Sebastian Stan (Bucky Barnes), Joseph Quinn (Eddie Munson), Tom Hiddleston (Loki), Glen Powell (Hangman) & (Tyler Owens), Miles Teller (Rooster), & Lewis Pullman (Bob)
AU Summary: Bucky is no longer the Winter Soldier. He's something more. He's a husband, and he's going to be a father. While his past is still there, it won't define him. He'll put down his roots with his family and live the best life possible.
AU Warnings: Domesticated life, established relationship, pregnancy, smut, feels, slight angst, more warnings to come.
A/N: We deserve a life with Bucky, okay? I hope you lovelies enjoy this AU! Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
when I think about bucky barnes and what happened to him, I gotta lay down for a few minutes. because what the fuck do you mean he was captured, experimented on, freed, captured again, tortured, brainwashed, tortured even more, and then finally freed after decades of doing things he never decided for himself? and somehow he survived it all. and now he can smile again and laugh and cry and experience love and give love in return and make good choices, bad choices, any choice whatsoever. because, despite all the odds, he made it.
A/N: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles / Divider by @firefly-graphics
Drabbles for each item on “the list” will be linked throughout the story.
You are staring in the open cabinet door trying to decide what snack you want when you feel one warm and one cool hand encircle your waist. Bucky’s body presses into you from behind and you lean your head to one side giving him access. His lips dance over your neck and you feel him lifting your skirt up to grab a handful of your backside.
“Can I have you right here, is that okay, doll?” Bucky murmurs in your ear.
“Bucky, you could pull me into a broom closet during one of Tony’s parties and I’d gladly spread my legs for you.” You giggle, rubbing yourself back against him.
“Doll, you can’t say something like that, it’ll be over before we started!” Bucky chuckles.
Now I'm thinking of cook!Bucky dragging waitress!reader outside and fucking you against the wall after a long shift to blow off some steam.
Doesn't bother covering your mouth because he hopes anyone lingering nearby hears what he's doing to you. Loves how desperate you are for his cock. Loves that he'll be dripping out of you later.
Summary: Bucky isn't a flirt. He's a tease. A menace. And he's everywhere.
Word Count: Over 2.6k
Warnings: Flirting, pet name (sweetheart), teasing, tension, sexual chemistry, breeding mention, swearing, humor, slight feels, confessions of sorts, Bucky Barnes (he's forward and a warning, okay?)
A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, and it turned into a rambling, but I hope you lovelies like it anyway! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
It starts in the kitchen.
You walk in to find Bucky in mid-stretch, your jaw dropping like it just discovered the force of gravity. His shirt is missing, his sweatpants hung low. The handsome bastard flexes, legitimately flexes, when he reaches for something on the top shelf. Don’t ask what the color or content of the object in his hand is because you have no idea. And he just looks at you with a knowing smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
That was new.
He doesn't say it like it's a joke. Doesn't toss the endearment out casually. He says it like it means something. And you aren't sure what to do with that.
“You’re talking to me?” you ask, looking around. You, the newest member of the team. The one who had to earn his trust.
“Who else would I be talking to?” he asks in return, tossing the object between his hands and drawing attention to how long and thick his fingers are.
“Yeah, but… Sweetheart?”
“Yeah. That's what you are. Sweet,” he says like it’s obvious. “And you have a heart.”
You blink. Is the grump flirting with you? To be fair, it isn't fair to think of him as a grump. After everything he went through, he has the right to feel jaded, over it, however he wants to feel.
And it isn't like he was grumpy when you moved into the tower. He was… curious. Watchful. Almost like a cat trying to assess if you were a threat or not. Didn't stop you from being nice to him, and he was never rude in return while he warmed up to you. But he was never like this.
Until now.
“Would you prefer I call you something else?” He brushes by when you don’t respond, deliberately getting in your space. He’s huge, and you nearly tremble from the attention he’s giving you. “If not, I’ll just keep calling you sweetheart… sweetheart,” he adds right in your ear before leaving the room.
Your heart pounds. You have to brace yourself against the counter. Did you imagine that? Did he get hit with some weird pollen, or did you wake up in an alternate universe?
Sweetheart.
The word lingers in the air, thick and sweet, like his presence did. He doesn't call Yelena or Ava by any terms of endearment. He’s polite with them. Friendly now and then. Not that soft or intimate.
So, why you?
And you can't stop thinking about the way he used to watch you from across the room, silent and still. How his blue eyes would follow you like he was just to figure out a puzzle he didn't know if he wanted to finish. Now he brushes past you like he put the last piece in place.
Bob walks in and gives you a small nod and a shy smile. “Morning.”
You calm your racing heart. “Bucky called me ‘sweetheart',” you blurt out.
“Oh.” He’s silent for a moment before his smile widens. “Well, he did finally say you earned your spot here.”
You nod, smiling to yourself. He did say that, and it felt good. There was trust and respect now when he looked at you. “Still doesn't explain why he called me that.”
Or why he was preening like a peacock in his half-naked glory.
“Maybe he was being nice,” Bob muses, but there's happiness in his eyes that you don't see often.
Maybe he is. It’s harmless. Or maybe he’s just messing with you. Then again, maybe he isn't.
It escalates from there.
Bucky and Alexei are chatting after a mission when you walk by and give them a nod. The handsome super soldier waves you over with a bit of mischief in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow when he stands up and slowly unzips his leather jacket. Your throat goes dry and you’d swear the show is just for you, if not for Alexei sitting close by.
You don’t back up when he tosses the jacket away and gets in your personal space bubble, your thighs pressing together. Removing a single garment shouldn’t be as sexy as he made it out to be. It’s not fair.
“What’s up?” you ask, your voice high.
“We were talking about undercover missions.” He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, letting you feel his hard body through his black clothes. “We’d make a good couple for one, right?” he asks Alexei.
“The best couple!” The Red Guardian shouts it so loud you wince. “You two? So good together. Beautiful babies in your future.”
Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Beautiful babies?” you repeat very slowly.
“Yes! A beautiful new generation!”
“What do you think?” You dare to sneak a look at Bucky when his grip tightens, his eyes dark. “You wanna practice making babies?” he asks so seriously that you sputter.
Because how does he go from casually stretching shirtless to asking you that?
He wants to practice “breeding” you? He wants to take you to bed? He wants-
John chooses that exact moment to make his presence known, complaining about one of the reports he has to do. It effectively ends the conversation and puts a sour look back on Bucky’s face when he lets you go. Your brain tries to catch up when you leave, feeling his eyes on you until you’re out of sight. You don't even remember why you’re going to the hall to begin with since all you can think of is him.
“What the hell?” you utter.
What is happening?
Bucky starts leaving blankets in every room so you don’t get cold, and they smell just like his cologne. He has snacks and water for you, too, so you don’t forget to eat or drink when you get wrapped up in tasks. No one else looks out for you like that.
He’s suddenly everywhere, too. Leaning in doorframes that you need to pass through, making sure to touch you when you walk by. Standing too close when you’re cooking something in the kitchen, letting his warmth envelope you. Yelena and Ava exchange looks and subtle smiles whenever he hovers.
“You going to taste test her cuisine?” Ava asks.
“I’d like to taste test something of yours,” he says low enough for you to hear, touching your waist when you inhale. He wants to taste you, too? “I’m happy to test anything she wants,” he tells Ava.
“I’ll bet you are,” Yelena mutters.
And he insists on sitting beside you, always. Debriefings, on the jet, everywhere. He tosses John out of a spot just so he can sit next to you. He turns his chair or body toward you, making sure you know he's paying attention whether you're speaking or not. And he hangs on your every word to the point where you squirm under his heated gaze.
The man seriously went from a cat who wasn’t sure if he could trust you to claiming you as his person.
“You know,” he begins, licking his lips, “I could listen to you read the phone book, and I’d never get bored.”
“Do… Do those even exist anymore?” you ask because you don't know what else to say.
His eyes crinkle when he laughs, and he places a hand on your arm, like he has to touch you. “You're funny, sweetheart.”
Warmth blooms in your chest, and you don't know what to do. It's not just the nickname and the teasing. It's the way he doesn’t break, appearing cool and confident. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re anchoring him to the present, like every word that comes out of your mouth is a lifeline.
And the hand on your arm, gentle and grounding but creating sparks like static under your skin. He doesn't touch most people. Not casually. Not like this. But he touches you.
You glance at his hand and back up at him. “You’re looking at me like I'm a game you're trying to win.”
“You’re not a game.” He tilts his head. “But I do feel like I'm winning when you're close by.”
It doesn't end there.
He starts lifting things that don’t need lifting. With one hand. Your chair instead of sliding it across the room. Your desk when you decide to move it to another corner. And you. Yeah, you. He tosses you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, chuckling as you shriek and protest.
“What?” he asks with amusement when you squirm. “Thought you needed help getting to the gym.”
Oh, the gym. You aren’t sure what kind of sounds he made before you showed up, but his grunts and groans when he lifts weights are nothing short of pornographic when you’re close by. And he doesn't look at his reflection when he exercises, barely breaking a sweat. Oh, no. He looks right at you.
And it doesn't go unnoticed by you that the others aren't there when you and Bucky exercise, which wasn’t the case when you first showed up.
“I can go for hours,” he casually states one day, and you almost trip over your own feet. “Can help you with your stretches, too… so you feel it nice and deep.”
You just about short-circuit. “Nice and deep, huh?”
“Nice. And. Deep.”
Sparring with him ends with you wet and frustrated. There is no reason for his hips to press against yours, letting you feel that he really is big all over. No explanation for why he pins your arms above your head and looks at you like he wants to devour you when you pant beneath him. And why the hell does he always smirk and leave you laying there wanting more?
It’s because Bucky Barnes is a fucking tease.
A fucking menace.
“I should shower.” He brushes his ridiculously gorgeous hair back and smirks. “You know, you could shower with me and save some water.”
Your legs almost give out. “Is that the only reason why you want me there? To save on a precious bill that you don't even pay?”
You want to hear him say the reason.
His eyes sweep over you. “Oh, I think you know why, sweetheart,” he answers, leaving you hot and bothered while he gets his bag. Like the fucking tease he is. “Maybe we can practice making those babies.”
Tease. Menace. Fucker.
“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face!” you call after him.
“I’ve had a brick to the face before. Don't recommend it!” he calls back.
You huff and lay out on the mat, high and dry. You laugh a little. What is he doing to you? What are you to him?
And tonight, the team is once again making themselves sparse while he sits beside you on the couch in the common room, his massive thigh pressed against yours, his arm casually tossed behind you like he owns the space and you. And, well, maybe he does. Maybe you want him to.
“Did you realize we’re wearing the same shade of blue today?” You glance at his shirt and then yours. “We’re in sync. A perfect fit.”
In sync, but he hadn't kissed you. A perfect fit, but he hadn't asked you out. This man was put here to test your resolve.
“What?” he asks when you shift toward him, his arm tightening around you.
“You drive me crazy, Bucky Barnes,” you finally say, narrowing your eyes at him.
He raises an eyebrow. “I drive you crazy? I’m just existing,” he replies, feigning innocence. “And right now, you’re staring at me.”
Maybe you are. Maybe you’re always staring. Because he makes you look. Because he started all this. And he better finish it.
“Don't you dare act innocent when you know what you're doing,” you hiss when he smiles. “Calling me ‘sweetheart’ and marching around shirtless like a harlot and the showing off with your muscles-”
“You noticed my muscles?”
“Talking about making babies with me.”
“Alexei made the first comment about that, but our babies would be adorable,” he says, and your heart swells.
“And the blankets and the snacks?” you question.
“As much as I want to be the one to keep you warm, I thought it might be weird if I held you all the time, so I left you blankets. And you need to eat and stay hydrated. I need you to take care of yourself while also letting me take care of you” he answers.
“You got me there.” It’s enough to make you swoon. He has to be an amazing dom. “But what about the dirty noises you make when you exercise and-”
“If you think that's dirty, you should hear me when I-”
You put a hand over his mouth, your cheeks hot. “And you talk about me staring at you, but you always stare at me.”
“Because you're pretty. You're so fucking pretty,” he whispers when your hand drops, bringing his hand to your cheek. “And you’re so smart. That's a reason I love listening to you.”
“Even if I just read the phone book?” you question.
“Even then,” he promises, his thumb moving along your skin. “And you're so capable. That’s a reason I love sparring with you.”
You giggle. “That's a reason?”
“That, and it’s hot as hell when you're underneath me,” he answers truthfully, making you feel like you're about to catch on fire. “But most importantly.” He takes a breath. “I trust you.”
Your eyes burn. You know he does, but hearing him say it reinforces it. “I trust you, too,” you whisper.
He chuckles, soft and low. “I'm so out of practice when it comes to wooing a dame. I’m not who I was before, but I’m somehow okay with that.”
You melt. “I think you’re great just as you are,” you tell him, making him softly smile. You’re happy that he’s okay with himself. He has every right to be. “So, you're trying to woo me? At the very least, you were certainly trying to get my attention.”
It hits you that maybe all of this is his version of a confession. Not grand gestures. Just… proximity. Attention. Flirting. Affection. Openings offered for you to follow him or maybe meet him halfway.
He nods.
“And the team knows?” you ask.
Another nod. “Yeah.” For the first time he almost looks sheepish. “We’ll have their support if we move forward.”
It means the world that they want him to be happy. Well, both of you. “Is that what you want? To move forward together?” you ask above a whisper, almost like you’ll jinx it if you say it too loud.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he breathes, slowly leaning in. Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds. This is it. He’s finally going to kiss you.
And you move back before his lips touch yours.
“Wooing involves flowers. I think I deserve them,” you tell him, ducking out of his grasp and watching as his jaw drops. “Then maybe we can talk about moving forward.”
He recovers quickly, and you see a flash of respect in his eyes. “You do,” he agrees, reaching for your hand before you can get up and walk away. “Can I take you out tomorrow night? Please? I’ll get you flowers.”
You want to do a happy dance because he finally asked, and you wonder if the team took bets on when this would happen. “Only if you wear those gray sweatpants,” you smirk.
He smirks back at you. “Knew you liked those,” he says, his forehead crinkling. “What will you wear?”
“I’ll surprise you.”
And for once, you’ll tease him.
Aww. I wonder what the date will be. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Pairing: Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader
Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human.
Word Count: Over 3.6k
Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, swearing, possessive behavior, slight fluff, slight angst, mentions of violence, blood, and death, some world building (is that a warning?), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).
A/N: @buckysdollforlife suggested vampire mob!Bucky to me after sharing a photo. With the encouragement of @jobean12-blog and @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , I ran with it and created THIS! Thanks to @dreamlessinparis and @sgt-seabass for listening and spitballing, along with @sweeterthanthis who also provided me with a delicious prompt near the end (we'll see it in the next part). Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!
Staring out the window at the city lights, you wondered how many were blissfully unaware of those who roamed in the shadows. They should consider themselves lucky. Peace existed between humans and supernatural creatures, but for a price. Clans and packs around the world required payment to keep the peace. Tomorrow, the Barnes clan will come to collect.
The leader, James, affectionately nicknamed Bucky, didn’t ask for money or power. He had more than enough to survive long after most would leave this world. There was only one thing he demanded to continue protecting the eastern territory: you.
While clans and packs flourished, there had to be balance. Humanity and light needed to exist. Your father came from a powerful line with their own set of gifts and he often acted as a mediator between the families.
He expected that someone would eventually lay claim to you, as much as he tried to shield you from his associates.
Special in your own way thanks to your blood.
"Be thankful it's the Barnes family."
You did consider yourself somewhat lucky. Your mom explained becoming a vampire was an honor and you would still be you at your core after the ceremony. While the marriage appeared to be transactional with Bucky gaining the use of your gifts, your husband-to-be did love you.
You would know if he didn't.
"Your family will still thrive while you're in my care."
"And I'll be bound to you forever, James."
"Since we're in love and have an eternity awaiting us, I think it's time you call me Bucky."
A girl could do worse than Bucky Barnes.
You closed the curtain after a minute. Between the guards outside of your door and across the street keeping an eye on the building, you knew that you were safe for the night. Your phone got your attention as you crossed the room, recognizing the ringtone. "Hey, Bucky."
"You should be asleep, darling."
His face shimmered in your mind as the rich timbre of his voice filled your ears. Glacier-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw peppered with stubble to match his lush, dark brown hair. He trimmed it recently, but it was still long enough to sweep back.
Masculine. Attractive. Beautiful.
Everything most would expect from a vampire.
"Then why did you call me?" you asked, sitting on the bed.
He chuckled. "Because I hoped you'd be awake. You rushed off after the rehearsal and I wanted to check on you. I think everyone was a bit worried."
You sighed, letting your mental walls down long enough for your family to sense that you were okay. You hadn't meant to leave so abruptly, but you couldn't stay. The rehearsal reminded you that you'd no longer be human after tonight. Instead, your body would no longer age while your loved ones would grow old and pass on.
Your parents. Your little brother. In a way, your wedding would be the beginning of letting them go.
Peace always comes with a price.
"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry any of you. I'll apologize to my family tomorrow."
Your dad insisted, no matter what, that you ate breakfast as a family. It would be your last meal with them. You would have to appreciate every bite and flavor of your favorite foods.
"Are you having second thoughts?" Bucky asked.
"No," you whispered. You wouldn't do that to him or your family. "Just wondering if you'll get sick of me after a century or if it'll only take a decade."
"I won't get sick of you. Ever."
He spoke the truth.
"Forever is a long time," you said, wiping an unexpected tear from the corner of your eye.
"It is. Is it selfish that I don't want to spend it alone?"
"No. I think it's only natural that you want someone to share it with after everything," you said.
Bucky had been through enough horrors to last a lifetime. Being the last of his bloodline after the slaughter of his family, he managed to rebuild his clan from dust and rise up in the ranks. It wasn't enough, as those in power often found. He craved companionship to chase the demons away.
A mate.
"Are you having second thoughts?" you asked. "You could have chosen Dolores as your bride or someone from another clan."
Some vampires had multiple partners, but Bucky wasn't one of them. His love didn't waver or wander. He devoted himself to you and would continue to do so in marriage.
"I don't want Dolores or another bride," he told you, not hiding the slight anger in his voice that you dared suggest that he would want anyone besides you.
"I just know some aren't happy that you chose a human as your mate."
You weren't naive. Just because Bucky planned to turn you didn't mean all of the pure blood clans liked the idea of a human becoming one of them. Or that the Rogers clan offered to protect your dad's territory, too. In their eyes, you were weak. Even with your gifts.
No one would dare make an attempt on your life on your wedding day at the risk of starting a war, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try later. That was only the vampires. The wolves were a different story.
Loving Bucky is easy, but that didn't mean the road ahead would always be smooth.
"You and I are happy. That's what matters. I will keep you safe," he said, leaving no room to argue.
"I know you will. Turning me will make me stronger, too, so we'll keep each other safe. Remember that," you reminded him.
"Like you'd let me forget," he said fondly. "I saw your protective streak the moment we met and I knew I wanted to share forever with you. Do you remember that day?"
"I do. You planned to kill my dad."
You remembered that day well.
You stood outside your father’s office door once you pushed past the guards, ignoring their warnings that he was in an important meeting. They knew better than to argue with you and didn’t sense the danger lurking feet away. They should have. If your dad wasn’t careful, this conversation would be his last. You couldn’t let that happen.
"It's out of respect for you that I came here alone today, but you're trying my patience," a deep voice spoke to your father.
You shook your head, telling yourself not to let the hypnotic tone distract you.
"I have no information for you, James. I'm sorry."
You gasped. There wasn't a soul who didn't know who James Barnes was. Though he was a close associate of your father, he never laid eyes on you. Your dad didn't let any of his associates see you.
"Alexander Pierce was killed after meeting with you and you received a large portion of his shares. And then you don't show when we call an emergency council session. The same session where an assassin tried to take Steve and I out with wooden bullets."
Steve Rogers, best friend to James. Another powerful vampire and name most feared. He was kind to your father from what you heard and a man of honor.
"Alexander wasn't a good man and I didn't want to do business with him, but I didn't kill him or have him killed. His money means nothing to me. And I had nothing to do with the attack on you or Steve. Why would I do such a thing?”
“My men haven't found evidence against anyone else. And in all the time I've known you, you haven't missed a meeting. Ever."
It was your fault he missed the meeting.
"Your clan has been generous to my businesses for years," your dad reminded him. "Believe me when I say I’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by going against you and Steve."
“I want to believe you, I do, but I have to take action. You understand."
You stiffened before you yanked the door open and rushed inside. “Don’t you dare touch him.”
“Where the hell are the guards?" your dad asked, his eyes wide as he stood up from his desk chair. "You shouldn't be here. Get out. Now!"
He was never afraid.
The man across from him slowly rose to his feet. With his tall, broad build, he could’ve been mistaken for a wolf. Even with his back toward you, you sensed his power. You shivered when he turned his head toward you, his eyes the coldest you had ever seen.
How could someone carry death in a stare?
“You must be the daughter.”
The dark, melodic voice threatened to bring you to your knees. You had spoken to vampires before, but none had ever affected you like this. “I am. And you must be James Barnes. Your reputation precedes you."
His gaze swept over you as you did the same to him. His elegant black suit looked tailored to perfection. Not a single hair was out of place. You had to admit he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Vampires had no right to be so pretty.
And this vampire wanted you.
“I am. And I can see why your father refused to bring you to meetings or let us meet. The photos I've seen of you are beautiful, but they don't do you any justice.”
Blood rushed to your cheeks. Men said whatever they could to get in your pants, but this man believed you were a vision of beauty. You couldn’t let that distract you.
“I’m the reason he missed the meeting.”
"What are you doing?" your dad asked in your mind. "We agreed not to say anything."
"It's the only way."
You didn’t see James move as you blinked, refusing to let him intimidate you when he stood in front of you and gripped your chin with a cold hand. “You smell good.”
“James, please," your dad begged, holding his hand out as the cabinet across the room flew open. He kept a range of weapons to use against various creatures if necessary. "Don't hurt my daughter."
“It’s okay, dad. He won't,” you said, which was enough to make your dad lower his hand before he could summon a weapon.
"You sure about that?" James asked.
"If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done that already," you said as your eyes locked with his. "And if you do, you won't get the answers you're looking for."
"I'm listening," he said, brushing a finger over your neck.
“My dad didn't put a hit out on anyone. I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen the day of the meeting. Really bad. I begged him to stay home," you explained.
"You're psychic?” he guessed as he loosened his grip. “I’m told your entire family has gifts.”
It was no secret that your father and mother possessed psychic abilities, like their ancestors had for many generations. Vampires had a tough time compelling you unlike regular humans. It made your bloodline special. A blessing or a curse depending on who you spoke to.
"Not exactly. More like claircognizant. I can't see the future, but I just know things without any tangible evidence."
"That's convenient," James said.
"I can also sense feelings, like if someone is lying or has bad intentions. My instincts aren't wrong. They never have been,” you explained, nodding to your dad. “You had every intention of killing him before I walked in because you thought he betrayed you and your friend. He didn’t. Listen to my heart beat if you think I’m lying.”
The steady rhythm told him you were telling the truth.
"If you can sense my intentions, what do you think I want to do to you?"
"Everything," you whispered. "And you know my dad didn't do anything. You're just looking for someone to take your rage out on."
James raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “I’m sorry I suspected your father. He's a good man, but I've been burned in the past by people I thought were allies. You’ll have to understand that trust isn’t easy for me," he explained as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, not caring that your dad was watching. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth. "So you just knew he shouldn't go to the meeting."
"I did."
James hummed, sparing your dad a glance. "If these abilities of hers are that good, why have I not heard anything about them until now?"
"Because she's my daughter," he said, stepping around the desk when the vampire turned his attention back to you. "She isn't yours to use."
"We'll see about that." The flash of fangs when James smiled didn't frighten you. "What else can you do?"
"Have you heard of personal illusion?"
"Tell me more, darling."
"I was only going to kill your father if he set me up. I happen to like him," Bucky reminded you, making you blink the memory away. He wouldn't have been able to let a hit on him go unpunished. Your dad would've done the same. "Did you realize the danger you put yourself in by revealing to me what you could do?"
"Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a lecture about it later," you said, picturing Bucky smiling and shaking his head on the other end of the line. "But, thankfully, my dad didn't hold a grudge against you and I trusted you."
"Even when I suggested you sit in on my next deal to sniff out the rat? You still weren't suspicious of me?"
"Even then," you smiled. "I knew you needed answers, but you also wanted me around because I intrigued you."
"You still do."
Your dad didn't like the idea at first. As a telekinetic with limited telepathic ability, he admitted his gifts likely wouldn't find the culprit for Bucky. Not if he wanted it done quickly. You had a much better chance.
"Keep my daughter safe."
"You have my word."
Bucky instructed you to stay close to him, which meant he had you on his lap the moment he took a seat. A portion of the men wanted to fuck you, assuming you were a whore when Bucky didn't introduce you by name, and their intentions slightly overwhelmed you as they leered. Not that it took much of a push. They saw what you wanted them to see.
Steve Rogers was the only other one there who knew who you really were.
"Stroke their egos, darling. They like that."
You stayed strong and played dumb, the way you were told to. Laughed at a joke here and stroked Bucky's hair there. You wondered if you played the part too well when you wiggled your hips in the vampire's lap, but you couldn't help your attraction to him.
Especially since he was a heartbeat away from taking you on the table.
"Don't start what you can't finish," he warned you against your neck. "Business first."
You knew the moment Bucky brought up Alexander's death and the unsuccessful assassination of him and Steve that the leader of the Rumlow clan, Brock, was to blame. It would be discovered later that he double crossed Pierce and set up the hit in order to claim more territories. He was furious that the attempt failed, but cleaned up his tracks enough to go undetected by the others. Even Bucky hadn't known.
Brock would have taken you for the night and drained you dry if he had the chance.
When you excused yourself, unable to hold the illusion of yourself you created for much longer, you winked and smiled playfully at the men. As you passed Brock's chair, you bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Bucky locked eyes with you as you pulled the door shut behind you.
He dubbed it the "Kiss of Death".
Because anyone who fucked with him wasn't going to leave in one piece.
"That was the first night we made love," Bucky said, his voice moving along your skin as if he were there.
You pressed your thighs together, but it didn't give you any relief. His voice alone puts you on the edge of bliss. "Would you call it 'making love'?"
"I fucked you and I made love to you."
You waited in Bucky's suite for hours after the meeting, which gave you a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It was devoid of anything personal, a strange mix of luxury and comfort. The only thing that gave away who the place belonged to was the family crest above the fireplace.
A beautiful, lonely room.
You passed the time reading on the chaise lounge before the double doors flew open. Bucky's eyes glowed an unnatural blue as he walked in, his hair disarrayed and clothes covered in blood. Brock's blood. You felt the battle within him to claim you as his own or let you go on your way. You owed him no loyalty, yet you helped him.
And you asked for nothing in return.
"Leave or I won't stop myself."
You stood up and faced him, wordlessly baring your neck. He wouldn't claim you without speaking to your parents, but the beast inside him raged. You were willing to satisfy him for the night.
It was only the beginning.
"Never tasted anything as delicious as you. I nearly lost control."
"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing full well he dismissed any blood mistresses he had after he met you.
"Only to the girl I love," he whispered.
You touched your neck, knowing by heart where he bit you the first time. Buried deep inside your wet walls, he sank his fangs into your neck and took enough blood to satisfy his craving. Every cell in your body hummed with pleasure as he drank and left you dizzy and aching when he finished.
"Can you feel how much I love you?"
"I can," you whispered.
You felt it in every glance, touch, kiss. Each whispered word against your ears, lips, and skin. He showered affection upon every inch of you until no place was left untouched.
His love for you only grew when he asked for your hand in marriage after a few months.
Once he spoke with your father and assured the protection of your family and territory, he agreed. Your little brother actually hugged Bucky when he heard the news and asked him to always be good to you. You may be his big sister, but he still felt the need to protect you. Bucky promised he would always take care of you.
"You love me and my blood was so good, you put a ring on it," you teased.
Bucky burst out laughing, the sound bringing a smile to your face. Hardly anyone made him laugh. "Yes, darling, you're just that good."
You held your hand up to look at the ring on your finger. The large, teardrop ruby flashed in the faint light. He chose it because it reminded him of blood and the promise you made to him.
The tiniest shackle to bind people together, but it wasn't heavy or a burden.
"And if I'm that good, I'll have you knocked up during our honeymoon."
"Bucky!" you smiled in spite of yourself, knowing your parents secretly wanted grandchildren.
"What? With our bloodlines, our child might be stronger than both of us."
"Not might. Our child will be stronger than us if we have one," you said.
Another reason why someone would want you dead or taken away from Bucky.
"You said we'd keep each other safe. We'll protect our child, too."
"Why don't we concentrate on finding Steve a mate first and then kids?" you suggested.
"We can do both."
"I thought I needed to sleep," you smiled at his stubbornness.
"I'm giving you something to think about so you have good dreams. A beautiful wedding, blissful honeymoon, and bright future," he said.
You knew you'd dream of him tonight.
"Thank you, Bucky. I think I can sleep now."
"Good. Rest, my love. You need it."
You shivered at the underlying promise as you hung up. He was right. You needed to rest. If you let your thoughts consume you, you wouldn't get any sleep. Bucky didn't need a grouchy bride.
Your phone dinged before you could set it down, seeing a message from the devil himself.
"If you're reading this, you aren't sleeping. Bad girl."
You laughed as you typed back to him. "You did that on purpose."
"I may have. Since I have your attention…"
Oh, the three dots. This'll be good.
"Tomorrow, on our wedding day, I'm going to recite my vows twice."
Your brows furrowed as you saw him typing more. Why would he recite them twice? To make the words sink in?
"Once at the altar. Once again in the bedroom."
Oh.
"With my tongue."
OH.
"On your pussy."
Fuck.
"One letter at a time."
Fuck. Oh, fuck. No. I need to sleep. I don't need that image in my mind.
"You'll know in your soul that you're truly mine."
You tried to think of a coherent or witty response, but only one thing came to mind.
"I love you, Bucky Barnes."
You set your phone down before you could see if he typed a response back. If he could make your knees weak, you'd do the same to him. Nothing made him weaker than your love.
It also made him stronger.
Touching the empty spot beside you, you wished Bucky was there. Maybe he would surprise you and sneak in. If only to kiss your forehead and remind you that you were in this together. Because after tomorrow, there was no going back. You would belong to James Buchanan Barnes.
Forever.
We'll see our new couple again in future fic Down to Sleep. We may also get an alpha for another reader. Love and thanks! ❤️
Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.
Word Count: Over 2.3k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight use of knife, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Fic #7 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Newlywed Mob!Bucky won the poll.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
A different side of Bucky came out when the leaves began to change. Subtle, but different. It wasn't noticeable to most since he showed people what he wanted them to see. It was a skill he perfected over the years, almost as if he wore a mask to hide his true self. What you saw, however, was ice in his eyes, the same that no doubt ran through his veins. Something weighed on his heart and mind.
You were determined to get to the bottom of it.
As his partner, it wasn't just your job to chase his demons away, but a need to protect him from whatever haunted or hunted him. You wanted to soothe him and let him know he wasn't alone. You knew if the roles were reversed that he'd eliminate anything or anyone that removed the light from your eyes. To have someone that loved you that much was still a bit of a dream.
How thin is the line between love and obsession?
“I can hear you thinking from here, Printsessa,” Bucky said. He knew you were watching him as he sat in his study, even as he focused on something else in front of him. He didn’t turn his back to anyone, except for you. He knew you would never put a knife in it. That was how much faith and trust he had in you. “Don’t want to join me?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you replied, walking further into the room so you could get a better look at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up, giving you a moment to admire his metal left arm and the tattoos on the right. He commanded the room without standing.
“It's never an interruption if it's you,” he reminded you.
He twirled one of his signature knives between his fingers before he went back to work. The love of your life was an expert in many weapons, but had an affinity for knives. While it didn’t surprise you to find the head of the Bratva with a weapon in hand, you hadn’t expected to see a pumpkin in front of him. “Pumpkin carving? You’re just full of surprises.”
He snorted a little. “I like that I can surprise you.”
Watching him start to carve a pattern in the pumpkin with ease, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hand moving with care, was like a dance. He led with confidence and control. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
“Do you know why some people carve pumpkins?”
You finally took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting a hand on his thigh. His muscles relaxed and you wondered what had him so tense. “I think most do it today to decorate, but some do it to ward off evil spirits,” you said, moving your hand in slow, circular motions as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Is someone haunting you? Do I need to scare them away?”
He tilted his head, a glimmer of pride flickering in his blue eyes as he smiled. “You’d scare them away? You don't think I can handle them myself?”
“I have no doubt you could handle them on your own,” you said with complete certainty. He more than earned his Winter Soldier nickname. “But if something or someone is after you, I want to help.”
He studied you as he lowered his knife and covered your hand with his, holding it like a lifeline. Some protected and fought for him because it was their sense of duty. Others did so out of loyalty to his bloodline. You did it out of love.
Because you did love him.
“No one is after me. At least not today,” he assured you, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But thank you.”
“Then why are you holding my hand like you can't let go?”
The look he gave you melted your heart a bit. “Because I don't want to let you go.”
It was almost as if he was worried you'd bolt if he released you. The only time you'd run would be when you wanted him to chase you. Or maybe he imagined someone would try to take you away from him. He'd never let anyone get you. “What's on your mind then?”
And how do I help?
“My family,” he admitted, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My mom used to carve pumpkins. I haven't done it in years.”
You didn’t speak for a moment. His family wasn’t a topic he discussed much, so you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Did she teach you how?”
A faint smile appeared and fell just as quickly. “She did,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I thought it was strange at first, you know? Encouraging me to pull out the insides and leave it hollow. And to carve a face? It almost seemed like a form of torture. Probably why dad demanded I use a decent knife.”
He didn’t hide the hint of anger when he mentioned his dad. You turned your hand over so your palm connected with his, letting him squeeze it to ground him. “But that’s not why your mom did it. She was teaching you to do something beautiful instead of harmful.”
“That's exactly what she did,” he agreed, leaning forward to pick up the knife. “It also encouraged my critical thinking skills. You can’t just dive in without a plan. You have to think it through.”
Bucky sometimes teased that his best friend, Steve, was the man with a plan. The truth was, they both were. Each brilliant in their own way, there was a reason they stayed in power and why so many feared them.
“And I felt proud when she displayed them. Valued,” he continued, his voice a little choked up before he cleared his throat. “It was a tradition I didn't realize I missed.”
Maybe the nostalgia was the reason his eyes looked a bit colder in the fall. “Sounds like a beautiful memory,” you said.
“I hadn’t formed beautiful memories in years until you came along,” he said, his lips skimming your temple. “But you're my family now.”
Tears didn't fill your eyes, but you felt them in your throat. The man was ruthless when the occasion called for it. Terrifying in his rage. You were the lucky one who would never be on the receiving end of it. Only his love. His need. But you could take his rage if you had to.
Like his old memories, you could make it something beautiful.
“You're my family, too,” you told him. You hadn't expected that of Bucky when you met and part of you wanted to stay away from the dangerous world he helped rule, but how could you not want a life with him?
His gaze softened, which warmed your heart. “And I would feel very proud if you helped me finish this,” he said, moving further back against the cushion and opening his legs for you to sit between them. “Maybe it can be the start of our own tradition.”
Your heart raced as you stood up and took a seat on the edge of the cushion, exhaling as he pressed himself against you. “I’m not good at this,” you said, closing your hand around the handle as he placed the knife in it. You didn’t want to ruin the intricate design he already worked so hard on.
His warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “We’ll do it together.”
“Guide me?” You asked.
“Of course, Printsessa.”
At the root of everything, Bucky was a man who didn’t want to walk this earth alone. Power and money meant nothing if he didn’t have someone to share himself with. It would’ve left him as hollow as the pumpkins he worried about carving as a child. And if helping him finish this one would make him happy, you’d do just that.
Time passed as he helped you cut into the pumpkin and urged you to follow the stencil, the smell from the pumpkin seeds off to the side bringing a pleasant layer to Bucky's woodsy cologne. There was something intimate about him having you close, his hand directing where yours should go. Like when he taught you how to properly shoot a gun. He said you didn't need his help, but he gave it to you all the same.
Your hold almost slipped when his metal hand snaked between your thighs, softly rubbing your pussy through your underwear. It barely covered your mound, just like your flimsy nightgown. “How am I supposed to concentrate?” you asked, arching as he firmly pressed his palm against you.
“You asked me to guide you. I will,” he said, the light scratch from his scruff making goosebumps rise on your skin.
“You're distracting me,” you whispered, trying to keep your breathing nice and steady.
“Would distracting you be so bad?” he whispered back close to your ear. “We're almost done.”
His fingers gently played with your clit through the fabric, drawing a breathy sigh from you as you squirmed. His almost feathery touch made you all the more determined to finish up, especially since he refused to let you close your thighs to get any friction. You were on the edge of release and he was relentless in loving you.
But he didn't let you come.
“Good girl,” he praised once you finished carving, stopping his fingers as you set the knife down. You bit back a whimper as the rising pleasure faded. “It's beautiful.”
“It is,” you breathed. Instead of a smiling face you saw on so many pumpkins around Halloween, he designed a merged sun and moon. “It's us, isn't it?”
“It is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he gestured for you to hand him another knife. “You're my sun.”
“That makes you my moon,” you said, stiffening when you felt the blade at your shoulder. “What are you-”
Bucky sliced through your strap and kissed your bare skin. “I'm starting a new tradition,” he said, doing the same to the other side before he slid your nightgown down. He dragged the knife across your exposed breasts, taking great care not to cut you. “Carve a pumpkin. Cut your clothes off. Make you come.”
“You mean tease my pussy without getting me off,” you said without much bite.
He chuckled, a deep rumble as he set the knife aside. “I always get you off. I’m going to make you feel so good, Solynshko.”
With gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, his large hand slid up to fondle your breasts. The rough pads of his fingers teased your nipples as you gasped and reached back to grasp his hair. He moaned as you twisted your fingers in the strands, his hand sliding down to your wet heat again. Thankfully, he didn't tease you through the fabric this time. His fingers dipped into your underwear and you knew he was eager to feel your arousal.
Everything in your core tightened when he caressed your folds. You met his gaze as you tilted your head back, wanting him to see your desperation as his gaze darkened. “Make me come, please.”
“People beg me for money. Power. Mercy,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling your cheek as he sank a finger in, your walls contracting around him. “Not you. It's only pleasure you ask for.”
“It's you I'm begging for,” you admitted in a whisper. Even when you pushed or questioned why he wanted you of all people, you gave him your love. You yielded only to him and you would never bend your will for anyone else. To deny him would be to deny yourself.
He brushed his lips along your jaw and dipped another finger in as you shuddered. “You begging for me to fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? Make you ruin this couch before I give you my cock?”
Your head fell back against his shoulder as you bit your lip. “Yes, I am. Ruin me. Love me,” you moaned.
“I love you more than anything,” he promised as your eyes slipped shut, dots of white dancing behind your eyelids.
He gripped your jaw to turn your head back to him, seeking out your lips with his. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, his ice meeting your fire and creating an explosion of need within both of you. Your body hummed as you felt the peak of your impending climax, ready for him to tear you apart.
“Come for me, Printsessa,” he demanded against your lips.
Your pussy clamped around his fingers as you lost yourself to the daze of your orgasm, shamelessly crying out his name. Your juices dripped down his fingers as he helped you ride it out, praising you in your ear and guiding you the way he did with the carving. He was telling the truth before: He always got you off.
“Are you okay?” you asked once you caught your breath, the question you meant to ask the moment you entered his study. He seemed more at ease, though lust now clouded his eyes.
“I'm okay,” he said in a rough voice, slowly pulling his fingers out as you sagged against him. He pulled you closer, enveloping you in his strong arms. It was safe. It was home. “But I think you need my cock.”
“I think I need it, too,” you smiled once you caught your breath, knowing his cock likely twitched in his pants as he tasted you on his fingers. “And you owe me a new nightgown.”
“I ordered you a new one before you came in here,” he said, his expression smug as you turned your head to stare at him. “Now sit on my cock. We have a long night ahead of us.”
“Bossy Pakhan,” you teased.
But if giving you orgasms, ruining your clothes, and making new memories brought the light back in his eyes, you wouldn't complain.
Oh, to belong to him. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡
Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.
Word Count: Almost 500
Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, kidnapping, dark Avengers, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 5! Character: Bucky Barnes. Length: 200-500 words. Prompt: "Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me." ❤️ @krirebr , thank you for chatting me about this and everyone should check out What You Can Do For Your Country. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Heroes were meant to make the world a better place. They exemplified courage, resilience, and determination while serving as living embodiments of values and ideals that many admired. They offered protection and safety. And you were lucky enough to live in a time with The Avengers, the self-proclaimed world's mightiest heroes who saved the Earth time and time again.
But no one liked to talk about the burden placed on their shoulders. Or that they had their own needs outside of the fight. So what did the heroes take for their reward? Whatever they wanted.
Bucky Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, only wanted one thing.
You.
“Look at me,” he ordered above a whisper.
You brushed a tear away as you lifted your gaze and moved back to the corner of your bed to cower. The cell Tony made was comfortable enough, but the massive size and aura of Bucky made it seem small and dark. It would never be your home. They took you from it the moment the Soldier decided he wanted you as his personal doll. You were told it was an honor and a privilege.
The same thing they told the occupants in the other cells, each one a reward chosen by the various team members.
“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. You managed to break free from your cell earlier that day, but the relief was temporary since you were quickly caught and dragged back. “I just want to go home, Sir. Please.”
Bucky observed you as he walked toward the bed, his icy blue eyes not leaving your trembling form for a second. “This place is only temporary. Steve and I will move you and his girl into our new home once it's ready,” he told you, brushing his metal hand along your cheek as you tried not to flinch. “Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”
“Yes,” you answered, trying to block out the memory.
You fought him. Well, you tried to. He quickly proved why he was a hero in the physical sense when he overpowered you. He then proved why he was your villain when he split you open with his cock.
“Yet you still tried to run,” he said, his voice laced with hurt and anger. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me.”
A shiver of fear and anticipation ran down your spine as he straightened up and unbuckled his belt. You knew what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The worst part deep down was how much you liked him owning you. That was why you had to get away.
But he would never let you go.
“So let me remind you how good it feels when I'm inside you,” he said, tugging the sheet away when you tried to cover yourself. “And let's see you try and run from me by the time I'm done with you.”
He can keep me. That's fine! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
