Warnings: Modern AU; Age Gap; Mourning; Grief Stages; Hurt and Comfort; Angst; Brief Description Of Domestic Abuse; Implied Past Child Abuse; Smut; Guilt; Canon Typical Anger Issues; Fasten your seatbelts, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. All mistakes are mine.
Synopsis: Losing a loved one is hard enough, losing a child is torture. Peeta Mellark struggles to move on from the loss of his son, so he clings to the last piece of him left alive, his son’s girlfriend. Based on Prompt 106: Katniss is Rye’s girlfriend when he dies. Katniss and Peeta (Rye’s father) start to hang out to go through their grief together. [submitted by Anonymous]
Acknowledgements: Thank you Anon for this prompt, I wish I knew who you were to dedicate it to you, but I guess this way the story simple belongs to the universe :) Also thank you @kleeklutch for reading this through and helping me get my ideas straight… I truly loved your insights! lastly, thank you Everlark Fic Exchange from bring us all together!
Other Notes: Excerpt of the lyrics to “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” by Randy Newman (Toy Story, 1995)
Excerpts and rewordings for the poem “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe; featuring the poem “Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe
This fic got away from me. I had outlined it to be around 8-10K words, but this monstrosity grew up to be close to 32K… this is the second part, and when I post the story to AO3 there will be an epilogue.
I’d love to see your take on the fluff prompt 27 if it interests you. :)
27. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleep on the couch."
40 fluff prompts
Previous drabbles in the series:
Why Are You Upside Down
You Got Me Flowers
There’s Animal In Your Sweater, Isn’t There
An In-Panem, Alternate Universe series
Summer before 11th Grade
"Your family is going to wonder where you are when you don’t show up tonight,” Peeta says, unlocking the door above the bakery and ushering Katniss inside. He shuts it behind them, and with a barrier between them and the outside world the shouting and occasional gunfire in the Square mutes some. Peeta is aware of his own frantic heartbeat, the blood rushing through his ears. He sags against the kitchen counter, the strength seeping from his limbs. They made it. They’re safe. Better yet, they're alone, he realizes. He's not sure he could deal with his family now.
His mother and father and Rye are at the Cartwright’s, finalizing toasting plans with his brother’s future in-laws. Curfew is soon, and they'll be stranded until sunrise.
While his father and brothers like Katniss, Mrs. Mellark still hasn't given in. He’s too tired to play moderator.
“I didn’t tell anyone we were watching from the square,” Katniss admits, following Peeta through the quiet apartment to the front room. She moves to the window facing the square, pushing the curtain back.
Peeta stands behind her and leans over her shoulder, peering out into the street below. The Peacekeepers seem to have the crowd subdued once again. Dozens of people, including a few of his Town neighbors, are led away, guns drawn as motivation to walk. A dull ache settles in his chest.
“Kind of feels like a waste,” Katniss says, pushing the curtain to cover the window and stepping back. Her expression is pinched. “Fighting the Capitol will change anything.”
“I’m not sure if I agree with that,” Peeta says as Katniss sits on the couch. She unlaces her boots and he watches her routine that’s become so familiar to him. Funny how he never thought that would happen. “I think they’re brave,” he adds.
She tugs one boot off. “I think it’s idiotic.”
The situation isn’t funny, but he laughs anyway. “Of course you do. Starting something you can’t finish isn’t logical."
Katniss tugs the other boot off her foot and frowns at him as she stretches out on the couch. “We can’t all be Mr. Do-Good, like you.”
“Probably not,” Peeta says. “What would become of us? Standing up for what we believe in.”
“It would get us killed,” she murmurs, eyes falling closed.
Peeta ignores that comment. “What are you doing?”
She looks up at him. “I’m so tired. Do you have a blanket I can use to sleep out here?”
Katniss gives a very un-Katniss-like squeak when Peeta bends over and scoops her off the couch. She forgets how strong he is sometimes. Her heart flutters inside her chest, and when he smiles crookedly at her that warmth she feels around him lately spreads through her belly. Their gazes lock, and she’s oddly breathless.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep on the couch,” Peeta says after clearing his throat
Katniss doesn’t know what to say as he quickly sets her on the floor again. His cheeks are red. She’s looking everywhere in the room but at him.
“If that’s cool with you-” he begins.
“Yeah,” she says quickly. Embarrassed for some reason, Katniss follows Peeta to his room. They remain quiet as they lay side by side on his bed, but now that they’re here, she can’t fall asleep. Her mind whirs, and she doesn’t want to close her eyes because every time she does, scenes from the square flash across her mind.
Shouting erupts from outside once again, followed by short bursts of gunfire. Peeta has his arms around her, pulling her close before the first sob has fully crossed her lips.
The tin bucket rings with the tap tap tap of the evenly spaced droplets.
The deluge of rain hit hard last night and it has me humming happily, excitement in my chest.
I’ve always loved thunder. The way it rolls deep within my chest and echoes in the deep old bones of the mountains around us. I would squeal with each clap and reach up to catch it in our Seam home as my daddy smiled from his chipped armchair. We’d play a game of hopping from spot to spot on the floor at each rumble and though his eyes hung in deep dark circles from his shifts in the mines, my father never tired. Then, Prim was born and she was terrified of thunderstorms for a time.
It’s just one leak in our shiny and spiffy Capitol made home that’s been standing for almost a century now though. Thom and his builders have much more important things on their minds than a tiny leak in our roof.
Some people still don’t even have roofs. The make-shift canvas of the sturdy tents lining the district hardly constitute roofs.
When the war began, the Capitol wasn’t quite as invested in the architecture in their dear sweet Victors’ homes. They couldn’t keep up their perfect veneer in District 12 when they obliterated it into the ground. The poor things.
And besides, a little water didn’t hurt that much. In my father’s home, we had at least ten designated containers to catch the drip of rainfall.
When I step outside into the morning, the sun is bright and clear in the sky. No trace of the ominous grey and green puffs above remains. The grass is wet and smells of rain. A small trickle of a stream has formed on the gravelly road, opposite our home. At least the geese have been subdued into some semblance of peace because of the storm.
Peeta had left this morning before the sun even stretched out into the sky. Usually I would already be out in the woods too, or by his side watching him knead dough or wipe sweat off his brow.
But, I couldn’t settle last night. Even in Peeta’s arms I was restless. And when my eyes finally drooped shut, a nightmare had found me. The giant crash of thunder that split the sky in two in the middle of the night woke me up. In my dreams all I heard were bombs and gunfire. It had reminded me of-
Peeta let me rest in this morning when he heard my grumpy grunt as I shoved my face under the pillows to hide from the sunlight. Not that he let me do anything. But he had gently tucked me back in and left a muffin on my nightstand for when I was ready.
Part of me wanted to pull him back in by the shirt of his buttoned collar and waste away the day. But even my arms wouldn’t listen to my demands. The bed was so nice and I fell deep into the mattress covered in one of the sheets as Peeta left the fan to run for me. The cinnamon and dill buried deep within the fabric of his side made me feel like I was rocking on a boat, in a lake with gentle rolling waves in my head.
Besides, we haven't even kissed since he returned to me almost four months ago. At first the chaos of finishing the important parts of the bakery and going through the final touches to get it up and running had us distracted. Now I’m not so sure he wants to kiss me.
I kick the loose rocks littering my path to the bakery. They skip and hop and fling themselves in the air. One hits another rock and angles itself to launch at someone passing me clear across the street but their back is turned and they don’t even feel it ping off the heel of their boot. I mumble an apology to myself though, and feel the heat of shame caving in on me from every inch of air around me.
Before I know it, I’m in front of the bakery. It was one of the first buildings up in Twelve. Everytime I see it my heart swells with pride for Peeta. Even though it’s just the bare bones now, I can see its future clear across every brick. The sign hangs proudly over the front. The ‘s’ in Mellark’s is slightly crooked and splotchy because of my shaky hands, but when Peeta began painting it with such excited and reverent hands, he insisted I contribute to at least one part of it.
Normally, I never enter through the front door of the bakery. The back door has always been home to me in a way. The first time I ever came to the back doorstep, I was sitting tall on my father’s shoulders and happily babbling along to a tune he was singing. He and Mr. Mellark quickly exchanged two squirrels with a respectful nod and I mimicked them which put the trace of a laugh onto the baker’s weathered face.
Now, I want to surprise Peeta as one of his customers. The bell of the door jingles as I walk through the door. No one mans the front counter so he must be in the back.
“I’ll be with you shortly.”
His voice carries through the opening to the room with the ovens and prep tables and my shoulders relax at his calm but steady voice. The way the bakery was built and rebuilt, it’s easy for him to call out to customers without having to yell. My lip twitches up into a soft smile and I pull out one of the chairs dotting the tables around the room.
His clomping footsteps and another ring of the bell clash together in my mind. I look up to see the new customer, expecting someone from Thom’s crew but I instantly tense up at the sight.
Her hair is coiled perfectly into ringlets around her face and a big fur coat rests on her shoulders. Her chest is unnaturally large and her bottom even more so. But she’s perfect, right down to her nails. Not a blemish in sight and her blonde hair shines with health and lustre.
She’s big and pretty.
“Artementia!”
Peeta’s shout pulls me from my scrutiny of the clearly Capitol woman. His steps are quick as he approaches her and wipes the flour off of his hands onto his apron.
My head jerks back when he reaches for her across the counter and they embrace. His smile is brilliant and he doesn’t even notice me lurking in the corner.
“Oh my dear.” They pull back from their hug and that woman kisses both of his cheeks, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. “It’s been far too long.”
“It really has Artie.” He squeezes her hand. “How have things been for you?”
“Well why don’t we go and have lunch together? I’m sure you’ll be having your break soon anyway.”
“It’s just me today, I’m not sure I can just close up shop for my lunch break.”
“They can survive without you for an hour I’m sure. Just flip your little sign over and we can go to the opening of that restaurant down the street.”
Peeta’s head turns to the back, searching a long moment for something. When he turns around, it seems he’s already made up his mind. He lets out a sigh before plastering his smile back on for the woman.
“Well alright,” His hands work swiftly to unknot the apron around his waist and place it on the counter. “Sure wouldn’t want anyone else to give you the grand tour of our pristine district.”
She places a hand over her chest and lets out a soft laugh and Peeta’s chest rumbles with a short chuckle.
They walk over to the door, not even glancing my way as Peeta flips the sign on the door over to ‘closed’ and locks the door. Before the door smacks shut behind them, I shove it open and storm past them in the opposite direction. To the woods.
The rock in my hand scatters to the ground.
It was pretty and I thought Peeta would’ve enjoyed its smooth surface and swirling brown rings.
But maybe now it’s not enough to preoccupy his mind with the pretty blood and flesh woman beside him.
His head whips back to the loud sound of the slamming door and ping of the rock and I quickly turn my face away from his line of vision.
“Katniss?” His hopeful voice calls out. But I’m already pushing to round the corner of the rebuilt merchant businesses. “Katniss!”
He can have fun with his gorgeous Capitol woman on his arm. I don’t care.
I save the grumbling for later though, my mind focuses on the ground below me as my legs carry me in a spring towards the fence. I duck under my spot in the chain-link and snatch up my bow and arrows.
After the fifth poor squirrel participates in my very important exercise of letting my feeling’s flow for the day, I climb up a strong and tall tree. I lean into the familiarity of pulling myself up its sprawling branches and swinging my body up and up. Reaching for the sky just as its leaves are.
Have I really lost my dandelion in the spring already?
Did the hungry storms of last night, and the contrast of the harsh summer sun this morning already wilt it?
He so easily welcomed that woman’s touch. Someone from the Capitol no less. And he’s barely touched me in months. Save our desperate grip on each other as the terrors of the night take over.
I will not be sharing a town with the woman Peeta so readily shares himself with.
Instead of rough bark behind my back, I feel the hard arm of a rocking chair digging into my spine. The room is cosy and safe, like Peeta. I feel the sway of my body with the branches of the tree and hug my knees tight to my chest.
“This baby takes nothing from you Kitty, my heart just has to grow some more. Like my tummy. That’s all.”
I relax into her arms, feeling the steady beat of her heart where my head lays. Her stomach is fat, nice and cushy. As fat as anyone in the Seam could ever get. She smells pretty. Like the dirt and plants Daddy lets me dig my grubby little fingers into. I feel the song rattle through my chest as she hums to me. My head gets droopy and I curl further into her. Her hands run through my hair and as she rocks our bodies together on the chair, my head clouds with dreams that I can’t touch yet. But I know they’re there. Happy and warm.
“I’ll always be right here with you baby.”
Shivering in the downpour I’ve been caught in, I hum the same tune she soothed me to. Without thinking, my body rocks back and forth on the soaked moss and lichen on the limb closest to the ground. If I let my hand hang limp from my side I could probably brush the tops of the chives sticking out near the base with my fingertips. I don’t remember my journey down from the top of the tree, but it must’ve happened somehow.
I could be crying. I don’t know. The fat raindrops on my face disguise any that may come.
But it would be hard to disguise the snot squirming its way out of me. I rub my bare forearm under my nose.
I do what I do best.
I run. I hide away. And I sulk.
It doesn’t matter.
They all leave.
Even if they don’t want to, they always do. My father and Prim's choice was made for them. I don’t know what’s worse. To have Peeta’s choice made for him or for him to actively choose that I no longer fit into his life.
Either way, it’s all unbearable to think about. I gasp in sharp breaths and my chest is tight with the pain and fatigue of it all. I feel like I’ve just run the worst marathon of my life, and I’ve never even gone over five miles when training for the Quell put a stick up Peeta’s ass.
His clomping footsteps alert me to his presence long before I can see his form through the sheets of rain obscuring my vision. Maybe if I tuck further into myself he won’t notice me sitting on the lowest branch of the tree.
I was never a lucky person though.
He approaches me slowly, like I would a skittish animal. I tuck my chin into the safety of my knees. Surely he’ll go away if I ignore him hard enough.
I feel the air move around me as he swings a leg up and over and brings his body to rest on the same branch as me. It’s not without difficulty though, I know his leg still bothers him and can be cumbersome at times. After a quiet moment of him gathering his balance again, he lifts my chin up with his finger.
I can feel the tear tracks, dry and crusty against my cheeks and I know I look like a drowned rat, or rather a drowned Buttercup from my little pity party under the torrential rain.
“Oh, Katniss.” Warmth floods through me, all-consuming and relieving as his thumb traces the skin under my eye. “What’s wrong baby?”
My nose stings again as a fresh wave of fat tears fall from my eyes at the nickname. My lip wobbles and I can’t breathe. I try to answer, but everything comes out as a choked sob. Peeta reaches around to wrap his arm around me, rubbing my back in comforting circles. When I finally get the words out, they’re incomprehensible with my stuttering breath, throat full of tears, and snot muffling everything. To anyone but Peeta, who knows me so well, past the need for language.
“Why doesn’t she want me anymore?”
“What brought all of this on sweet girl?”
“You’re leaving me.”
“Not real.”
“Maybe not your arms. But you are. Your heart.”
“Never Katniss.”
Fat rain drops fall from his delicate eyelashes, leaving behind them a darker shade of blond from the moisture.
“You’re right here Katniss.” His steady and warm hands take my hand that’s shivering from the cold. He guides it straight over his chest and the comforting thump of his heart beneath warms me more than his coat he wrapped tightly around me does. I blink at his motions, my mind puzzling and patching them together into an attempt at coherency.
His other hand reaches towards me and he watches me closely for any sign of apprehension in my eyes. I can’t manage any to bubble up in me at the moment. Tentatively, he presses the pads of his fingers against my own chest, speeding up the beat of my own heart along with his under the firm press the palm of my hand has against it. His fingers straighten until the heel of his own hand is flush against my heart. The soaked fabric of my shirt clings to us both from the water of the rain.
“And I’m right here.” The pitch of his voice sounds at the edge of a question and a statement.
It’s not fair to him to be stuck with me though, just because he knows I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He deserves someone good and beautiful. Just like him.
Not a girl scarred from the fire she wore for pageantry and glory.
“I’m not pretty enough for you. I’m not big enough.”
“Sweetheart.”
“I wasn’t enough.”
“Katniss.” My name breaks on his tongue; he physically can’t even force the muscles to move again, as if the ache in his chest is agonisingly painful from the blow of my words. I understand now. His heart is broken. Like I shot an arrow through him instead of the truth. Maybe I did, the day I sang to the birds in kindergarten and we’re forever tethered now from the invisible line of bow string to arrowhead.
“I love you.”
His beautifully made eyes well with tears, glossing the blue over with his pain. My eyes begin to water again, even after I’ve exhausted myself of the hydration required to sustain them. It’s not hard to feel what a man like Peeta feels for yourself, deep in your bones.
“I came back for you. Back to twelve. Back to myself.”
“It kills me that you think you’re not enough. I’m so sorry I said those words in 13 to you. I know I’ll never be able to take them back. Or the-” He stares at my throat, where his hands once wove together into a nest of fear and pure hatred and I swallow under his gaze. “But I promise Katniss. I will remind you how beautiful and smart and brave and loving you are every single day. You are perfect for me.”
“But you don’t want me.”
“I’ve wanted you that way ever since I’ve understood what it meant.”
But that doesn’t make sense. His constant distance and the sincerity behind his words clash within my mind. My brow furrows and my face deepens into a scowl.
“Show me.”
His eyes drag from their connection with mine, down to my lips. He looks back to me and his eyes widen with an emotion I’m all too familiar with.
“I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“I’m afraid I won’t stop Katniss. They changed me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“So don’t stop. You’re my Peeta. No matter what.”
The kiss is gentle and sweet and I pull my body back against the rough bark, forcing him to lean into me even more. I cradle him between my thighs and smile against his lips. They taste like a fresh burst of blueberries on my tongue and my smile widens at the thought of him sneaking his own fresh muffin from the bakery’s supplies. The way his lips slide against mine, slick with the torrent of rain that assaults us is new and exciting. To consume the very rain itself off of his lip makes my chest flutter at the fact that not even the rain will get the chance to touch him that way so long as I remain in this embrace.
He shifts slightly against me and I immediately panic at the feel of him in that way. My body stiffens straight under him and he pulls back from my lips with a sheepish grin.
There’s an apology in his clear eyes but I won’t have that. I speak before his mouth can form the words.
I blurt out in a pant. “I like kissing you.”
I tuck my head into his shoulder to hide the blush that crosses my cheeks. But it’s too late. He’s already seen it if the dopey smile on his face is any indication.
“I like kissing you too.” His lips find the small space of skin by my hairline that isn’t hidden.
I scoot closer to him and burrow into his chest.
And that motion was a big mistake. Or maybe the best mistake I’ve made today.
We both carreen down into the cushion of soft grass below us when I push Peeta off-balance. A giggle bursts from my mouth unbidden as I land mostly on top of him. His body bears the brunt of the fall but he seems completely fine and a goofy grin crosses his face. He leans up to me and my heart flutters when he pulls me in for another short, sweet kiss. I nestle my knees around his hips and pull back from him with a smile.
I reach my hand to his ear and tuck a wisp of blond back behind his ear. The kisses and our proximity have made me bolder. Bold enough to interrogate him. “What is your little blonde girlfriend going to think about this?”
He sits up to bring his upper body off the damp ground and my body follows him.
“Who?”
I roll my eyes at him. I hold a hand to my chest and bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh Peeta it’s been far too long.”
“So that’s what this was all about. You were jealous?”
“No.” I scowl, crossing my arms tight over my chest.
“Katniss, she’s old enough to be our mother. Maybe even our grandmother.”
“Hmm.” My eyebrow twitches. “Maybe you’re into that sort of thing.”
He wraps his arms tighter around my waist, deliberately lower than where they were last time. He looks into my eyes for any sign that he’s gone too far but I won’t give him any. With a light pressure, he squeezes my backside tentatively with a wolfish grin, as if he’s just gotten away with stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar.
“What I’m into is what I have my hands full of right now.”
“But seriously Katniss, she saved us from the bombing in the Capitol after I tried to drag you away. She visited us both but I was the only one awake when she did.” His eyes are tender as he brushes a sopping wet piece of hair off of my collarbone. “It’s only ever been you my darling girl.”
Summary: Bucky is your new neighhor and tension has been building since he moved in so when the water in his apartment stops working he comes to you first.
Author’s Note: So my dear love @mickeyhenrys made this edit for me and it sparked an idea because omg it’s glorious and Bucky in glasses is just 🔥🔥🔥and it all happened while we were thirsting over the recent pics of Seb and his MAN BUN! YUM! Thank you so much love and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you darling Daisy🥰
Warnings: Fun, flirty, some fluff, some tension, the doorbell is a pain in the butt, i-mpl-ie-d s-e-x-y time
The below edit is NOT MINE: credit goes to @mickeyhenrys thank you again my lovely
I’m also including the pic of Seb and his beefy bun below the cut because YES
Summary: Bucky has been your bodyguard for some time now and it’s been hard to deny how badly you want him to be more than that.
Author’s Note: All these new pics of long haired beefy Seb have got me thinking and I thought I’d try a crack at Bodyguard AU. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: flirty tension, some fluff, Bucky is a bit serious and grumpy but he’s soft, mention of s-c-ar-s, a moment of slight p-a-ni-c in the elevator
Bucky holds the door of the elevator open and motions for you to step inside. You walk in and plant yourself along the far wall. Once Bucky is inside he presses the button to close the door.
He dwarfs the entire elevator.
A heavy silence falls between you and your entire body zings with hyperawareness. You try to control your breathing so he won’t notice how affected you are but you’re already concerned it’s written all over your face.
It’s been several months since he’d started being your bodyguard and every one of them has been pure torture. Every inch of him is intimidating with his broad shoulders and thick biceps and legs that go on forever but it’s his eyes that really draw you in. A beautiful blue color like the ocean, framed by long, dark lashes and filled with a softness that contradicts everything about his physical presence.
summary: you have a healthy obsession with buckys arms and hands / plan to tease bucky backfires <3
a/n: just really thought about how huge baker buckys arms must be 😩😤
-gonna go to horny jail 😩
warnings: sexual content/ fingering /choking /tiny bit of period sex mentioned/ mirror fun/ edging / orgasm denial /
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
18+ only !!!!!!!!
please be kind I've never written smut before 🫠
/ masterlist / bucky /
_________________________________________
it's not often that you come see bucky at work mostly because the bakery is extremely busy and because you don't want to do something unsanitary.
when you first met bucky the first thing you noticed his huge arms, like you knew they were strong especially because he works with dough.
you've been caught staring at them multiple times which made you blush that was before you and bucky started officially dating. you were embarrassed how much you wanted to touch his bicep. not only that but the dirty thoughts have consumed you any time you stared at his arms or hands for longer than a second.
it really wasn't your fault bucky wore extra small shirts which made his arms look incredible.
oh and when he pulls up his sleeves you're a goner. even now after a year of dating you can not help yourself and thirst over his very very strong and beefy arms.
you love to hug his arm when you're sitting on the couch with his hand nestled between your thighs it's your second favorite place for his hand - the first one is well deep inside you.
bucky didn't understand it at first and was mostly just calling you out on it but now he's a menace and teases you any chance he gets.
he especially enjoys looking at you while he's making pasta from scratch when he's rolling the dough. you don't want to give in every time but you do.
bucky has been impossible for the past few days, you're on your period and he's been the worst tease ever and your hormones are not helping. today's the last day of your period and you're no longer feeling bloated or bleeding much.
so you came to his work to give him a taste of his own medicine - or at least that was the plan.....
"hi, steve! is bucky here?"
"yeah he's in the back want me to get him for you or?"
"nope i'll just go there."
and you do. and damn was it a good sight for sore eyes.
bucky is rolling the dough you don't know what he's making but there's this big lump of dough that he's massaging pushing around and the sweat is dripping down his temple. the way he just pushes the dough around makes you want to moan out loud.
his hair is put in a bun and his apron is full of flour but he's looking more delicious than any other thing in the bakery.
"oh hey cupcake. didn't see you there, when did you arrive?"
he looks at you and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform.
"hey uh just now." you're trying so hard to be chill but all the heat rushes over you when he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters.
"you alright? did something happen?"
of course he asks that, you don't usually come here so of course he'd think something was wrong.
"oh I'm okay just wanted to see you."
it's not a lie. You did want to see him and make him suffer like he's been making you suffer. the whole idea was to come for a bit in his favorite dress do a twirl few light touches and leave.
but the whole plan went out of the window as soon as you saw him.
the only thing you want right now is his fingers inside you and a hand wrapped around your throat.
bucky checks out your outfit and smirks when he sees you clenching your thighs together.
"lemme' finish this to let it rest and i'll be with you in a minute."
you only have the strength to nod and watch as your boyfriend manages to tease you with a lump of dough.
and when bucky slaps the dough one last time for good measure, you think how you'd like to be on the receiving end.
"okay come with me." he doesn't touch you because there's flour all over him so you just follow like a lost puppy.
"open this please." he points at the door of the locker room and you do it he walks in first and tells you to close the door behind you but not to lock them.
the room is long and narrow on one side there's a long bench and on the other a row lockers and between some of them a mirror and a sink on the same side where the bench is.
bucky takes off his apron, then washes his hands, and you just stand there at a loss of words. your plan really backfired huh.
"tell me what you doin' here doll."
he comes and stands in front of you lifting your chin for you to look at him.
"not that I'm not happy to see you but this dress is a bit too much for a bakery visit? is it not?"
oh fuck.
you're in trouble.
he picks up the hem of the dress not enough to show your ass but still high enough.
"uh its nice outside and I just wanted to take a walk and this is a nice summer dress."
bucky laughs at your attempt to make this not what it is.
"sure is a nice dress."
he finally kisses you, the kiss is gentle and short much to your dismay. and when he pulls away you whine.
bucky lifts a brow at you.
"you sure you just came to see me in this dress for no reason at all?"
"yes i'm sure."
"come here." it takes you approximately a second to obey him. he's sitting on the bench right across the mirror.
he sits you down on his lap so you're both facing the mirror, he also spreads your legs as much as he can. buckys head is on your shoulder his hands still on your bare thighs.
"just came to see me huh?"
he's mocking you but you couldn't care less you just want him to do something.
"please bucky."
he chuckles and you feel the vibrations from his laugh not only that but you can feel his buldge digging into your ass.
you gasp as his cold hands find their way to your breasts. his fingers playing and squeezing your nipple and then he stops.
"don't move be good." you go still and he continues you'd rather have him touch you somewhere else but you need to be patient.
"baby is it okay if I touch you? how is your period? today's your last day if i counted well?"
ever the gentleman, he knows you're not big on period sex it's mostly because you don't like the mess, it's not like you never had it it really depends on the period.
"i'm good. its mostly gone. please touch me."
bucky wanted to rip the panties off but you told him not to do it anymore because apparently he ripped half of your collection.
you stand up and let bucky take them off before sitting down on his lap again.
"just a walk you say... why are your panties soaked darling. did you see something on that walk of yours that you liked." you whine and moan at bucky who is inspecting your very much soaked panties.
"what am I gonna do with you."
buckys hands find their way between your thighs and he's purposely avoiding the place you want him to touch the most.
he lifts the skirt of your dress and looks into your eyes through the mirror.
"you look so pretty like this gonna have to get one for our bedroom, have them mirrors everywhere." you nodd and just want him to fuck you.
finally he slides one finger in and it fills you more than three of your fingers together. he quickly adds another one and you're feeling both like in hell and you're being tortured but also in heaven.
he sits there and his fingers are not moving.
"pleasepleaseplease" you cry out you're so sensitive and needy and you can't belive he's doing this to you.
bucky finally has mercy and starts to move his fingers, the only sound that can be heard are your breaths and his fingers coming in and out of you.
the pace is torture it's slow and deep and he's right next to your g spot and he just won't touch it.
"sound so pretty princess. and look at you just the prettiest doll I've ever seen."
bucky finally adds the third finger, and you're a goner he picks up the movement and touches your spot every single stroak, his other hand, is on your throat, squeezing it.
oh, how you love when he does this.
"bucky bucky I'm close. I'm so close please!"
you manage to choke out when buckys hand squeezes you a bit harder than before.
buckys thumb starts to make circles on your clit and he feels you squeezing his fingers he knows you're close.
"I'm gonna- AHHH! bucky what the fuck."
he completely stops everything, his fingers are out of your pussy his hand no longer around your throat.
you're speechless.
"Doll it's really cute you wanted to take revenge on me but I gotta teach you to be a good girl. can't have you getting ideas."
"but you! I- I didn't do anything!"
"I'll go to see him at work in his favorite dress so he can't resist me and then ill just leave him hanging all day. see how he likes that."
your mouth makes an O and you blush.
"baby you sent that message to me. I'm sure it was meant for natasha but guess you have to check who you be sending these kind of messages to?"
bucky knew you were coming, you had accidentally texted him the message that was meant for nat.
you get up and search for your phone and unlock it and quickly getting to your chat with nat.
you: gonna get him so good nat!!
nat: who ???? what happened??? do I need to kill someone???
shit that's the last message you sent before coming in here you don't even know how you didn't notice the previous message never got to her.
"why didn't you tell me."
"wasn't this more fun?"
"no." you stomp your foot.
you stand in shock when he licks his fingers clean.
"taste so good might have to put you on the menu."
"you're such an-"
"amazing boyfriend whom you love very much?"
bucky finishes your sentence and comes up to you to kiss you, you can still taste yourself and try to deepen the kiss but bucky pulls away.
"don't give me that look doll. I have to go back to work."
you're looking at him giving him your best puppy eyes, at this point you're close to falling on your knees to beg him to just fuck you.
"I'll keep these by the way will give them back tonight."
"bucky no." you look at the panties he stuffed in his back pocket.
"bucky yes."
before he goes back to work, he grabs you from behind and wrapps his hand around your throat and whispers
"don't touch yourself before I get home or you won't get to cum for a week."
then he slaps your ass twice.
"you had some flour there can't have you walking with a dirty dress."
and he walks out.
your phone starts ringing.
nat <3 is calling
"hey are you okay? who are you gonna get? did something happen."
"im okay ill tell you but i'm okay."
"don't scare me like that!."
you apologise and hang up.
how are you supposed to walk home you don't know, your legs are still shaking.
"you okay? need some sugar?" steve offers a doughnut and you just nod.
doing the walk of of shame you shakely leave the bakery maybe this wasn't such a good idea but you're excited for tonight.
[the end]
extra:
"buck is your girl okay? she looked a bit pale and unwell as she was leaving?"
"she's okay just missing some vitamin D luckly it's sunny out so she can catch that before the night comes."
"okay...."
___________________________________________
I'm sorry about the pun udhdhdhd 😭🤡 sue me but I think it's funny
Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.
Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.
“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”
Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.
“Follow me, sir.”
Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.
Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.
“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”
The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.
Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.
When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”
Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.
“Princess-”
‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”
Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”
“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.
Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”
Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.
“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.
It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.
Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.
“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.
Pursing her lips, she let him.
“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”
Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.
“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.
Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.
“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”
“He?” Steve asked.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.
Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.
“What about a future queen?”
Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.
Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”
Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.
After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”
Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.
Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.
It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.
The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.
“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”
Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”
Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.
“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”
His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”
Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.
He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.
“You look beautiful.”
A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.
“You go out, you got away from life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.
Y/N shook her head, “No, I just got away from you.”
It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.
“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”
That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.
The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eye beneath her closed lid and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.
“Y/N?”
Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.
“Virginia?” Y/N asked.
The woman waved her hand in the air, “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”
Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Behind a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.
“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”
Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”
Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”
“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.
Tony smiled, “Precisely, I would know.”
“Mr. Stark-”
Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”
“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”
With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”
“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.
“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”
Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”
Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.
Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”
“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.
Tony leaned back in his chair, “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”
“You knew,” Bucky growled.
Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”
“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.
Tony frowned, “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”
Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.
“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.
Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.
Tony shrugged, “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”
Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”
“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”
Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”
Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”
Summary: You’re still trying to figure out how a healthy relationship works. Bucky is more than happy to show you.
Warnings: mentions of a past toxic relationship, reader is insecure, feelings (because it’s me), Bucky being the sweetest man possible (yes, he’s a warning), established healthy relationship, a tiny bit of possessive!Bucky (in a healthy way), SMUT, exhibitionism, fingering, talks about birth control, unprotected sex, cum kink (sort of), possessive sex (you have to squint), praise, p in v, let me know if I forgot something.
A/N: I was daydreaming about this yesterday and I just had to write, if you like it please let me know. Also I changed my username ‘cause I didn’t like the old one that much.
+18 ONLY, MINORS DNI
I do not consent to have my fics copied, posted or translated to any other site/app/account other than my own tumblr or ao3 accounts.
You clutch your jacket tightly, your knuckles turning white as you secure the denim fabric around you — a nervous habit you've developed over time. You had intended to change before Bucky arrived, but he showed up earlier than expected, leaving you no time, so you just took the first jacked you saw and covered yourself. Insecurities flood your mind as you open the door for him. He gives you a tight hug that communicates how much he missed you, but instead of embracing him back, you just clutch your jacket harder. A shield, of sorts.
"Are you okay, sweetheart? Are you cold?" Bucky asks, concern etched on his face as he gently rubs your hips with his leather covered thumbs.
"I'm not sure about this dress," you admit, avoiding his gaze.
"Why? Don't you like how you look? Let me see it," he suggests, releasing his grip on you, giving you space to remove your jacket.
Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you summon the courage to reveal yourself. It’s a pretty dress, used to be one of your favorites, actually, but you retired it after it caused your ex to almost hit you for “wearing something so revealing”. Today, as you were searching for an outfit and found it hidden at the bottom of your wardrobe, you couldn’t help but choose it, as you felt an overwhelming sense of freedom after trying it on. Now, though, you’re not so sure anymore.
You feel the cold air touching your bare arms and brace yourself for the harsh words, echoes of your past relationship lingering inside your brain. But Bucky remains silent, intensifying your anxiety. It has only been a few months since you started dating the supersoldier, and while you've seen no signs of violence from him, you're still guarded, prepared if the moment comes. Bucky is a gentleman, but so was your ex at the beginning.
"I can change if you want," you quickly offer, seeking to appease any potential displeasure.
"Why would I want you to change?" Something in his voice prompts you to open your eyes. Rather than the disappointment you were expecting, there’s some kind of amazement and even lust as he looks at you up and down. Not a single trace of anger.
The gentleness of his question gives you enough courage to ask, “don’t you think I look like a slut?”
Bucky's eyes shoot up to meet yours, a little shocked, but upon noticing the fear in them his face softens with understanding, and he steps closer, enfolding you in his arms. “Darlin’, you look like a fucking Goddess.” He gently kisses your forehead. “Absolutely stunning.”
Bucky knows about your past relationship and the emotional scars it left behind. When he met you, you were a mess. He thought that an ex-assassin would be the last person you’d choose to date after everything, but apparently he did something right, and the moment you accepted him in your life he vowed to himself he’d do anything to show you what a genuine, nurturing love feels like.
"Are you sure? You're not... mad? I mean, that other men will look at me.” you ask hesitantly.
"Why would I be mad?" Bucky responds, his voice filled with sincerity. Despite the heartbreak upon seeing you so scared, he manages a tiny smirk. "They can look; only I get to touch."
You remain uncertain. Your previous boyfriend, when he was in a good mood, had also claimed not to care when you dressed like this — until another guy so much as glanced your way.
Sensing your hesitation, Bucky leads you to your bedroom, positioning you in front of the mirror and standing behind you. As you gaze at your reflection, he notices the sparkle in your eyes and the joy that emanates from within. You like how you look in the dress, and that realization instantly makes it Bucky's favorite.
His leather-clad hands gently trail along your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Do you feel beautiful?" he asks, admiring your form as much as you do.
You answer, blushing and avoiding his eyes, "Yes."
"And do you feel comfortable?" he inquires further.
You hesitate, your thoughts momentarily scattered. Then, you consider his words and the scenario he paints.
"I... Well..." you trail off, contemplating the tiny sparkle of confidence starting to bloom inside your chest.
"Forget about me for a moment. Imagine you're single, going out with your girlfriends. Do you feel comfortable then?" Bucky prompts.
You ponder his question, allowing yourself to envision the scenario. After a brief moment, you respond, "Yes, I do.”
Bucky raises his hand, cupping your cheek and tilting your head until your eyes meet in the mirror. A proud smile graces his lips.
"Then that's the outfit you're wearing tonight," he declares, his voice filled with certainty and adoration.
You smile timidly at him, not really sure how to deal with this… respect, coming from a boyfriend. His hand starts to travel down through your stomach.
“When the other dudes look at you, and they will…” Bucky lowers his mouth to the shell of your ear and whispers, “I’ll make sure to show them that you’re mine, alright?”
His words cut straight to your core, and you involuntarily press your ass against him, feeling his already hard length. You gasp. He whispers your name.
“Keep doing this and we’re not gonna leave this bedroom tonight.” He murmurs with a deep tone.
“Would it be so bad?” You fake pout, grinding against him again, on purpose this time.
“Well, I really want to show you off in that outfit, so…” He says, but can’t help himself from lowering his hands to the hem of your dress, leaving goosebumps along the way.
“Bucky…” You sigh when he starts giving lingering kisses along the curve of your neck and the bottom of your earlobe.
“But I suppose we have some time before our lateness becomes socially unacceptable, right?” He whispers, sneaking two fingers under the fabric, millimeters away from where you need his touch the most.
“How much?” You ask, watching as Bucky frees his flesh hand from the glove to let you know what’s about to happen.
“Enough,” he says, dragging one finger along your clothed cunt, and moaning at your drenched panties. “Already, baby?”
You only hum in response. He uses his other hand to pull down your panties and lightly tap on your hip, signaling you to step off of them. You obey. Returning his fingers to where they were before, he drags them along your lips, collecting your wetness, and starts the slow circles on your clit. Mustering that confidence Bucky just unburied from a locked place inside your brain, you cover his hand with yours and guide him to your entrance.
“No teasing,” you plead.
Bucky chuckles. “What a greedy woman you are.”
He circles your entrance for a few moments before slowly inserting two digits all the way up, your wet walls making it easy for him. You moan, relieved, and rest the back of your head on his shoulder.
“That enough to make you roll your eyes, darlin’?”
You try rolling your hips, but Bucky quickly encircles your waist with his metal arm, firming his grip so you remain still.
“Please, Bucky…”
“Oh, baby, you know I can’t resist when you beg,” he kisses and bites your shoulder, then curls his fingers inside of you, his knuckles rubbing on that delicious spot inside your hole as he presses his clothed cock against your ass again, “and look at this dress, see what you do to me?”
You feel a twitch in your stomach when Bucky starts stimulating your clit with his thumb, along with the in-and-out movement of his fingers.
“Open those beautiful eyes for me, would ya’?” He asks softly. “See how pretty you get when you beg like that.”
You silently thank the universe that he’s firmly holding you, because his words make your knees almost give in. Panting, you comply with his request, fixing your gaze in the spot where he’s fingering you under your dress. Just like everything else about you, he notices the direction of your eyes.
“You wanna see it, baby? Wanna watch while I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks carefully, amusement lacing his deep voice.
You whimper, imagining the sight, and nod frantically.
“Go ahead, dirty girl.” He encourages.
Satisfied with the permission, you lift one of your legs and place your foot at the bottom of your bed, granting you two full access to the view. You both watch Bucky’s motions in awe, the wetness that covers his fingers reflecting the dim light of the room, silent except for the squishy noises his fingers make as he fucks them into your pussy. The sight almost makes Bucky drop down to his knees to worship you like the Goddess he honestly thinks you are. Actually, if he didn’t know you’re only standing because of his arm around you, he’d probably do just that.
“Like what you see?” He whispers in your year.
You moan in approval, trying to move your hips, but Bucky’s grip is strong, and he smirks.
“Magic word?”
“Faster.” You demand suddenly.
That’s not quite the word Bucky was expecting, but he’s too stunned by your behavior to care. You two had sex before — as soon as you gave him indication that you wanted it, because how could he resist you? —, but it was always so… loving. I mean, Bucky really wants to show you how tender real love can be, but he’s absolutely relishing this newfound confident side of yours. Never had he imagined you could be so filthy, and he really wants to beat the shit out of your ex for making you think that you have to hide it. Also, as he had already imagined it would, your slight dominance leaves him at your mercy, and he moans as he pleases you, fastening his movements.
That familiar knot starts to build up in your belly, and you try hard not to roll your eyes, not wanting to miss a single moment of the view.
“Bucky…” you call, finding it harder and harder to breathe. “I’m gonna come.”
“Do it, baby. Let go for me.” He whispers next to your ear, satisfied to feel your tight walls clenching his fingers. “You’re such a good girl. So fucking beautiful in this dress.”
With the fog of pleasure taking over your brain as the words hit your ears, you moan loudly and let the overwhelming feeling consume you. Bucky can’t quite keep himself from grinding against your ass as you drench his fingers with your sweet nectar, whimpering while he fingers you all the way through your orgasm. He watches, grunting in pleasure, as you fight your eyelids from closing, until you can’t control yourself anymore, going limp into his arms and rolling your eyes with relief.
Coming down from the high, you look at him through the mirror, smiling sheepishly as you watch him raise the two fingers he just used to make you come and suck them hungrily, licking until there’s no trace of your orgasm anymore. Finding it hard to decide if he should compose himself and drag both your horny asses to the bar or toss you in bed and keep your legs spread open for him to eat out as he pleases until the morning lights, an idea pops into his head.
“You’re on birth control, right?” He asks. He never fucked you bare before, so he never had to ask, but, well… There's a first time for everything, right?
“I am, why?” You ask, still a little dizzy.
He smirks, then gets you by the waist and tosses you in bed unceremoniously, making you gasp in surprise and then giggle.
“Bucky, we have to go.” You remind him, but give no indication that you’ll get up.
You watch as your boyfriend determinedly undresses himself, unashamedly staring at his built up body. The muscles from his abdomen tightens as he bends down to get rid of his jeans, and you lick your lips seeing his long length being freed, already hard with need.
“Sam’s got time. He can wait.” He answers, using his knees to spread your thighs apart as he positions himself right where he belongs: between them.
You make a motion to undress yourself, but when Bucky realizes what you’re doing, he stops you.
“Keep the dress.” He says, and you lay back.
You feel the coldness of Bucky’s dog tags touch the skin of your chest as he towers over you, using his metal hand to support himself and the flesh one to cup your cheek and caress it with his thumb. His expression turns into a soft one.
“When those guys out there look at you dressed like this…” he teases your over sensitive entrance with his tip, the sensation almost too overwhelming. Almost. “They’ll desire you, baby, and they’ll have no clue that you’re walking around with my cum dripping from this pretty pussy.”
With one swift motion, he enters you, unable to contain the pornographic moan that leaves his lips. You gasp in surprise, both from the lack of a condom and from the fact that Bucky never filled you up so abruptly like this. You’re not complaining, though, as you feel his bare skin stretching your soft walls.
“You like that, baby?” He asks when you raise your hands to his short hair and pull it. “Everyone will see you in this beautiful dress and they won’t even imagine that I just fucked the shit out of you in it.”
Bucky slowly – so slowly – takes his cock out of your hole, leaving just the tip, and sharply enters you again, earning an almost scream from your lips.
“Want them to know…” you manage to say hoarsely “Want them to know I’m yours.”
Your words hit Bucky in an instinctive place of his brain, awakening all those raw feelings of protection and possessiveness inside his subconscious, and he almost finishes then and there. He thrusts into you vigorously once again before answering.
“Oh, they will,” if you had the mind to pay attention, you'd notice his voice just got impossibly lower, “we’ll show them, alright? You and me.”
Bucky loses the ability to make coherent sentences as he feels your walls clenching around him, a sign that you’re already getting close again. Without hesitation, he fastens his movements, losing himself in the feeling of your soft interior.
His thrusts are harsh, but still caring in a way, since you know he’s not doing it to hurt you, but to please you. He kisses you passionately, holding your face and licking the inside of your mouth, because if he's being honest with himself, if you keep almost screaming his name like you were, he might as well not last as long as he needs to make you come again.
You wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle making you feel him even deeper inside your cunt, and he almost loses it when he feels you dragging your heels along his lower back.
With one hand, you scratch his back hard enough to feel his warm blood staining your fingers, growing desperate with the tight knot that’s once again forming inside you. Bucky kisses and bites and licks your neck, not giving a damn about the pain — enjoying it, even. Your other hand goes straight to your clit and you start treating yourself with just the right amount of pressure and speed. The action, of course, doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky, and he grunts in approval.
The headboard slams into the wall as Bucky feels his movements start to become a little sloppy. “Gonna come.” He says, panting “Gonna come inside you, baby. Gonna make you all mine.”
A jolt of electricity travels down your spine, getting you closer and closer to the edge, and you buckle your hips up in excitement.
“Let go, Bucky.” You command, making him roll his eyes. “Fill me up, make me yours.”
“Need you to come first, darlin’. Need to feel you co- Ah” Bucky’s request is interrupted by the loud moan you let out when you finally snap, no longer able to control your second orgasm of the day. He follows you not a long time after, as you can feel his hot seed painting your walls white, and he drops his forehead to your shoulder.
You don’t even have a chance to catch your breath when you feel his thick fingers once again entering your overstimulated pussy. You whimper, holding his wrist.
“Just a little bit, sweetheart,” he coos, “gotta make sure it stays inside.”
You whimper again, but let him do his thing, hearing the squishy noises his fingers make as they shove every drop of his seed all the way up before it slips away. Then he proceeds to get up, put on his clothes and retrieve your panties from the floor.
“Can you lift your legs for me, doll?” He asks, and you obey. “That’s my good girl.”
Bucky slides the piece of lingerie up your legs, until they’re back to their place — securing his cum inside of you — and helps you get up, holding your hips until he’s sure you can still walk.
Just as you were going to comment on the plans you two have, you hear Bucky’s phone ringing from his pocket.
“Hi, Sam.” He answers, staring at you. “We’re on our way. We had a little bit of a… situation.” A playful smirk adorns his lips as he says that. “No, I didn’t make her up, Sam. She’s real, we’re just a little late.”
You chuckle. When Bucky invited you to meet his friend — Bucky calls him a colleague, but you can see by the look on his eyes that he cares about him like a dear friend — Sam Wilson (yes, the Captain America), he warned you Sam would probably question if you’re real, since he can’t believe the “bionic staring machine” could be so charming as to find a girl for himself.
Said staring machine hangs up the phone and gives you a peck on the lips.
“Ready?”
He guides you to the door after you secure him you can walk by yourself, opening it for you like the gentleman he is. However, before you can get out, he stops you.
You look at him questioningly.
“Everyone will know that you’re mine,” he reassures, “and if you behave…” he lowers his head until you can feel his warm breath against the skin of your ear, “when we get back, I’ll make sure to worship you like the fucking Goddess you are.”
SUMMARY: Nat asks you about a certain contact by the name of “Bucky Boo Bear 🐻💖💕💗” and gets the surprise of a lifetime.
PART 2 | DRABBLE 1
“Hey Y/N, mind if I use your phone?” Nat asked with your phone already in her hand, signifying the fact that even if you said “no” she’d use it anyway.
“I have to call Clint and mine only has ten percent,” she explained.
“How do you live like that?” you asked incredulously. “I start freaking out when mine’s on seventy.”
Nat shrugs indifferently. “I like living close to the edge. I’m all about the danger zone.”
He's not the Winter Soldier anymore... but he's no spring chicken, either. Happy birthday, Buck 😘
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (hands au)
Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI. Oral sex (m receiving), orgasm delay/edging, ruined orgasm, banter, lingerie, PiV. Bucky tries soooo hard not to cum lol. They're in love, your honor 💗
Word Count: 1.7k
@buckybarnesevents Bucky's Birthday Bash 2023
my masterlist
northbound & reaching
Brooklyn Dodgers. Boston Bees. Chicago Cubs. Detroit… fuck. The Detroit whats? Bucky squeezed his eyes closed and tried to think.
He had to make this last.
Detroit Tigers. Damn it. He shouldn’t have had to think so long about that one. Should’ve been able to remember it. Oh, god. Keep going, keep going. What next?
There were the Phillies, in Philadelphia, of course. Stupid name. And then the Pirat—
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jolting up on their own. “Baby, baby, slow down, I can’t—”
From the floor between his legs, you looked up at him and smiled. Well, it would’ve been a smile— he could see the crinkles by your eyes, knew what those meant— but you couldn’t exactly smile with his cock in your mouth.
Bucky’s spread thighs trembled, the tide inside him rising as you pulled back once more with hollowed cheeks. Grabbing fistfulls of the comforter with both hands as an anchor, the plates of his left arm shifted and whirred, betraying just how hard he was working to hold back. He didn’t think he could. He wasn’t gonna make it.
Maybe it would be okay; you probably wouldn’t mind if he came now. Okay. Okay. Bucky took a deep breath, but just before he gave in and let go, you were gone— your wicked mouth replaced by your hand, squeezing tightly at the base of his cock.
Bucky groaned. “God damn it.” His dick flexed helplessly in your grip as you kept his orgasm at bay, and only the slightest, weakest dribble of cum flowed down his length and over your hand.
It was embarrassing; you hadn’t even been sucking on him for very long, and here was, ready to blow. Was blowing. Did this count? He didn’t think so— if anything, it only left him even more frustrated and horny.
To tell the truth, he’d been close to the edge ever since you stepped out of the bathroom wearing… whatever you were wearing. He’d never seen anything like it; strappy, with sheer black lace that somehow covered you while still letting him see everything, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. It would be so easy for him to rip right through the flimsy fabric— but no, he couldn’t do that. You hated when he accidentally tore your clothes, so he’d never do it on purpose.
But god, he wanted to.
It had taken him a moment to pick up his jaw from the floor when you approached him, and you used that time to your advantage— his brain was still struggling to compute when you pushed him down onto the bed and dropped to your knees between his legs.
Bucky’s left arm whirred as he leaned his weight back onto his hands. His cock jumped again, and he exhaled slowly— had to stop thinking about it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.
No, that tiny bit of release hadn’t done anything to dampen the desperation he felt in his gut. Baseball. He was supposed to think about baseball.
“Buck,” you said softly, your voice lifting at the end. A question. He squinted one eye open, keeping his gaze focused squarely on your nose. Not on your chest, and definitely not on your peaked nipples that stood out under the delicate design. Fuck. Your mouth was still dangerously close to his cock, your breath hot against his spit-slick skin. “Do you want to come?” you asked.
Jesus Christ. Didn’t matter if he wanted to or not— he was going to if you kept this up. “I… I mean…” He shuddered, goosebumps blooming on his skin.
“I thought you wanted to wait,” you murmured, dragging your lips along one side of his length. The vibrations of your words rumbled through his dick and straight up his spine. “If you wanna come, you can.”
“I don’t…” Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “I don’t want it to be over.” He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling— safer that way. Maybe.
“Baby, it’s your birthday,” you simpered, mischief in your voice. Bucky gulped. “I’m not going to stop after you only come once.”
“Can’t say that,” he whined, his hips jerking up reflexively.
“Can’t say what?” you asked coyly. “That it’s your birthday?” You let go of his cock and sat back on your haunches. He wished you hadn’t— the pressure had been helping— “Sure, you’re no spring chicken anymore, but there’s no reason to be embar—”
“You know what I meant.”
“—rassed. Look.” You glanced pointedly at his cock, and the slick patch it had leaked against his thigh. It twitched hopefully at the attention. “Most impressive hundred-year-old dick I’ve ever seen. I—”
Bucky sighed, opening his eyes only to narrow them at you. “Exactly how many hundred-year-old dicks have you seen?”
“Enough,” you said with a shrug, then rose to your feet. “Enough to know yours is my favorite.” With a hand on his bare chest, you guided Bucky back to lie flat on the middle of the bed, then climbed up to straddle him. You settled down flat on top of him, almost like a hug… except your tongue teased his lips until they opened for you, and there was that lace, all that goddamn lace. It felt strange against his skin, different, and maybe he would’ve liked it if he didn’t resent it so much for separating you from him.
“Gonna tell Steve you said that,” he mumbled against your mouth.
With a playful gasp, you pulled away from him. “You would never,” you said, but when he met your eyes, your expression softened. You lifted a hand to brush his hair off his forehead, tucking a longer piece behind his ear.
So tender. So gentle.
Bucky pulled his lower lip between his teeth, struck with an entirely different, yet equally overwhelming, feeling. “I love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you. The words were never enough, but they were all he had.
You knew that, of course— and the smile you gave him in return was so sweet that it made his heart ache. But before he could think of something smart to say, one corner of your lips lifted slyly.
Oh, no.
“Don’t go soft on me now, Barnes,” you said, and he jolted when your fingers wrapped around his cock again. “Oh, good,” you smirked. “You’re not.”
You sat up straight, showing off the expanse of the— bodysuit? That sounded like the right word. Bucky couldn’t help but reach for you with both hands, thumbing over your nipples before giving in to temptation and pawing greedily at your breasts.
Fuck baseball. No more distractions; Bucky needed to burn this into his memory, keep this image of you safe there forever. Confident and beautiful and better than he ever dared to dream, you rose up on your knees and lined him up. You’d have to pull the fabric to the side, he guessed. Would be easier for him to just rip it off— then he’d be able to get your tits in his mouth, too. But no. He couldn’t. Almost idly, he pinched the lace-covered peaks between his fingers, and— oh.
You swept his cockhead through your arousal— and he could feel it, because there wasn’t anything covering you— even though you hadn’t moved the fabric— what?
You lowered yourself onto his cock, wiggling your hips a bit as you leaned back and took all of him in one slow motion. From this angle he had an unimpeded view of how he disappeared inside you, fitting perfectly into the cut-out section in the center of the gusset.
“Oh, god,” he groaned again, rubbing his face with one hand.
He wasn’t gonna last, and you knew it. You giggled when his breath stuttered, clenched around him when he grabbed your hips roughly. His fingertips dug into your skin, but he hesitated.
“C’mon, baby,” you encouraged softly. “Let go. Fill me up.”
Bucky groaned, a mix of exasperation and pleasure, and cursed under his breath. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” His hands on your hips weren’t enough; he planted his feet flat on the bed. “Fucking take it, then.”
After holding back for so long, the pace Bucky set was unforgiving. Between his sharp thrusts up into you and the way he moved your hips to meet them, he chased his high with no reservations. It didn’t take him long at all to find himself on the precipice once again; this time, he jumped over headfirst. His face scrunched up with pleasure, his muscles began to shake, and he couldn’t muffle his moan as he spilled inside you.
Bucky didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but he was still catching his breath when you started to move again. Just a slow circle of your hips at first, then a subtle grind that would’ve been barely noticeable if he wasn’t so oversensitive at the moment. He sucked in a shallow breath and opened his eyes.
“No time to waste,” you said. “We’re behind schedule.”
He had to blink a few times before he could actually see you. “Hmm?”
“One orgasm for every year, right? Tradition, or something.”
Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Dunno where you heard that one,” he said, slurring slightly. “’S impossible.” His words didn’t seem to discourage you in the slightest; if anything, you began moving a bit quicker. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.
“Only one way to find out.”
He couldn’t even pretend to scowl.
“Besides,” you continued, “you haven’t unwrapped your gift yet.”
Maybe Bucky’s brain was still buzzing with post-orgasm static, but he couldn’t remember seeing any presents in the room. His brows furrowed, but you looked exceptionally pleased with yourself when you took both of his hands in your own and led them to your chest. You used his hands to pull at the neckline of your bodysuit— the elastic stretched a bit under the slight tension, then stopped.
You didn’t speak, but Bucky heard you loud and clear. With a crooked grin and a sharp snap of his hips, he tore the lingerie to shreds.
He didn’t know how many rounds this old body could go before it tapped out, but he figured his birthday was as good a time as any to find out.
pairing: DBF!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Mafia!Princess Reader
concept: The truth is you wanted him even if it might shake the world, but in the end, he is your world and you are his queen.
word count: 1k
warnings: poetic fluff with cute themes, poetic love-making, fing—ering, semi-public love-balcony love, kisses, hair pulling, age gap, secret relationship,- nickname--( Princess) Lupul alb= white wolf in Romanian
a/n: just a cute daydream because he looked so dilf.
the cute gif and moodboard made by me
lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel thank you for letting me scream with you
line divider: @s-tarksintern
Masterlist
The lines on his skin where your lips rested still evoke a feeling of breathlessness, a spark of the flame that he ignited in you that night.
Whispery murmurs of the night breeze flicker along the pure white curtains as they catch the gleaming moonlight of the night. You can actually see your heels dancing on the marble floor, as you look at your reflection on the floor.
Your eyes are drawn to the pictures adorning the walls of the mansion's study room. As you are leaving the ballroom to get some fresh air, you’re curious about who the man of the house is.
Your eyes catch sight of him in his striking portrait, with cerulean eyes fiercely peering into the dark shades.
You have never seen anyone else quite like him.
A man in satin and a shiny suit, his hair gelled back, a man in power, a mafia dilf.
Lupul alb
“Fucking him will be a dream, but he seems a bit cocky for my taste.” You hold onto your champagne glass as you draw closer to his portrait.
Heavy steps are heard resonating through the room until they become loud enough to be clearly heard. As you turn around, you see a powerful man in a tux staring at you smolderingly.
“Here, Princess, have a taste. But, if I taste you, no one will be able to have you but me, the cocky man." a voice behind echo.
Your mouth suddenly dries up.
His close proximity causes your heart to race. The weight of his stare makes you shudder.
Dropping his sapphire eyes to meet yours, you hesitate to breathe as your body voluntarily moves towards him as if under the sway of the wolf himself, his tight grip tingling your skin. "Is that enough cockiness for you or do I have to ask you what you are doing in my office away from the party?"
Rather than run the world, let's be skin to skin.
The mafia princess of another territory knows you should stop, even if you are in the arms of a mafia king you desire.
You feel at peace even though it is so dangerous and risky.
While you are pressed against his balcony, one hand is beneath your dress and the other is between your legs, pressing deeply into your body. Your dress falls down from your right shoulder.
The grunts and growls from Bucky with each thrust make you forget that anyone at the party can see you being fucked out.
His fingers wrap around your wrists, holding them in place as he sloppily kisses your neck and leaves his marks all over.
Each touch sets you on fire as his kisses fill your skin. The more kisses you receive, the more desperate it becomes to be touched.
There is a tickling sensation on your skin as his golden bracelet tickles you. He has locked you down for him alone.
When he first saw you in your father's office, you were so innocent and pure. Because of how shy you were, you could not even look at him. The most significant deal in his life was to have access to your sweet body and hear your moans for him alone.
“Shhh, princess, you don't want to get caught with the big bad wolf, do you?”, he bites you on your neck roughly and groans. "I'm going to show everyone that you are mine right here and now." His hips thrust into you slowly.
The moment he saw you in his bed, it was as if your soft sounds, your moans, drew him in even deeper as he craved your innocence, and he kept coming back for more.
It was as if your ragged breath spread clouds over the dark night as you breathed in a silent moan at the full moon and savored each thrust and kiss.
Feeling intoxicated by his intense sensation, you clutch his dark chestnut hair and shift your hips with his.
"You're becoming a brat, Princess, and I can fuck the brat out of you." You can feel the heat of his mouth covering yours before he kisses you roughly.
Your eyes rolls to the back of your head as he pulls your hair to blow down on your neck.
While you are trembling, your heart pounding, and softly screaming his name, a tingle of pleasure sweeps through your body. Your climax is ignited as you hear the stars of the night engulf in pleasure.
As his trust, he wanted to take hold of every part of you.
Your life depends on it, so you scream loudly so everyone can so everyone can hear who the man making your every wish come true is.
Your heart desires him.
The two of you deserve each other.
Bucky is always called a cold, calculated proud man by the people who see him.
You sigh breathlessly as he caresses your cheek. His thumb rubs over your soft lips.
In his eyes, you do not see cruelty, but you see eyes that have changed you completely.
The truth is you wanted him even if it might shake the world, but in the end, he is your world and you are his queen.
Summary: You’re in grad school and it’s been a rough semester but thankfully your father knows just who can help you get back on track and pass your organic chemistry class.
Author’s Note: Here’s my first crack at DBF!Bucky. Ater all these award ceremonies I just had to do it haha. It moves pretty quickly because well, he’s fucking hot and we want him! The reader is around 22-23 and Bucky would be about 20 years older ish. Everyone is consenting and of age. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you love!
“Come on Dad! I don’t see the need for this! I’ll make sure I get myself together for next semester and do better.”
Your Dad gives you a pointed look with his heavy sigh. “Sweetheart. You’re paying far too much money to not be getting the grades you’re capable of. Please, just give it a try. For me.”
You stare unblinking while you try to find the willpower to keep up the fight but it crumbles quickly at his pleading eyes and you give in with a soft, “fine.”
You never expected to see your dad's best friend watching you from across the smoky room as you danced on stage.
No one except your best friend knows that you started dancing at night. She's the one who helped you get the job after seeing you struggle to pay tuition, books, clothes. Again. You barely made it last semester. Tired of watching you barely scrape by, she told you about a place where you could make good money.
All you had to do was strip.
You balked at first. Thinking you didn't have the body for it, not to mention the coordination or skills. She talked you into auditioning, showed you a few moves, and practically shoved you on stage. Your worries went out the window before the first song ended.
The guys went wild over you.
Four months later, they still can't get enough of you.
You're in the middle of a set, the dulcet tones of earned it playing overhead when you notice him. All eyes on you as you make your way across the stage. But you only see one very familiar pair, it takes a minute for you to realize who you're looking at, but when you do, your heart skips a beat before taking off in a staccato pattern.
Bucky.
Brilliant blues gazing right at you, piercing you with a heady, unreadable expression. A hint of a smirk pulling at his lips as he tosses back his whiskey.
He stands, running his tongue across his teeth as he slowly shakes his head.
You panic, stumbling off the stage, clutching your shirt to your chest, ignoring the club manager calling your name. You push past the girls, waving off their concerns with a fake smile, claiming that you don't feel good. You don't. You're seconds from freaking out. Shit. Shit. He's going to tell your dad. The urge to scream claws at your chest. You don't know how you're going to deal with this. Your dad has always been a judgmental bastard.
You make it to the dressing room, locking the door behind you. Resting your head on the wooden surface, you catch your breath.
"Naughty girl. Knew there was more to you."
You startle, spinning around, pressing your back into the door. Bucky's on the couch, that same unreadable expression in his darkening eyes. A predatory sizing up his prey.
"I can explain," you say, your mouth snapping shut when he holds up his hand.
"I don't need an explanation, sweetheart." Before relief can fill your veins, he crooks two long fingers, casually beckoning you to him.
"Only thing I need is for you to sit on my thigh and grind that little cunt all over me while I decide what your punishment should be for showing these men what should be mine," Bucky grins, rolling up his sleeves as he spreads his legs, getting comfortable.
You learn why he felt so at ease a few months later.
" I would hate for someone to accidentally tell your daddy how his little girl spends her nights."
summary: It’s not his first birthday after Hydra, but the first birthday he thinks he actually wants to celebrate—only because of YN.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: nothing, fluff, Bucky is a simp for his girl, not entirely proofread
author’s note: It’s Bucky’s birthday!! And sorry for being a simp for the “my best friend's younger sister is my girlfriend” trope.
***
Within a blink of an eye, the woman turned off the vibrating alarm on her watch in order to not disturb the finally deeply sleeping super soldier who rested on his side and had the pair of strong arms he called his own tightly wrapped around her still tired body. Her eyes slowly and tenderly wandered over his relaxed face, void of any haunting thought that might linger somewhere in his mind and entirely at ease with the world—for now. Only a few hours earlier, she had struggled to even get him to lay down and at least try to rest a bit after another nightmare had shaken his entire soul only a few short moments after he had fallen asleep for the first time that night.
Soft knuckles gently, barely palpable, caressed his cheek, already covered in new dark stubbles before even softer lips pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of his perfect mouth with those tender lips of his. A low chuckle escaped the woman at the sight of them morphing into a half-smile, and she desperately hoped that the man dreamed of something far more pleasant than his mind tended to grant him.
“Sweet dreams, my love,” she whispered, even too quietly for her own enhanced hearing, trying everything not to wake him in the middle of the night and detangling her body out of his embrace. With a soft smile, YN put the pillow she always rested on closer to his face and sneaked around the bed in their shared room in order to light the candle Bucky was stubbornly convinced it smelled exactly like her. She wasn’t sure about that, but whatever helped him to have a few uninterrupted hours of sleep, she did—even if it meant raiding every single Bath & Body Works in the Tri-State area.
Yes, she even sacrificed herself and went to those in New Jersey.
Before the woman sneaked out of their bedroom, covered in sweatpants and one of Bucky’s Henley shirts, she couldn’t stop herself from bending over his sleeping form once more and pressing a gentle kiss to his soft dark strand. Then, she was able to leave him behind for now, pressing herself in between the thin crack between the door and doorframe she had created, so the always brightly lit hallways wouldn’t disturb the soldier in his much-needed rest.
Humming, YN walked down the hallways, took the elevator, and went straight into the grand, perfectly stocked, and just as well equipped kitchen of the compound with a mission in mind. She knew that Bucky hadn’t had a proper birthday since their time way back—she remembered the last one as if it had been only yesterday, even though over seventy years had passed since that day. Since his return to his self and since his rehabilitation, no one seemed to think of his birthday as a day he wanted to celebrate with others—Bucky, at the very least. But since a few weeks or even months, the soldier had dropped hints that he might be ready to do this again, to celebrate the day he was born.
Maybe it was partly her doing, but YN wasn’t as self-consumed to assume anything like that, so she only had gathered the clues and hints her boyfriend had scattered casually throughout their conversations and came up with a plan. That was why the younger Rogers was up on her feet at four in the morning and prepared the recipe for the cake she intended to bake for the man upstairs before everyone would woke up one after the other. And because he knew his habits better than anyone else—well, except for her brother, maybe—she had to be as early and fast as possible to get everything done before his morning run with Steve.
But YN ran out of luck after the three cake bases had wandered into the oven, and she had turned to the preparations of the cream filling.
Her ears would’ve usually picked up to the soft padding of feet on the floor, but her mind visited deep and hidden places while every step of getting the cream perfect was utter instinct and didn’t need the assistance of her thoughts. So Bucky was able to sneak up onto her and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, watching his girl do what she always had loved the most, observing her distant eyes and soft expression ingrained in her pretty face. He could feel his heart flutter at the absolutely domestic sight in front of him, and the former Winter Soldier knew that he finally had found his home, the place where he wanted to stay and with whom he wanted to grow old.
It was her doing why he wanted to try and celebrate his birthday again. The past still belonged to him, yes, but YN made every single day brighter than the one before and made him finally realize and see that his past wasn’t his fault—just as her past wasn’t her fault either. They probably had helped each other better as every single of their mandatory therapy sessions combined. The shadows and memories still haunted him, maybe worse than hers, but it had gotten better, especially after he had found the courage to ask her for a shared bedroom.
A smile tucked at his lips as Bucky slowly walked over to the humming woman and gently wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her lovingly against his chest, and chuckled deeply at the surprised gasp. “Someday, you’ll be my death.” A soft laugh followed YN’s words, and the soldier bent down to press a kiss to her right shoulder, inhaling her soothing scent mixed with his own and the aroma of the cake baking in his back. “It’s not my fault that your mind is always so occupied, doll,” he grinned and wrapped his arms tighter around her middle, pulling her even closer to him before pressing a kiss to her neck and one to her cheek.
“Good morning,” Bucky greeted her in a soft mumble as he always did and let her turn in his arms after she had stirred the filling one last time. Her smile was as radiant as the rising sun outside the window, and Bucky felt lovestruck again—just as the day all those decades ago when he finally realized that he had fallen in love with his best friend’s younger sister, who always had been off-limits for him. His heart ached so beautifully as she pulled him down towards her and pressed their lips together in the softest of kisses, her fingers carding through his hair, bringing him comfort to an extent he had never thought possible again.
“Happy Birthday, love.” It was only a whisper against his lips, but he could hear every single emotion swimming in those three words, making his heart race and jump in joy and love. A smile widened on his face and made him kiss YN another time. “Thank you, darlin’,” he whispered back and let her cradle his face in the palms of her hands, chuckling softly as kisses rained down on his skin. “This was supposed to be a surprise, but hey, I knew I couldn’t be so lucky. I didn’t wake you, though, right?” Bucky shook his head and kissed her forehead gently. “Jus’ woke up because you weren’t there anymore. And stop trying to fool my sleepy head with that pillow you always push closer to me. It’s not even close competition to how it feels when I hold your body, doll. But… thanks for lighting up the candle.”
These candles were a lifesaver for him every time YN had to go on a mission to which he wasn’t assigned. It helped to push back the dreams and loneliness, the dark thoughts and memories. Sometimes he even managed to go through a two-week-long mission of hers without a single nightmare—but a vanishing stock of candles was the result of it. At least it always meant hour-long dates in the city to restock his supply of YN-candles, as he liked to call them, and uninterrupted time with his girl.
YN smiled up at him and tenderly stroked through his hair and over his cheek. “Of course, love. Nothing to thank me for. And I will try to keep the pillow-thing in mind.” They both grinned before the timer at the oven alarmed them both. “Wanna watch while I finish up your cake? But you have to promise me to act all surprised and flattered later on.” YN threatened him with the spatula covered in cream and made him laugh, just as she had hoped. “Only when I get to try this masterpiece right now.” With that, she playfully rolled her eyes and dipped a finger into the filling to let him taste his favorite flavors. And Bucky was eager to suck every bit off her finger while holding eye contact, which made her all flustered and blushing in the middle of the kitchen. “Perfect,” he huskily whispered and leaned down for a kiss, but YN pressed a hand against his chest and only pecked his cheek innocently. “I know what you’re trying, Barnes, and this will only happen tonight. Not now, not between presents, not before or after blowing out the candles and cutting the cake. Tonight.”
The Barnes laughed wholeheartedly and still pulled her close to his side, pressing a tender kiss to her sweet lips. “Whatever you command, Agent Rogers.”
***
Only something short (and shitty) for my beloved birthday boy (I’m so sorry for this mess of words up there). I really need to continue the stuff for him I still have sitting around because I miss some Bucky magic on my blog. As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!
Summary : you own a cafe. Bucky’s trying to work through his shit.
A/N : two in one day? Aren’t you lucky.
When Bucky met you he was a changed a man.
As changed as an ex assassin with a metal arm and superhuman strength could be.
Gone were the days of mission reports and masked, grime slicked faces. No more soviet slugs, no more murdering innocents. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, I’m no longer the Winter Soldier and you are part of my efforts to get my life back together.
Or something like that.
He’d taken up therapy. Once a week for one hour, unpacking decades worth of baggage he kept locked away in the folds of his mind. He’d come to your cafe after every session - 2pm on the dot - and not because the coffee was good.
Nah, he came because of you.
The bright eyed girl. Bouncing hair and gleaming smile. In another life he would have had no issue asking you out, but a hundred years of trauma has an affect on his confidence. You were like a soothing balm over his mind. After an hour of facing demons with gaping mouths, drooling nothing but trauma over his shoulder - seeing your smile made them shrivel into the darkness once more.
“Hey Bucky,” you beam, joyful, full of light and he wonders how you do it. “The usual?”
“Hey,” he sits at the counter. “Please doll.”
You sit your book down, get to work on making him a black coffee - one sugar because he needed the lift up.
You place it in front of him with a grin, “one black with sugar.”
He thanks you, “what you reading today?”
You push your book across the counter, bent corners, pages dog eared and he could tell it was well loved. A Time to Kill.
“You seen the movie?” You ask him, leaning your head in your hands and looking up at him through your lashes and fuck - if he hadn’t dreamed of that in another context.
Bucky shakes his head, takes a sip and watches as you think through what you say next.
“I’ve got it on DVD, you could borrow it or…” you trail off for a moment, before - fuck it. “You could come round? Only if you want.”
Your cute. Cheeks blushed pink, big eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to you? His candle in the dark, warped reality of his life.
“Tonight?” He finds himself asking.
—
Your apartment is what he expects it to be - immaculate.
A humble one bedroom with eggshell painted walls and dark oak furniture. You open the door to him with a smile, ushering him inside. You’ve laid out snacks - popcorn, chips and these little jelly sweets in colour coordinated bowls.
He watches you as you load up the DVD player. It’s the first time he’s seen you out of uniform, short shorts and oversized graphic tee with these big fluffy slippers that look too big compared to your slender legs.
You have great legs.
“Never expected this to be your kinda film,” Bucky comments as you sit beside him, throwing him a blanket as you wrap yourself in your own.
“I find it best not to judge a book by its cover,” you reply with a smirk. “Who doesn’t love a good crime movie?”
You had a point.
As the movie played on you got closer, until his arm was resting on the sofa above you, two blankets down to one, your back pressed to his side and he was sure it was a good film - but he couldn’t concentrate. He just hoped you didn’t ask any questions about it.
He’d never been this close. To study the curl of your lashes as they kissed the tips of high cheekbones and the soft slope of your nose and the freckle you had just below your ear. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever fucking seen.
You yawn softly as the credits roll. Bucky moves to stand up but you call his name.
“You can take the sofa,” you rub your hands together. “It’s late.”
He nods, feels his heart jump and he doesn’t miss the breath of relief you let out at his acceptance. Maybe you thought he didn’t want you - the furthest thing from the truth - but he knew his exterior was steely - maybe he could let you in.
You bring him pillows, make the sofa look like the comfiest bed in the world and before you retire to your room you kiss his cheek.
“G’night Bucky.”
He leaves before you wake up.
—
Bucky found out he was jealous on a Tuesday afternoon.
He never remembers feeling like this in the 40’s - that green brush of envy as a jock leaned across the counter waffling words he couldn’t hear. You carried on working, humming occasionally but never really listening.
Bucky gets closer and your eyes shift to him, face lighting and you greeted him with that smile that melted his vital organs.
“Hey doll, just the usual please.”
You nod, refusing his money as you get to work on his coffee, and he wonders if the fact you’d never taken a dime from him was a sign you liked him. He hoped it was.
You’re turned away when Bucky catches shit-house in the corner staring openly at your ass - no shame, licking his lips with a smile and Bucky felt the involuntary shift of his metal arm beneath his clothes.
Punk.
“What’s it gonna take babe?” The jock says to you as you turn to clean the counter. You cut a glance in his direction, scowl on your face that Bucky had never seen before because it was so unlike you - his girl with the blazing smile.
“I’m here everyday, won’t you let me take that pretty ass out on a date?” What a gentleman.
You openly bristle, place a bill in front of him with a scowl.
“And I tell you everyday Nathan, I’m not interested in dating,” you respond. “Cash or card?”
Bucky chuckles. He’d never seen that side to you. Fire burning your fingertips, tongue like a whip as you shot his advancements out of the air - bang, bang, bang.
Bullseye.
Nathan finally looks at Bucky then, an icy gaze with stormy blue eyes - enough to scare a cat - not a super soldier.
“You find that funny?” He barks.
Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, grins as he says, “yeah actually, I did.”
As expected, Nathan storms out after paying - men like him have worse bark than bite - and Bucky was well equipped to deal with both. Especially when it came to you.
You sigh, shoulders slumped and you continue to clean. Bucky wonders how often you deal with assholes like that - everyday by the sounds of things. He couldn’t blame a man for trying, you were the most beautiful girl Bucky had ever seen, and he’d been alive for over a century.
“So you’re not interested in dating?” Bucky earns a smile from you, a small chuckle in your throat that still sounds defeated.
You work your arm in circles, counter spotless as you say, “I’m holding out for someone special.”
“Do I know him?” Bucky asks.
“You know him pretty well,” you blush.
—
When he finds out John Walker is Captain America - he goes to you.
He shouldn’t. It’s 3am but he doesn’t know where else to go, saunters the streets and he lands at your door; rapping his knuckles on the wood. Heart on his sleeve, tears brushing his eyes because how could they replace him?
How could they ever replace Steve?
His best friend. His one tie to another life. The only man that deserved the title of Captain America - not some jumped up military man, brainwashed by governments who tell him he’s doing the ‘right thing.’ To see that shield on another man’s arm?
That fucking hurt.
You’re confused when you open the door, groomed by sleep and you’re even prettier when you’re not done up - messy hair, sleep hazed eyes.
“Your neighbour let me in I-“
You move to let him inside, not needing the explanation and Bucky knew he came to the right place. His one solace, his salvation - you.
“Are you okay Bucky?” You ask him and he breaks down.
You hold him as he cries, rub his back with tender hands; his rock against a moving tide. The ocean tried to wash him away but he clung onto you, and his head stayed above water.
He fills in the spots you’ve missed. The parts of his life he wanted to share but was worried they would scare you off. Holy fuck - he wasn’t joking when he said he was 106.
The metal arm mesmerises you. You turn his palm in your hand with a - “I thought you said you had poor circulation?”
You make him laugh. Brew him tea and listen to his queries and you do a better job than Raynor ever could because he just needed someone to hear him, to understand him.
The dark fog lifts with your head on his shoulder, his hand combing through your hair and he apologises for getting you out of your bed. You tell him to shut up.
Nothing else matters when he’s here with you. These fleeting moments where he thinks he could do life like this, a normal life, with you - the girl from the cafe that stopped his heart when he first saw you. You chase away the dark, cocoon him in this blissful period of you and him - that’s all that mattered.
“I’m off tomorrow,” you announce. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thank you doll,” he replies.
You take his hand, lead him to your room and it takes him by surprise because it’s a fucking mess and that’s unlike you. You scratch the nape of your neck with a giggle, apologising but he doesn’t know what for.
He sleeps with you tangled around him, the warmth of your body rocking him to a deep slumber; the smell of your hair like a wet finger to a match on his nerves.
Yeah - he could do life like this.
—
You’re the one who kisses him for the first time.
There’s a picnic basket - homemade sandwiches and fresh cream buns on a soft patchwork blanket. The sun pounds on your skin, spot of butter on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. You giggle and it lights a fire in his stomach that licks its way through his insides.
You’re so close.
Your lips are soft, your smell intoxicating and he needs to remind himself he’s in a fucking park, but it’s hard not to let himself be completely consumed by you.
Bit late for that pal.
There’s a soft hum in your chest that sends signals straight to his mind, makes him light headed and hazy as he strokes a hand across your cheek.
For the first time he feels like a boy. He’s back in Brooklyn and if you’d been alive a hundred years ago he would’ve asked you to marry him because that’s how deep he’d drowned in you. Like a body of water, you flowed in waves. You pulled him into your current until all he could think of was you.
You giggle because he must look starstruck - blushed cheeks and blown out eyes, lips slightly parted because wow - you amazed him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Bucky says.
“Why didn’t you?” You quirk your head.
“Been out of the game doll,” he chuckles. “Not good with hints.”
“If I said I liked you would that make it easier?” Your eyes sparkle.
“Let’s go back to your apartment.”
You laugh.
—
You’re in his lap, legs spilling across his thighs as you straddle him and Bucky forgets how to breathe.
His hands are everywhere - your hair, your face, up your shirt. Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, but they sit even better on your chest - perked to attention and fuck - they didn’t make them like you in the 40’s.
Maybe you were the reason he survived. All the pain and torture to reach this moment with you. His girl.
You make work of his belt, slip out his cock into your hand before spitting on it. Bucky groans, lets his fingers mess the wetness beneath your panties before you slide onto him with a whine. You move with ease, up and down - Bucky feels like he’s dreaming; mind clouded with lust and all he could feel was you.
“Fuck,” you say when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside you and he makes a point of rutting up into you to reach it over and over again because he won’t last long. Not with you.
He throws his head back, blows out a breath as he feels the heat starting in his toes. He holds you hip with his metal arm, pounding into you relentless when he feels your legs grow weak and you did so well for him.
You were so good for him.
You fall forward as your pussy squeezes his girth, head on his shoulder and he’s chasing his high before yours is even finished.
You kiss him lovingly, dropping beside him and he pulls a blanket over you. Bucky kisses the top of your head, the sounds of heavy breathing and rapid heart rate battering against his eardrums.
His mind is blank.
“That was…” you drift off.
“Fucking incredible,” he finishes.
—
He brings you roses on your birthday.
Walked miles around town to find the best of the best because you deserve nothing less and he knows that.
He spots you through the window, cleaning a table in the back corner and he has to stop to watch you in this candid moment. He couldn’t believe you would pick him. The fucked up soldier with the fucked up past.
I’m James Buchanan Barnes and I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.
You look up when he walks into the cafe, not shy as you walk towards him, kissing him softly.
“Happy birthday doll.”
You thank him, holding the roses like a new born child and he notices Nathan scowling in the corner as you prepare them in a vase.
“Thought you weren’t into dating?” Nathan spits at you.
You smile at him, before glancing at Bucky with a smirk.
