed from your comfort zone. Accustomed to the simple reliability of sneakers and boots, the sight of such finery felt daunting, alien.

Facing Sharon, a hint of disappointment lacing your expression, you ventured a request, hoping for something more aligned with your sense of style. "Don't you have anything less... that?" The words hung between you, a polite plea for normalcy amidst the opulence that defined her world.

"Like what?" Sharon's question cut through the tension in the room, her gaze drifting momentarily over Bucky and his shirtless state alongside Zemo. The moment made your skin crawl slightly, an unwelcome distraction in the midst of the unfolding scenario.

"Jeans?" you ventured hopefully, trying to steer the conversation back to a more comfortable topic, despite the circumstances.

"We are going to a club in Madripoor," Sharon pointed out, as if the venue demanded a specific dress code that was far from your preference.

"Yes?" you responded, not fully grasping why your suggested attire wouldn't be suitable, your tone a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

After a brief pause, during which Sharon seemed to consider her response, she chose to bypass your suggestion entirely, moving past you as if you had become part of the room's extravagant background. Your frustration evident, you rolled your eyes at her dismissive attitude and turned back to the daunting task of selecting an outfit from the array provided. Among the lavish options, you managed to find flared leather leggings and a high-neck crop top with a singular sleeve—a rebellious choice that echoed your own style while avoiding the discomfort of another glitter-infested dress. As you began the awkward dance of changing into the leather pants without first removing your current dress, a subtle commotion caught your attention.

Bucky, ever the protector, had taken it upon himself to ensure your privacy. His large hand found Zemo's neck, not harshly but with enough insistence to pivot the man's attention away from you. However, it wasn't just Zemo's attention he was diverting; his own gaze, filled with an intensity you couldn't quite decipher, kept flickering back to you. Each look seemed to linger a moment too long, filled with an emotion he seemed to struggle to define, let alone express. With a visible effort, Bucky tore his gaze away, a stern resolve setting in as he forced himself to focus on anything but you.

Your brother went to lift his whiskey glass off the table when he spotted what was inside of it. A shiver ran down his as he fished out the little snake part and stood to throw it out the window. The expression on his face made you throw your head back laughing. He raised his brow at you in question. You lifted your hands. "I didn’t do it."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because whoever did, is a genius." You were about to pull the top over your head when Sam pinched you in the side. "Ow, what the hell, Sam!" With furrowed brows, and the tight top stuck on your shoulders, you tried to kick him in the shin, though he moved back just in time; a broad grin rested on his face. "Too slow, sista," Sam teased, his playful nudge against your head causing your already precarious balance to falter further. With a grunt of mock indignation, you surged forward, aiming a determined chest-bump at your brother, eager to see him mirror your momentary imbalance. Your efforts were rewarded with a triumphant laugh as Sam was forced to step back, the shared moment of childish glee lighting up your features with a wide grin. This brief interlude of sibling rivalry whisked you back to those carefree days of your youth, where even the simplest acts of brotherly teasing felt like the grandest adventures. Back then, Sam could do no wrong in your eyes, the epitome of an older brother in the most magnificent form.

In the midst of your playful scuffle, you were secretly relieved that Sharon had exited the room. Her presence might have added a layer of self-consciousness to the innocent chaos. Although the antics might seem juvenile to an outsider, to you, they were a rare slice of normalcy—a cherished reminder of a life untouched by cosmic wars or Thanos' dread shadow.

As Sam busied himself with selecting an outfit, your struggle with the unyielding fabric of your top grew increasingly frustrating. The material, devoid of any give, clung stubbornly in all the wrong places. With your back to Bucky, a soft sigh of exasperation escaped you. "Buck?" The quiet call for assistance was barely above a whisper, yet it summoned his attention instantly.

"Need a hand?" His voice was close, filled with a gentle concern that made your heart flutter slightly.

"Yes, please," came your subdued reply, the momentary vulnerability feeling strangely intimate. Then, you felt it—his touch. The slight graze of Bucky's skin against yours as his fingers traced a path up your side, his touch delicate yet assured. He navigated the fabric with a tender precision, his fingers briefly pausing at the edge of your top before guiding it smoothly into place. The fleeting caress that followed lingered just long enough to ignite a shiver of anticipation, a warmth blossoming within you that craved the closeness of his embrace. His breath, a warm whisper against the nape of your neck, sent a thrilling chill down your spine.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, the compliment hanging in the air between you, charged with an unspoken emotion that seemed to draw you even closer, tethering your heart to his with an invisible thread of affection and longing.

"I absolutely agree," Zemo's voice cut through the tension, drawing an involuntary growl of annoyance from Bucky. With a gesture of mock surrender, Zemo backed away, his steps carrying him to the bar where three glasses of whiskey awaited their silent call to be savored. Bucky, feeling the palpable shift in the room's dynamics, reluctantly distanced himself from you, his departure leaving a subtle chill in the wake of his warmth. He reclaimed his seat on the sofa, a move you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment over.

Sharon chose that moment to grace the room with her presence, her arrival marked by the lively bounce of her blonde waves. She exuded a casual confidence, her tone light, yet probing. "So," she hummed, curiosity lacing her words, "How's the new Cap doing?"

Before Sam had the chance to form a response, Bucky's voice, laced with a mixture of disdain and resignation, filled the room. "Don’t get me started." His hands found each other, intertwining in an awkward dance as his gaze inadvertently met yours. Even in the simplicity of his all-black ensemble, accentuated by a blazer that lent an air of sophistication, Bucky looked effortlessly handsome, commanding the space around him with an understated elegance.

Sharon, undeterred by the tense atmosphere, pressed on, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Oh, please. You buy into all that stars and striped bullshit." Her pointed gaze shifted to Zemo. "Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend." With a fluid motion, she sank into the space beside Bucky, a deliberate bite of her lip following her words.

The action did not go unnoticed, drawing a frown from you, a silent testament to the unfolding dynamics. Bucky, catching Sam's eye, shared a moment of mutual understanding, tinged with a hint of disbelief. "Wow," he uttered, the word heavy with implication. "She's kind of awful now." His observation, though softly spoken, resonated with a mix of humor and a poignant undercurrent of nostalgia for times and alliances past.

As you momentarily extracted yourself from the animated discussion unfurling within the living room, your attention was ensnared by the relentless buzzing of your phone, a beacon of unchecked notifications. A myriad of messages from your sister painted your screen, a digital mosaic of concern and updates. "I'll be right back," you announced, your voice threading through the dense air of conversation that was currently monopolized by debates over the Flag Smashers. The name itself, a moniker you found both laughably juvenile and misleadingly innocuous, echoed in your thoughts as you distanced yourself from the discourse, finding solace in the quietude of the hallway.

Leaning against the cool, indifferent wall, you began the arduous task of sifting through the digital deluge, your fingers scrolling with practiced ease. It was then, amidst the solitude of your temporary retreat, that the ambiance subtly shifted, heralding the approach of another. The door opened with a hushed creak, and there he was—Bucky, his presence alone commanding your undivided attention.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice a gentle intrusion, as he navigated the space around you to claim his own against the wall opposite. His casual demeanor belied the concern etched into the furrows of his brow.

"Hey," you echoed, a mirror of his own greeting, yet laden with an unspoken acknowledgment of the weight he carried in his gaze.

"You alright?" His inquiry was simple, yet laden with layers of unvoiced thoughts and concerns. There was a palpable hesitation in his words, a reluctance to tread upon the terrain of your powers—a subject he knew stirred a tempest of emotions within you. “You used your powers.”

"I did," came your affirmation, your response punctuated with a grin that sought to mask the undercurrent of apprehension that had long shadowed your relationship with your own abilities. "I'm alright, though, really." Your attempt to reassure him—and perhaps yourself—was sincere. "It felt weirdly freeing to use them. To see how well I can actually keep control. They are still kind of scary, though."

As the words tumbled from your lips, Bucky bridged the gap between you, each step he took charged with an unspoken intensity. Suddenly, the world seemed to narrow down to the space that separated you, every detail of his approach etched into your memory—the way the light danced in his eyes, the barely perceptible tension in his jaw, the silent communication of his body language that spoke volumes of his concern and his undeniable pull towards you.

The proximity between you dwindled to a mere breath, a distance so trivial yet laden with a myriad of unspoken possibilities. The air around you thickened, charged with a palpable tension that sent your heart racing, your breaths shallow. The notion of closing the distance, of yielding to the gravitational pull that seemed to draw you inexorably towards him, flickered through your mind like a tantalizing promise. It was an effort to maintain your composure, to anchor yourself to the moment without succumbing to the overwhelming urge to bridge the final vestiges of space with a kiss that threatened to unravel both of you.

Pressed against the cool, unyielding surface of the wall, the intensity of the moment had magnified as Bucky's hands found their way to your waist, his grip tightening with a hunger that sent waves of anticipation coursing through your veins. His large, calloused hands, battle-hardened yet gentle, conveyed a sense of urgency as they dug into your flesh, pulling you impossibly closer into his embrace. The strength in his touch was paradoxically comforting, each finger imprinting a promise of protection and desire onto your skin.

The world around you had faded into a distant murmur, his presence engulfing you, drowning out everything else. Bucky's body molded against yours, his chest to your chest, his hips locked with yours in a dance as old as time. The pressure of his hands on your waist was both a claim and a caress, a testament to the depth of his longing. It was as if he was trying to merge two separate existences into one, to erase any space that still lingered between you.

As his lips moved with a tender ferocity against yours, you could feel the raw power of his emotions, restrained yet palpable. The sensation of being wholly desired, of being pulled into someone's orbit with such intensity, was both exhilarating and terrifying. His touch spoke volumes, whispered of need and want that had been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed in the privacy of this shared moment.

The hunger in his grasp was matched only by the passion of your response, your own hands exploring the expanse of his back, tracing the lines of muscle and scars that told the story of his past. Together, you were adrift in a sea of heightened sensations, every caress, every kiss, every breath amplifying the connection that had been quietly growing between you. In that moment, with Bucky's hands anchoring you to him, you weren't just touching; you were speaking a language of longing, of mutual understanding and unspoken promises made in the quietude of hearts beating in unison.

A voice unexpectedly cut through the thick haze of the moment shared between you and Bucky. The abrupt sound of Sam’s voice, laced with surprise and a hint of disbelief, acted like a cold splash of reality.

“Someone care to explain what’s going on here?” he demanded, his tone piercing the bubble that had enveloped you and Bucky. The shock of being discovered, especially by your brother, sent a jolt through you, compelling you to break the kiss.

Oh, no.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #bucky x you #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier

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buckyispunk · 6 months

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Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii.

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere.

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up.

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him?

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came.

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is.

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him.

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day.

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again.

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself.

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked.

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression.

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance.

Flight DL4567 now boarding.

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival.

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival.

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think.

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore.

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky.

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight.

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be.

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take.

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig.

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room.

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand.

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through.

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now.

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you.

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet.

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet.

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people.

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice.

“Course, doll,” another smile.

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five.

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him.

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet.

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours.

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you.

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same.

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week.

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line.

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you.

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something.

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow.

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it.

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes.

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up.

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room.

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?”

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun.

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body.

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again.

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar.

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair.

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.”

You nod and take a sip of your drink.

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth.

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks.

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.”

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.”

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information.

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink.

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you.

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way.

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter.

Via cannonball.

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog.

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool.

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands.

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water.

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard.

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec.

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck.

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw.

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own.

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person.

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching.

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested.

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him.

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender.

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other.

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding.

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face.

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him.

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed.

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance.

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway.

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him.

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!”

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself.

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky.

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi.

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating.

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage.

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu.

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you.

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze.

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?”

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices.

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you.

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite.

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?”

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it.

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong.

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks.

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking.

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him.

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms.

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal.

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it.

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast.

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?”

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head.

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge.

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole.

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether.

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied.

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again.

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob.

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach.

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again.

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream.

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are.

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her.

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile.

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops.

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

#bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #the lonely souls club #falcon and the winter soldier #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #winter soldier #series

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Warnings: mentions of amputation, light angst, hints to violence, mentions of death, bucky being a grumpy man

Part 2

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!AU Bodyguard!AU

“Mr. Barnes, your résumé so far is quite impressive.” Pierce acknowledged with a slow nod.

Bucky of course had a trained eye, but the glares that were not so subtly sent his way by the big boss— were intimidating. He wasn’t scared, no. He simply respected this man’s power. Bucky knew better than to get on the bad side of someone like Pierce.

“Says here you’re an amputee?” Pierce asked so bluntly, and he noticed Bucky’s eyes squint slightly. “Sorry, if I’m overstepping but nothing will be overlooked.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” Bucky assured him. “Yes, I lost my left arm during a mission way back.”

Pierce furrowed his brows.

“Mission? I take it you used to be an agent of some sort.” He assumed.

Bucky nodded.

“Hm, very good. Continue.” He waved him on.

“I had some surgical procedures— and now I have a prosthetic.”

Bucky lifted his left arm, rolling his sleeve slightly up to expose the metal to the boss. Pierce hummed impressively, taking in the intricate designs on the metal.

“I can assure you that me having a prosthetic will not be an issue— my arm is made out of only the strongest metal. Bullet proof, in fact.” He added, hoping it would further impress the boss, proving just how perfect for the job he was.

It wasn’t his dream to be a bodyguard, actually it was quite a low in his career— if you asked him. He had fallen out of his previous steady job, due to some complications. He had the experience of being a bodyguard— just not for only one person. It would be a weird change for him, but he was willing to take on the challenge. Also, the pay was nice.

Pierce hummed again, the information that his prosthetic arm was bullet proof— only satisfying him more.

“Like I said, impressive Mr. Barnes. But this is an extremely important task. My only daughter, who must be protected at all costs.” Pierce trailed off, expression growing serious. “It’s been a hard adjustment since the passing of my wife, my daughter is all I have left.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, knowing what it was like to lose loved ones. In fact, that wound was still fresh on him.

“If I allow you to take on this role, you are to swear to yourself that you will do whatever it takes to keep her alive— no matter what.” Pierce spoke loudly, his voice orotund.

Bucky in the back of his mind thought about his choice of words. ‘If I allow you.’ Bucky respected this man, but he had to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape his lips at his statement.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?” Pierce challenged, and suddenly it wasn’t about his daughter at all. It was a man challenging another man, a task that he deemed impossible.

His metal hand behind his back whirred in annoyance. After all that fluffing his head up, complimenting his training. It was clear Pierce thought so little of him, and at that— it made Bucky wanna take the job even more. Just to prove him wrong.

“Yes sir.” Bucky promised, shaking Pierces hand in a firm— slightly aggressive shake.

Pierce smiled, dropping Bucky’s résumé on his desk. Getting himself comfortable, he sat on the edge of the front of the desk, crossing his arms.

“Now, let’s go through what is to be expected.” He started, Bucky nodded for him to continue. “You are to be with her at all times, except for when you sleep. You do sleep right?”

Bucky let the scoff escape this time, but it wasn’t as aggressive as he wanted it to be.

“I’ve got a metal arm, but I’m still human sir.”

Pierce chuckled to himself, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. This man thinks he’s so funny.

“Right. You must never let her leave your sight, if she wants to see her friends— you’ll be seeing them with her. Not that it’s going to be an issue, I don’t think she has many friends… or any.” The boss shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about his daughter.

Bucky nodded, taking everything in.

“You are going to be staying with her in the safe house… well— she thinks it’s just a house but the area is guarded with my men.” He shrugged again. “I’m a successful man and with that comes enemies, people who look for my weaknesses. You know that.”

Bucky gave a tight lipped smile, Pierce so far sounding like a father of the year.

“Now, about my daughter. Her name is (Y/n) (Y/L/n), and she is a handful.” Pierce stated frustratedly. “She’s rude, ungrateful, nasty— and just overall extremely difficult.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, rethinking his decision to be a bodyguard for this girl. Fucking lovely.

“You can now understand why I’m paying you the offered amount. It’s only fair to you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully, I can’t deal with her anymore. I love her, and she’s my daughter but… It just doesn’t work out with me. I’m a busy man— I don’t have time for brats.” Pierce spat, straightening up and heading back around his desk.

Bucky had already been creating this mental image of you, so far you sounded like a witch. He was not at all ready to be dealing with you 24/7.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem boss, I’m happy to be protecting your daughter. Nobody will lay a hair on her head, I swear on my life.” Bucky promised again, bowing his head slightly.

“Oh I know. If anything happens to her and I find out you were slacking even by an inch… well you’re a smart man, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Pierce warned, and Bucky swallowed at the mere intimidation that laced his voice.

But he would not back down to this challenge, which is how he saw this— not a job.

“That will be all Mr. Barnes, (Y/n) is around here somewhere. Find her and take her home.” He told Bucky, putting on his glasses— focusing on his paperwork.

“Yes sir.”

Bucky nodded and turned to exit the room. He was so confused with the interaction. You’d think someone who hires a bodyguard for their daughter would know where their daughter is. The way he spoke about you was off putting. Bucky didn’t even know you, but it felt wrong to hear someone talk so little about you. What did he know anyway— apparently you were a monster.

He made his way through the building with a swift walk, needing to fulfill his duties and find you quickly. He was on the third floor, about to hit the button to the elevator when he saw a young lady. Despite him wanting to find you all on his own, he got her attention.

“Excuse me,” He waved to her with a fake smile, “Do you know where I can find (Y/n) (Y/L/n)?”

The lady smiled and took Bucky by surprise by laughing. His fake smile vanished immediately, his eyes squinting in a annoyed expression.

“That would be me!” You exclaimed with a warm smile.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he thought for a second he was being fucked with, but after you stayed smiling at him, being as patient as ever— he knew you weren’t joking.

“Uh right… Your dad is Pierce?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his guard up. Still thinking someone was messing with him— testing him.

You nodded slowly, giving him a curious expression. Your smile never wavering.

“Yes, and you are?” You asked so politely.

Bucky shouldn’t of been as shocked as he was but truthfully, he was expecting a demon spawn of a person. Red eyes, withered flowers left in your path, a literal storm cloud floating over you— but you looked so normal. So sweet and pretty. Your hair smelled so strongly of strawberry shampoo, he could catch the scent from his spot. Your voice was like honey, the sound soothing.

He was confused as to why your father thought so wrongly of you. He had too many questions.

He cleared his throat, straightening himself now that he believed you were who he was looking for.

“(Y/n), my name is Mr. Barnes— I’ve been hired as your personal bodyguard.” He informed you, watching the corners of your mouth falter slightly.

“Oh, did my Father hire you?” You asked politely.

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a smile on your face. But you couldn’t help the distaste for being given a bodyguard. You knew it was only for the sole purpose, that your Father didn’t want to care for you anymore. He wanted nothing to do with you. That fact was enough to make your nose start to burn, but you held yourself together— not wanting to break down in front of this new guy.

Bucky watched you take in the information, the way you took a deep breath, almost controlling yourself before you spoke again.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.” You told him.

Bucky shook his head, an annoyed expression etching his face.

“Ma’am, I think we should keep things professional. I have been hired as your bodyguard. Let me do my job, and you can continue with your day as usual. You won’t even know I’m here half the time.” He explained rather harshly.

You seemed taken aback, his words hurting you more than they should’ve. You were lonely, and you thought you’d be able to get a friend out of this situation. Even if he was being hired to hang around you. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as he told you off. The burning felt stronger in your nose, and you took another deep breath.

Bucky only felt bad for a second, but he was quickly snapping back to reality. It was his life on the line to protect you, and if Bucky was anything— it was that he was good at doing his job. This was business, not playtime.

“I’m here to take you home. Are you ready?” He asked you.

You relaxed your quick beating heart, not even having time to speak with your Father. Not that he’d want to anyway. So much had changed since your Mother passed, you had yet to heal those wounds.

You nodded with a weaker smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. If Bucky had noticed your sudden mood change, he didn’t mention it— instead guiding you outside.

He opened the door to the car that was waiting outside for you, climbing in himself after you were settled.

He started driving to your place, with the help of the car telling him directions.

Meanwhile you gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by. You forced yourself to keep a small smile on your face, hoping you’d convince yourself that the gesture was genuine if you did it long enough.

Bucky glanced back at you through the rear view mirror from time to time, watching you look out the window. He was still trying to come to terms with how polite you were, how completely opposite you were to your Fathers description.

On one hand it was a relief that he didn’t have to deal with the devil. On the other hand… he was anxious to see where this job would lead him.

A/N: I don’t know what is wrong with me, but suddenly I had this urge to write a bodyguard!bucky fic. let’s be honest, we are all slut’s for bodyguard!bucky 😭 I’m also a whore for the trope grumpy x sunshine 🥰🥴 let me know what you think— this is all word vomit.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #light angst #oneshot #bodyguard bucky barnes #bodyguard au #mob au #grumpy x sunshine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #mini series

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deliciousangelfestival · 9 days

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Guilt

Character: Mob!Bucky x Police!Female Reader

Summary: "Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Bucky, a gangster, fell in love at first sight with a policewoman.

At the golf course, two outstanding men in the mob world are playing golf together to have a quiet time, to forget the worst day at the club they owned.

Steve, the second person in charge, still feels frustrated, while Bucky, the leader, is the only one enjoying the game.

"Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Steve, his childhood friend, asked as he watched Bucky hit the golf ball.

Bucky clenched his fist in frustration as he made the shot. Turning to Steve, he replied, "I can't help it. She just took my breath away the first time I saw her."

Steve sighed, recalling the first encounter between Bucky and the policewoman when their club was unexpectedly visited by the narcotics police force.

Steve sighed, "She's known as a scary person, even among her colleagues," he said, relaying what he had learned from his connections.

"And from what happened last night, I feel like she holds a big grudge against people like us," Steve continued, reflecting on the recent events. Most of the cops he knew turned a blind eye to their business dealings, never getting involved with drugs.

Bucky remembered how composed you had been last night, effortlessly throwing punches and giving orders to make arrests. He even recalled the moment you pushed him to the ground and handcuffed him.

At that instant, he knew you were different from other women.

Bucky took another swing at the golf ball, causing it to fly too far. With a smile, he declared, "I will make her mine."

Steve sighed deeply, realizing that once Bucky had made up his mind, no one could stop him.

As Bucky began his courtship, he tried various approaches to get closer to you:

1. He sent you flowers with cryptic notes, hinting at his admiration and interest.

2. Bucky strategically positioned himself at events where you were present, making sure to catch your eye without being too obvious.

3. He orchestrated chance encounters, bumping into you at coffee shops or restaurants, always ready with a charming smile and a casual conversation starter.

4. He even went as far as anonymously sending you a gifts or helpful tips related to your work, trying to show his support and understanding of your profession.

But you didn't give any reaction; you consistently ignored him.

Bucky didn't mind your game of "playing hard to get." He was confident that in the end, you couldn't resist him.

However, his confidence wavered when you finally spoke to him, your words cutting through the air like icy daggers. "In 2022, Bobby Smith died because of a gunshot. He was my fiancé."

Bucky's face drained of color, his body going rigid with shock. The revelation hit him like a sledgehammer, the weight of guilt crashing down upon him. His mind raced as he realized the implication: Bobby Smith's death was because of him.

After the revelation, would Bucky give up his pursuit, or would he persist despite the overwhelming guilt?

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koiponderingart · 9 months

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The best of Winter Soldier: Of the many Winter Soldier/Bucky Barns paints I have done, these are my favorite.

Please feel free to find me on Ig: koipondering

#watercolor #winter soldier series #winter soldier #bucky barnes

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 29 days

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The Lonely Souls Club Masterlist

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found. [Bucky Barnes]

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

#bucky barnes #stalker #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier

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buckrecs · 1 year

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𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙈𝙖𝙮

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Buchanan by @barnesmurdock

baby, it’s bad out there by @intrepidacious

set me free by @/intrepidacious (40s!bucky x nymph!reader)

When I’m With You by @phantomspiderr

You’re Worth It All by @/phantomspiderr

Scotty Doesn’t Know by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

cherry blossoms must be magic by @witchywithwhiskey

aisle 4 by @buckyhoney

Grump : The Musical by @itsapeterthing

Trough Sickness… Except Bucky’s by @teamcap4bucky

Wrong Number by @/teamcap4bucky

Alcohol You Later by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Possible-Future-Girlfriend by @jurassicbarnes

Vegas, Baby! by @bxcketbarnes

Love in the Workplace by @bxcketbarnes

Too Hot, An Arm Cold by @t-lostinworlds

almond milk by @buckysblanket

After Words by @justsomebucky (Modern AU)

Once Upon A Dream by @abovethesmokestacks

cut my hair by @buckybarnesdiaries

Mind Reader by @espinosaurusrexex

Chain Around my Neck by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Sweet and Strong by @navybrat817 (tattoo artist!bucky x baker!reader)

Charmed by @rookthorne (mechanic!bucky)

Rule Number One by @sidepartskinnyjeans

A Solid Foundation by @writing-for-marvel (fiancé!bucky)

It’s Not My Cup Of Tea by @malum-forev

The Weather by @saltsicklover

Silent Nights and Sorry Mornings by @veelacurse

In The Name Of Love by @moonbeambucky

Fallin’ For You by @/moonbeambucky

I’m Gunnin’ For You by @rookthorne (drifter!bucky)

Morning Workout by @sparklefics

ANGST

Call Me When You Get This by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

I’ll Wear Your Ring by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

After by @wkemeup

Spiral by @buckyalpine

Until We Meet Again by @bucksangel

Try Anything Once by @/malum-forev (doctor!reader)

A Place by @/malum-forev

SMUT

Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams by @buckets-and-trees

Ring Ring by @adrinktostopyourthirst (roommate!bucky)

Convince Me by @teamcap4buciy

Roadside Assistance by @urvenicebtch (mechanic!bucky)

That’s The Way Love Goes by @dirtytomatoedwrites

Surrender by @barnesmurdock

i was made for lovin’ you by @buckycuddlebuddy (rockstar!bucky x bassist!reader)

On My Tongue by @angrythingstarlight (chubby!bucky)

Sweeter Than Sugar by @/angrythingstarlight (chubby!bucky)

Destined to be Yours by @buckyalpine

sinner by @writingsbychlo (demon!bucky x angel!reader)

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 14 days

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✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ✦.˳·˖✶.⋆. ✧̣̇⋆

「 ✦ bucky barnes 2 ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

★ part one bucky recs

★ @kinanabinks

☼ jealousy and flirtation

☁︎There's nothing you want more than Bucky Barnes - but you and his best friend, Juniper, seem to have that in common.

☼ sesame and the sweetheart

☁︎ You've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer.

★ @bucksangel

☼ beneath the milky twilight

☁︎ Being Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant has been tough, balancing a full time job while taking care of your younger brothers has you running yourself thin. Then, things take a sharp turn after a dinner with your boss when you disclose your financial situation.

☼ give me a minute

☼ the spark

☁︎James Barnes, the bane of your existence, the man you swore to stay away from. Though his naturally good looks and charming smile may fool many of the women around you, you refuse to fall into his trap. It gets harder to do with every interaction you have with him, and when Bucky gets taken by Hydra, you're forced to face your feelings or risk losing him forever.

☼ until we meet again

☁︎ The Blip changed everything and everyone. With Bucky now gone, and a toddler to raise, you find yourself leaning on Steve for support, as he does with you. What happens when, five years later, Bucky returns to find his best friend and best girl raising a kid? His kid.

★ @adrinktostopyourthirst

☼ sniper

☁︎ Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

☼ pride and privacy

☁︎Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

★ @lives-in-midgard

☼ don’t tell bucky

☁︎ After a night out with Natasha and Wanda reader gets drunk and tells someone about her secret crush on Bucky.

★ @thestarkinternship

☼ mine

☁︎When you went out for drinks with the team one Friday, you had no idea that this was how the night would end: with your back pressed flush against your bedroom door, a shaking thigh hitched over your boyfriend's shoulder and his pretty mouth daring you to completely let go for everyone to hear.

★ @winterarmyy

☼ welcome home…soldat? pt2 pt3 pt4

☁︎ Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

★ @amathslutsguidetofandom

☼ guess i’m just good with them

☼ big, strong man

★ @scoonsalicious

☼ unwanted

☁︎ When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

★ @lanadelreyscokewhor3

☼ sleepwalking

☁︎when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

★ @wkemeup

☼ masterlist

☁︎ all their works <3

★ @seventven

☼ masterlist

☁︎ all bucky works

★ @allyouneedisbuck

☼ i’m begging for you (take my hand)

☁︎ bucky doesn’t do love, you love bucky. being friends with benefits makes sense, right?

★ @jurassicbarnes

☼ please thy neighbor

☼ what a night

☁︎ Bucky Barnes is out in the new world, navigating through everyday life and its trials and tribulations. His therapist insists he tries new things. He has collected a few new hobbies. But when it comes to making new acquaintances, what’s a better way to meet new people than a little dating site called Tinder.

★ @watchmegetobsessed

☼ paper thin walls

★ @onceuponastory

☼ upstairs

☁︎Bucky Barnes is constantly annoyed by his cat Alpine going to visit his upstairs neighbour for treats. That is however, until Bucky meets his new upstairs neighbour Y/N. Who Bucky definitely isn’t in love with. Not at all.

Turns out that a 106 year old man might know more about love than he first thought. And that cats can make excellent wingmen.

★ @dreamwritesimagines

☼ burn the witch

☁︎ There’s a thin line between mission and love, and spies aren’t allowed to cross that line.

★ @bccky

☼ unrequited

☁︎ you realise that you are in love with your best friend, only for him to confess that he loves someone else.

★ @buckysboobs

☼ raw

☁︎ she just wants bucky to fucking destroy her insides and rearrange her guts, but bucky's scared so he rejects her before another one of their love making sessions. she gets mad so making him jealous is the only way left to get him to fulfill her fantasies.

★ @bucksfucks

☼ after hours

☁︎ it’s hard to focus on your PhD when your supervisor is none other than Professor Barnes.

★ @bucky-bucket-barnes

☼ the two of us

☁︎ You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

★ @honeybunchesofbucky

☼ crawling back to you

☁︎ After your breakup with Steve Rogers left you heartbroken and lonely, a night in with a bottle of wine gets interrupted by a familiar face; Bucky Barnes, who’s on a mission to show you what you’ve been missing out on.

★ @samingtonwilson

☼ little boy blue pt2 pt3 pt4

★ @inkedbybarnes

☼ his baby

☁︎ bucky won't call you by your name.

★ @lanabuckybarnes

☼ damn bear

☁︎ Sgt Barnes wins you a bear at a carnival. What he doesn’t expect nor like is when you give it more attention, Bucky shows you that he’s better than the bear.

★ @imyourbratzdoll

☼ angst request

☁︎ bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

★ @buckys-wintersoldier

☼ home is where you are

☁︎ when you hear someone talking about Bucky you offer them your help to find him.

★ @duuhrayliegh

☼ fondue

☁︎ bucky and steve’s daughter have been dating secretly for over half a year, this is how steve finds out.

★ @veltana

☼ unleashed

☁︎ During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

★ @thevillainswhore

☼ a forbidden invitation

☁︎You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal �� a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

•MASTERLIST

•MARVEL MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes fic rec

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