Omg old AF. Not really, but when I was half my age I was legal to drink. I like smutty smut and porny porn. F but into and will read anything. Will try most things once! If you’re under 18 please DNI. New blog, I’ve got another one but my family popped up there, recognised a thing and I FREAKED AND MADE THIS NEW BLOG.
warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!
a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo
bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist
Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.
When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.
You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.
So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.
The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.
It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?
***
After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.
Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.
You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.
With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.
You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.
“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.
He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.
“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”
You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.
The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.
Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.
And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.
While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.
Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.
***
“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.
The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.
You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”
Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.
“That’s my shirt,” he states.
You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.
“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.
Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.
“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”
You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”
“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”
“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”
Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.
To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.
***
Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.
On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.
But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.
They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.
Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.
Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.
It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.
His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.
Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.
You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.
It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.
“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.
You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.
The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.
He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.
You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.
It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.
He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.
Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.
“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.
He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.
“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.
“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”
“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.
At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.
It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.
“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.
“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.
You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.
Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.
“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.
You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.
“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.
You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.
With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.
“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.
Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.
Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.
“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.
It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.
This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.
Messy Christmas: The Perfect Hallmark Christmas Movie Fanfiction
(so sugarsweet/crazy you might want to rethink what you’ve done with your time)
(aka a pretty realistic summary of all Hallmark movies as a whole)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, Ransom Drysdale x reader
Summary: imagine all Hallmark movies but then with Bucky and a little bit of Ransom...I seriously don't know how to summarize this. Just sit back read, and let the magic of Christmas flow through you.
Word count: 1680
No Warnings 👍🏻 (technically cheating, because; Hallmark🤷🏻♀️.) Also confusing options because I had to capture most tropes in one.
Notes: this was written last Christmas in fun and is therefore silly and not meant to be taken serious in any way. It was caused by a Hallmark challenge, and this just popped out. ... And then I also made that picture above🤦♀️👍🏻
Only for the most hardened readers... You might regret this but you are an experience richer... Not a good experience but let's face it, can it get worse then this? It can only go up from here. 🫣
🌲☃️🍪🎄🫂🕯️❄️
You had forgotten how small the town was.
You had left 10 years ago for a reason, you needed to get out of there. Spread your wings and have opportunities you'd never get there. Sure, you loved your family, but you could do that at a distance, only a phone call away. Besides, they weren't going anywhere, no one was down here. Except you.
Sometimes you felt a little guilty, it wasn't your fault you were amazingly talented at business, unlike the rest of your town, but you realized they just missed you, because you were a really nice person. No one in your new town thought so, because everyone else was also busy with business, and not busy with people, but luckily you had met the second love of your life, Ransom.
Ransom and you had met at his business, when he tried to make a deal with yours, and it was love at third date. He was a little boring at times, with the routine he kept at all times, but his hair and clothing sense was spectacular! You really fell for *insert haircut* and his perfect white teeth. In return he liked your work ethic and your cozy but clean apartment that didn't have any personal decorations.
It all went perfectly, he had even proposed, just before the phone rang and informed you of an emergency in your old town. It was a shock to find out your dad got sick/your family tree business was failing/cookies needed to be baked for charity/the Christmas Parade needed to be handled, and only you had the skills to pull it off/you got fired at your job and had to go home to lick your wounds/your parents lied to trick you to come back/you needed something from someone else to succeed more at your current business. There was barely time to say yes to your now fiance, before you booked your ticket and went straight to the airport.
The trip only seemed to be about 10 minutes, which was lucky because you needed to be home soon, but you had just enough time to reminisce about your past. All the faces of old friends popped up inside your brain like a weird montage reminding you of all the things you had tried to forget.
Then you arrived home.
Nothing changed, including your bedroom. Everyone had remembered what an amazing person you were and was very glad to see you back, almost like they'd been stuck in time waiting for your arrival. This made you feel warmer than ever, a feeling you had forgotten all these years, but you also reminded yourself you had business to return to.
Oh and a fiancee. But you hadn't told your family yet, surely there was time for that later? You weren't even sure if you were going to invite everyone to the wedding. They would probably not fit in with the rest of the well dressed people, so they probably didn't even want to come.
After walking through town - which took about 30 minutes and you basically met everyone right away who started bringing up old random, but cute, memories with you, causing you to smile so much it hurt the corners of your mouth and made you look slightly insane - you finally bumped into your old flame, Bucky.
Like literally bumped into him. It was weird because he hadn't been there a second before, but you might've been distracted by warm cozy feelings.
It was awkward at first, but also because all your old feelings caused you to have more feelings now! And you shouldn't because you were engaged, but no one knew that.
So when Bucky invited you for coffee/baking with his niece/helping with a show for the school/ice skating, you accepted.
Just like old friends!
Who used to fuck a lot. But just because you've seen him naked a lot, didn't mean you couldn't see him as a person, so you would see him exactly like that. A person with a brain and interests and feelings…just like the feelings you had for each other when you were younger…before you left town to grow up.
During the date, you kept gazing into his beautiful eyes, and smiling every time he said something funny. And you were genuinely happy, because it was so easy to be around Bucky, even if his hair was stylishly disheveled, and he wore a very simple sweater and boots that showed he wasn't paying 6 months paychecks for business clothes, but he was so kind and giving.
It seemed all his time was spent helping others! He was such a good person. You’d forgotten what it was like to not only be a nice person, but a giving person, and he had this sense of community you only ever had in this old town of yours.
And then you tripped and he caught you/you and him were left alone after family dinner he was also invited to - even if it was your parents house - and they were suddenly gone/you went outside to say goodbye while snow was falling around you, and he kissed you!
And you kissed back because you suddenly realized all those old feelings had come back.
And just when you were going to make a confession (perhaps about your fiance, but maybe just confess your eternal feelings; you didn't know), Ransom showed up.
It was so very awkward. Not even because of the kiss, but because he clearly didn't fit into the family. Suddenly he was rude and uncaring, said things you had also said before, but suddenly sounded worse coming from his mouth! And he seemed to look down on your family, perhaps because you had as well all these years, but now you were here and just been kissed by a hunk, this behavior was unacceptable!
You told him off, but he didn't get it. Even if you were very clear, suddenly his intelligence had left him and he had forgotten his manners too!
And then Bucky stepped in telling him off when Ransom was kind of slightly raising his voice - because you had been acting weird and weren't answering his questions what was going on - it wasn't like you were in danger since Ransom kept a good distance, and had never been violent and just seemed a little frustrated. But he figured out instantly what was going on. So he asked to talk to you privately.
And you two went alone, 2 meters away, so Bucky could listen in on the conversation, but also didn't seem to hear anything that was being said. He could see your expressions of heartache clearly though. The tears in your eyes, and eventually the hugging you did with your fiance.
He left with a very sad expression on his face while he walked home, where he soon arrived even if the distance should’ve been farther, and then sat alone in the living room, staring at a picture from when you were much younger and clearly happy.
But meanwhile you were looking for him because your fiance had just broken up with you, since he didn't know how to handle the fact you had feelings in general, but especially for Bucky. He left without saying goodbye to your parents, even if he only just arrived 2 hours before.
You found Bucky easily, because there had only been 3 settings where he could be. And when you arrived, your nose was so red from the cold, but in a cute way, not with snot running down your face and watery eyes. But in a glowing beautiful kind of way?
And Bucky was hesitant, because you had just broken his heart all over again, but your hopeful small smile gave him hope anyway.
You admitted to having been engaged, but you were not engaged anymore because you loved Bucky!
Then you were worried. What if he didn't love you back?
He had kissed you, but people did that all the time! Like when your boss’s assistant kissed him when he made a good deal. That didn't mean anything either, because he was married, so…
But then Bucky stared into your eyes from really uncomfortably close, and told you he had always loved you, since you were kids.
You wondered for a moment if he had even been with anyone else, with how intense he was speaking. If he had always only loved you, and was kind of hoping you came back all this time…jeez he was going to pop as soon as you grabbed him!
But your thoughts halted when he kissed you again. He was a very good kisser, and there was a lot of kissing and did you hear music somewhere??
Next thing you knew it was a year later and you and bucky were at your parents for another Christmas. Hadn't you just celebrated Christmas? Bucky was again kissing you, and then finished with a very sweet kiss to your ringed hand, showing you had gotten married. And your kid looked just like Bucky. You just hoped it was going to have the same caring helping personally their father had! And his baking skills. And his handyman skills. And his ice-skating skills. And his Theatre skills. And his Christmas trees selling skills.. And his- your mother put a cookie into your mouth unexpectedly, causing you to focus on nibbling on it, without ever really eating it.
And you were very happy with your love. You'd given up your business to start a bakery/run for mayor/start the same business in this town/working for prosperity for the whole town/be a family woman.
With Bucky by your side you'd never want for anything, and now you always kept smiling this wide smile, a smile that hadn't yet reached your eyes.
18+ Imagine Bucky sees these and his cock twitches in his jeans. His mind is filled with how pretty his sweet doll would look with these on her perfect nipples. Those little pink hearts would look so utterly cute and slutty, the perfect piece of jewelry for him to admire while he slips his cock between your breasts. He can't wait for you to squeeze your boobs together, looking up at him with those doe eyes, giving his tip kitten licks. He's ready to make a mess all over them, watching his cum cover his doll, dripping off those adorable silver hearts. He obviously has to take a picture of this debauchery, something for him to admire when he was away from her, his pet name just for you in little hearts, his milky spend glistening everywhere.
He'll be more than happy to clean you up right after, those pouty lips sealing around your nipples, groaning at his taste that he marked you with. He tugs them between his teeth making you squeak, his tongue giving each of your nipples a flick.
Omg okay so I’ve that this filthy thot for so damn long!
So you and Bucky were together for a few years but there was a messy breakup. Sort of lovers to enemies. Anyway after the breakup you decide to get your nipples pierced because why not. Fast forward a year and you and Bucky end up trapped someplace waiting for extraction and you argue and the next thing you’re on each other kissing and grabbing and start stripping each other and then- then he spots the piercings. And he stops dead. What the fuck are these? These are my tits? He goes feral. Basically accusing you of keeping there from him for a year. He can’t leave them alone. Can’t stop touching. Kissing. Slapping his tip against them. Needless to say you’re back together because he’s been pining after you for a year.
IDK I just HAD to get that out because it’s been bouncing around my brain.
Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU
gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader
Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.
Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, comfort/angst, fluff, wound description, healing, cuddling, religious punishment mentioned, threats, cults, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, bucky barnes needs a hug, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: woo!! finally the second part to this section!! comfort and fluff as promised w a little bit of angst. you guys are not ready for what i have planned for future chapters woohoo!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.
taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love
main masterlist | series masterlist
When the coal boy finally came around, you were going to strangle him.
Despite its tiny size, your flat seemed to be leaking heat by the second. The last of your coal had long burnt out, leaving you shivering and elbow-deep in a dirty, lukewarm water bucket. Bucky had faded in and out of consciousness as you tended to him. A poultice had been made and lathered across his marred back, bandages holding the paste in place.
The gangster had moaned and groaned, half-consumed by fever as you cleaned the filth from his skin and hair. A satisfied grumble escaped his swollen lips while you massaged soap into the dirty locks, your fingers carefully working from root to end. His eyes would flutter open, bruised and bloodshot, watching you work with silent awe.
With some effort, you had roused the man long enough to get him to clamber into your small, rickety bed. Sweat glistened along his bare chest, the fever leaving him restless as he writhed between your sheets. Between laying a cool cloth along his brow, you worked on getting his clothes cleaned and hung up to dry. You knew you had none spare that would fit the hulking size of the gangster, so he would have to survive in his undershorts until his clothes dried.
You fished his stained but clean shirt from the bucket, wringing out the fabric. In the dim light cast by your candles, you could make out your breath as the depth of the night fully descended upon you.
You were filthy, tired, and cold. With a sniff, you rubbed the back of your hand across your forehead. The work had kept you warm for a short time, but now your sweat and blood were running cold. Across the room, Bucky had settled for the moment. He lay on his belly, bandaged back exposed to the skies as his breath rose and fell raggedly.
A small flash of guilt churned in your stomach upon fully looking at the damage you had caused. It would take days for the burning sensation and agonising pains to pass. The skin would never be the same, molten and twisted in appearance.
Maybe you should have denied him. He could have never truly known what he was asking for when he came to you for help.
You cast aside the thoughts with a frown.
Your knees were stiff, the muscle and bone aching as you unlocked them from your kneeling position. Hands shaking and goosebumps raised across your skin, you quickly darted across the room. Your nightgown was filthy with gods knows what from helping the gangster.
You did not check if the man had roused as you pulled it from your head in one swift motion. You did not particularly care if he gazed upon your nakedness. The man had been inside of you, with his fingers, his cock—your nipples peaked, maybe not just from the cold.
You cast your gaze back once you had slipped on a new and clean nightgown. Your eyes followed along the curve of his bicep, the solid muscle along his shoulders that disappeared beneath the bandages. Most of all, you looked at his face, still oddly beautiful despite the cuts and bruising. He looked vulnerable, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him.
His eyes were closed, thick, dark lashes brushed across his cheeks. His brows were drawn slightly, the ghost of a wince crossing his features.
Maybe it was the lack of clothes that was the most jarring. Even while he was inside you, he had remained clothed, as if he always had a piece of armour upon him. As if even at the height of pleasure, a thought lingered, worrying about his safety. Always had eyes in the back of his head, always watching and waiting for an enemy to strike. Did his sleeping form before you mean he trusted you? Or was he simply too injured to fight the exhaustion that clung to his very soul?
Outside, a frigid wind howled as it tore through the winding streets of The Warrens. You took that as your cue to stop lingering, shivering, and feeling pathetic.
You clambered into the small bed beside him, curling up by his side. Heat radiated off him, his sticky, hot flesh pressing against your own cool skin.
Bucky’s fever would be enough to keep the both of you warm.
—
By the time you awoke, Bucky’s fever had broken.
The gangster still lay on his stomach, but his head now rested just below your sternum. His tousled hair spilled between the valley of your breasts, an arm lazily draped across your middle. Hesitantly, you tilted your head, raising your own arm to gently hook it around the back of his head. Your fingers wound through his strands of hair, nails carefully scratching along his scalp.
You leaned your head back, a short sigh escaping your nose as you stared at the ceiling. Bucky let out a low hum, still half-asleep and bleary, responding to your touch. The vocalization sent vibrations across your skin, deep into your bones.
In a moment of selfishness, you savoured the quiet and the sensation of his weight upon you. Your digits explored deeper, splaying down his neck as you gently massaged. He hummed beneath you again, a small moan tugging from his lips as your fingertips moved lower. You dared to work the rhythm across the tops of his shoulders, ghosting along the edges of the bandages where the skin was untouched.
“Bucky,” you whispered. The gangster jerked beneath you as if startled that your touch wasn’t a dream. His head tilted, and he inhaled a sharp breath, wincing as the movement tensed his back muscles.
His eyes cracked open, vivid blue against the bloodshot whites. As he looked up at you, his entire being seemed to grow rigid. You tried not to take it personally.
“How’s your back?” you questioned, reluctantly withdrawing your hand from his hair.
Bucky contemplated your words, tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. He winced as he reached the split, the tender flesh not quite scabbed over. He spoke up, voice croaky and strained. “Bad.”
“I’ll make you somethin’ for the pain.”
Bucky didn’t reply, only making a pained noise as you slid out from under him, prying yourself from his touch. His limbs were frozen in place, muscles rigid as if every small movement brought agony. You got the sense that he did not remember clambering into your bed, nor you joining him.
You shuddered from the cold, wrapping your arms around your waist. Your thin nightgown did little to ward off the chill, and you could see your breath with each exhale. You felt the gangster’s gaze follow your every movement as you tip-toed across the cold hardwood floors to your dresser. You quickly pulled out a pair of socks and an ugly, oversized knitted sweater to throw over your shivering frame.
“I'll need to go out soon and hunt down the coal boy,” you explained as you moved to your desk. “I’ll get word to Steve or Sam too.”
You gathered some fresh herbs from your woven basket, sorting through the leafy greens and selecting what would be most effective. You weren’t particularly knowledgeable about potions or botany, but you knew enough to understand what worked best for the task at hand.
“No,” Bucky’s gravelly voice spoke up from behind you. You paused your movements, casting your gaze back to meet his.
“No?” you questioned, rubbing your chilly hands together with a disapproving frown.
“I don’t need Steve or Sam comin’ here with their… pity,” he explained. It was the most words he had spoken since he awoke, slightly muffled due to his face being half-pressed into the sheets.
You stalked forward, lowering yourself to your knees next to the bed. Eye-to-eye with Bucky, you sighed slowly, running a hand through his hair once more. His eyes closed, satisfied like a purring cat. “It’ll take a few days for your back to heal proper. I can help you here… I just worry they’ll go huntin’ for you if they don’t know you’re fine.”
He contemplated your words for a beat, lids fluttering as he reluctantly met your gaze.
“They can’t come here. They can’t see me like this.”
A strange sadness clawed at your gut at his confession. A man so feared that he could not be vulnerable in front of even those closest to him. The weight of expectation was heavy, and the fear of mutiny was even heavier.
“They won’t be able to get past my wards,” you reassured him, your fingertips ghosting across one of the gashes on his face. “I’ll just tell them you’re here, and you don’t want to be disturbed.”
He huffed out a pained laugh. “They’re gonna think I’m fuckin’ you, doll.”
You tried to keep a straight face. “Well, they’re not far off, now are they?”
—
Now that Bucky’s fever was broken, the both of you were rather grateful for a roaring fire.
Your tasks outside the bubble of comfort that was your flat went smoothly and briskly. You had slipped the coal boy an extra coin to ensure your coal was delivered to your flat efficiently and had remained tight-lipped about your frustration with the lad. One look at his sickly, pale mother, and you realized your order had slipped his mind with good reason.
Locating a Smog boy had gone easier than the first task. You slipped one of Bucky’s boys a note, instructing that it be delivered to Steve or Sam. Bucky had managed to scribble out some nonsense, explaining where he was while keeping out the details of his near-death experience. He hadn’t gone into depth but indicated he was worried Steve and Sam might go after The Penance Boys themselves if enlightened. Bucky had rather sternly muttered that he couldn’t afford rash or stupid decisions in such situations.
From the glance, you managed to get at the note, it read like Bucky’s absence was due to him being lost between your legs rather than a brush with death. You could already hear the sneering voices of the gangsters the next time you saw them.
Returning home, you found Bucky continuing to slip in and out of consciousness. During the hours he was awake, you made sure to give him tonics for the pain and broth to fight off hunger.
Little words were exchanged between you. The gangster only blinked at you in surprise as you settled some spare blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. As easy as it would be to clamber into bed next to Bucky, you no longer had the excuse of the cold. With him being more sentient than the night before, you suspected he would be more likely to call out such actions. You could already imagine the flush of embarrassment and the mocking words he would use.
As you arranged the makeshift bed, laying out the blankets and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care, Bucky's confused voice broke the silence, cutting through your thoughts. "What’re you doin’?"
You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his bewildered gaze. His eyes, still heavy with pain and exhaustion, searched your face for answers. "I thought it might be better if I stayed by the fire tonight. Give you more space to rest," you explained, trying to sound nonchalant even as your heart pounded in your chest.
Bucky frowned, his brow furrowing deeply, lines of concern etched into his features. "You don’t need to do that," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, devoid of its usual harshness. "Come here."
His tone held no trace of mockery, only an earnest invitation. You hesitated, unsure of what to make of this sudden shift. The room seemed to hold its breath with you. Slowly, you moved towards the bed, and Bucky shifted, wincing as he rolled onto his tender back. You carefully climbed in beside him, your movements tentative.
Bucky settled his head in your lap, his body sinking into the mattress with a deep, relieved sigh. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, he looked almost peaceful. Your hand instinctively went to his hair. The strands were soft under your fingers, and you ran them through gently, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body.
The moment was fleeting, a mere whisper on the breeze. You pressed your back up against the wall, watching as his brows twitched, eyelids fluttering as the ghost of a scowl crossed his bruised face. You pressed your fingertips to his temples, wishing you could extract whatever thoughts plagued him.
In the quiet, you murmured, "I have my wards up once more. No one’ll disturb you."
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open again, and he met your gaze. There was a wary look in his eye, and with little hesitation, he spoke up. "You have strong wards. You keep everyone out. Don’t you have any visitors?"
You could only assume it was the tonics you were giving him for the pain. The gangster was loose-lipped, practically putty in your hand as you contemplated how best to reply. He sighed again, a sound of contentment, and you marvelled at the transformation. You let your hand travel from his hair to his stubbled jawline, tracing the rough edges tenderly. His skin was warm under your touch.
“No,” you replied simply, gaze cutting away as you looked across the room with a frown. “I don’t have family, ‘least none that I speak to. My parents are dead.”
There was a brief pause as your nails circled his adam’s apple, then dragged back up to his jawline once more. “My mother from sickness. My father… well, he drank himself to death.”
Bucky shuddered beneath your touch. “I take it your father was a cruel man?”
“Yes.”
“He was the one in your memories? At the brothel?” He questioned further, and your frown deepened.
“Yes,” you repeated, surprised he had cared enough to remember. Your mind cast back to his strained reaction to your memories, the way the muscle in his jaw ticked. You wondered if Bucky saw his own demons within you. “The only kind thing my father ever did was…”
You hesitated, sucking in a sharp breath. Your fingers entangled through his hair. Was this a story that needed to be told? You cleared your throat, locking your gaze on the fireplace as you spoke. “My mother was a priestess in a coven or a cult… however you view it. They were terrible people, obsessed with cruel ideas of worship. They believed in sadism and suffering. Sacrifice. They praised those who could withstand torture for hours, believed that when the rapture came those who suffered most would be saved.”
Bucky was silent as you continued your tale. “They believed a witch would be born into their ranks, a witch with unbelievable powers that could raze cities with a single look. She would bring upon this rapture, save them from this place. They were all blinded, of course. The only kind thing my father ever did was get my mother away from that place.”
There was a long pause between the both of you, only broken as you looked down to find him staring up at you with a frown. Your breath caught in your throat. Despite the fogginess in his eyes from the pain tonic, there was a strange clarity in the way he held his gaze.
“I take it your father was much the same, cruel and a drunk,” you dared to muse.
Bucky’s face contorted into a glower, eyes darting away. “I don’t like to speak of my father.”
You noticed how the gangster almost began to cower from your touch, shoulders and neck rigid against your thighs. “Tell me of the others in your family then.”
“Well, there is Becca, my sister. I don’t think you’ve met her.” His tone was surprised, wary even. Even if outwardly he was standoffish, you noticed how his muscles relaxed.
You persisted with your soothing touch. A small feeling of delight thrummed in your chest as you noticed how his eyes rolled back, obviously pleased by your fingertips massaging into his scalp. “No. You’ve mentioned her before. You said she's… sensitive to magic.”
“My mother has this theory that someone, somewhere down the line, was a witch.”
“Magic is known to skip generations. It can manifest in unexpected ways.”
“Yes… well,” He stumbled over his words, a small grunt slipping past his lips as you massaged a particular spot along the base of his skull. “Becca and my mother are very alike. Sometimes too alike. It’s infuriating to deal with them when they have both made up their minds.”
“But you love them regardless?” You asked, the ghost of a smirk playing across your lips.
“I don’t think I’m a man capable of love.” Bucky paused, as if hesitant to confess. “But yes, I do.”
—
In the days that followed, your bedtime ritual continued, leading to slow, comforting mornings where you woke up with your limbs entwined with Bucky's. Each day settled into a steady routine: you prepared food and tonics for the gangster, watching as he slowly regained his strength. You found a strange solace in the rhythm of those days, his presence a constant, grounding force in your otherwise solitary life.
The mornings were a blend of quiet intimacy and simple tasks. The sun’s early light would filter through the fog, casting a soft glow over the port. Bucky’s breathing, once ragged and laboured, had become steady and strong. You would gently untangle yourself from him, careful not to disturb his rest, and begin the morning routine.
Bucky’s recovery was gradual but noticeable. He moved with more ease each day, his strength returning as the bruises faded and the fever’s grip loosened. You found yourself engaging in more conversations, sharing stories over meals, and even exchanging the occasional joke. His laughter, though rare and often accompanied by a wince, was a sound you soon came to miss.
It was not entirely a surprise to wake up alone in your bed one morning. The hollow pit in your chest, however, was undeniable. Though you would not admit it, you clung to the hope that Bucky had merely gone downstairs to wait for you to wake, or perhaps stepped outside for some fresh air. But as you searched your tiny flat, it became painfully clear that he was gone. No words, no note, no messenger—just a cold, empty space where he had been.
You should have come to expect it, yet the absence of any farewell stung more than you cared to acknowledge.
Spring finally rolled around, but the cold persisted, mirroring the chill that had settled within you. On your occasional excursions to the market or to see clients outside your home, you remained bundled up against the lingering frost. The Smog Boys hardly spared you a glance, their eyes always scanning for other threats, and you never caught a glimpse of Bucky weaving through the fog and alleys. His disappearance was a gaping void, a reminder of your isolation.
A flicker of hope would spark each time you had a visitor at your door. Clients, workers, the coal boy… yet not a single Smog Boy. As quickly as you had come to despise the gangster and how he called for your services at any whim, you also found you quickly came to miss those late-night summons.
But the knock at your door this night, the face that greeted you as you swung open the door… it was a face that left a fit of dread in your stomach.
Rebecca Barnes.
You had never met the woman, but with one look you knew. You could recognise those features anywhere. She stood in the doorway with an unyielding, cool confidence. She was a striking figure, tall and lithe, with the same piercing blue eyes as Bucky. Her raven hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, a few rebellious strands framing her sharp features. Over her shoulders, she draped a dark, fur-lined coat, the fabric gleaming softly in the firelight. Much like her brother, it seemed she had appeared from the fog like a wraith, not a speck of ash to be seen across her clothing or hair.
She smiled. Wide. It unsettled you, the way the smile did not quite meet her eyes. “May I come in?”
The woman did not wait for a response, nor did it seem she intended to wait either. She brushed past you without a care, the fibres of her furs tickling your forearm as she passed.
“What’s happened?” You ask, unable to hide the worry in your tone. Becca didn’t involve herself in Smog Boys business, besides some surface showing of her face. Bucky had made sure his sister and mother would never be incriminated in any crimes, and that they were always to be protected.
Becca Barnes did not turn up at anyone's door, not without good reason.
Rebecca placed her purse on your dining table with a deliberate, almost ceremonial motion. Her eyes locked onto yours, unblinking and intense, the calculating gaze of someone who always knew more than they let on. Her lips curved into a thin, tight smile. “My brother.”
Your stomach dropped as if a trapdoor had been opened beneath you.
“Your brother?” you repeated cautiously. You took a hesitant step forward, your hand instinctively reaching to close the front door behind you, as if doing so could keep the impending storm contained within your tiny flat.
Rebecca's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through the dim light of the room. She took a step closer, her movements fluid and predatory. “Do you care for him?”
“What?”
“I said,” Rebecca's voice was low, measured, each word enunciated with chilling precision, “Do you care for him?”
You paused, your body frozen in place. The silence stretched taut between you, a razor-thin wire ready to snap. Rebecca shook her head, a small, almost pitying smile playing on her lips. She let out a soft tut, a sound of mild disappointment.
“I’ll get to the point, shall I?” Her tone was clipped, businesslike, as she stepped forward. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “You’ll stay away from him. You hear me?”
Your brows furrowed, and you took an involuntary step back, confusion and defiance warring within you, trying to make sense of the sudden, stark command. Rebecca’s eyes flashed with impatience. She closed the distance between you, her posture rigid, her movements calculated. She loomed over you, her presence both intimidating and inescapable.
“This would’ve been simpler if you remained one of his whores,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. Her chin lifted. “You already fucked him, so I suppose that’s out of your system. But you’ll stay away from him, witch. There was enough grief with the last one, the traitorous bitch she was. I cannot afford to have another one of you messing’ with family business.”
You opened your mouth to protest, to explain, but the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know what you think has happened between us—”
“Oh, I know what has happened.” She interrupts, her voice brittle like breaking glass. “You’ve somehow infected his mind. It’s the only reason he would’ve come to you when he was injured, that he allowed himself to be a victim of your magic.”
“He asked me for help–” You begin to insist.
“Help?” She barked out a laugh, a harsh sound bubbling from her throat. “How do you call what you did to his back help? Those scars will never heal fully, you’ve ruined him.”
You felt a flush of anger rise in your chest. “He knew I’m not a healer–”
“I know what you did.”
Rebecca’s voice cut through the room, silencing you. The silence that fell between you was thick, suffocating.
“I know what you did to those coppers. I know how they beat Leofric’s son to death in front of you. So you blitzed them out of existence. There were no bodies to recover because you turned them to mist.”
The accusation hung in the air, a dark, undeniable truth. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms.
“You think that’s what I’ll do to Bucky?” you asked, your voice defiant.
“I don’t think, I know it.” Rebecca’s gaze was unwavering, her expression unreadable. “I know your breed, and I warn you that I’ll destroy you if you compromise what my brother has built. What my family has built.”
“Respectfully, you do not know me,” you replied, your voice steady.
“Maybe I don’t,” Rebecca conceded, her tone cold and detached, “but I know a threat when I see one.”
She clicked her tongue as she picked up her purse, the sound sharp and final. “Within the next few days, you’ll receive a message asking you to attend a family meeting. You’ll politely decline. You'll continue working for my family, but you’ll keep your distance.”
You could feel the anger flaring up your throat, hot and fierce. “And what’ll happen if I don’t? What if I tell him what you’ve said today?”
Rebecca’s smile was a chilling, sickly sweet curve of her lips.
“Then I’ll kill you,” she said simply, her voice a soft, deadly whisper. “When you least expect it, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Bucky won’t be wise to any of it. Do you truly think he would believe a witch over his own sister?”
Becca turns, adjusting her coat with a practised flip of her wrist. The heels of her shoes clicked on the hardwood floors as she strutted to the front door. "I do like you, spirit-raiser. We could be friends if you remember your place."
As she walked out the front door, turning to close it behind her, she flashed one last smile. "Just remember, you’re nothing to us."
Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader
Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.
See my Masterlist here
“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.
You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.
He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.
When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”
“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.
When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.
Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”
“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”
You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”
Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.
Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”
You take a deep breath. This is hell. But, you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.
You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.
Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.
You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.
The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.
The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.
“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.
Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.
But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.
He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.
“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.
Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.
You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.
The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.
Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.
Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.
That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.
You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.
Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.
That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.
You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.
“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”
“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.
“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”
“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.
Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.
Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.
Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.
Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.
Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.
The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.
“You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.
“We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”
Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.
As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.
Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.
“It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.
Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.
“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”
Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?
Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.
“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.
“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.
“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.
“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.
“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”
It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?
When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.
When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.
“We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”
A thot. A smutty, slutty, scandalous thot. With Bodyguard Bucky. Possessiveness, size kink, breeding kink, all of it. Now, imagine being the sweet, quiet, beautiful wife of the esteemed John Walker, CEO of Walker Industries. You sit at his table, clapping with the proudest smile on your face as he accepts an award for another successful year. Your husband dedicates all his success to the beautiful woman who has supported him through all the ups and downs, who has been by his side through it all.
You.
You blow a shy kiss in his direction when the cameras pan over to you, giggling at the wink he throws back. The press will have a field day about the most envied couple in the world, so perfect and so in love. As the night nears its end, your husband gives your hand a squeeze from where he sits beside you, leaning over to whisper in your ear.
"Going to have to stop by office darling, one our major investors just called" He kisses your cheek affectionately with an apologetic look on his face but the understanding smile you give him back lets him know you're not the least bit upset.
"Of course, I'll miss you" You reply and take a sip from your champagne, appearing oblivious to the glances that are thrown your way by the others as your husband leaves without you, his secretary following closely behind him.
All the hushed whispers.
Poor woman has no idea.
All the secrets.
Just a pretty thing on his arm, probably doesn't have a clue.
Doesn't have a clue her husband has been carrying on with his secretary late into the nights and all through out his business trips.
Such a shame she's none the wiser. Has no one thought to tell her? Pity she's genuinely so in love with him.
Truly such a shame, wasn't it?
Such a shame your husband had no idea your bodyguard fucked your brains out till he busted balls deep in side you every chance he got.
Bucky doesn't say a word as he leads you out of the venue, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, helping you into the car. As soon as he slipped in beside you, you rolled up the dark partition before slinking onto his lap and slamming your lips against his. Bucky groaned against your lips, his hands finding their way home to grope and spank your ass, guiding your hips to grind down on his erection straining against his black pants.
"Need me to take care of you, huh princess" He murmured against the shell of your ear before going back to lacing his tongue with yours causing a shiver to run down your spine, nipping his pouty lip and grasping onto the lapels of his blazer.
No time was wasted as you straightened yourself out upon entering your home, quickly dismissing the staff to leave for the night, giving you free reign to do as you pleased.
As soon as the house was empty, he tossed you over his shoulder, striding up the stairs and straight to the master bedroom. He dropped you onto your large bed, tearing your dress in half down the middle, letting the material fall away at your feet.
"Fuck this" He grabbed your left hand, tugging off the wedding band you wore for appearances and tossing it carelessly across the room. He took off the silver tog tags that hung around his neck, slipping them over your head and letting his name sit perfectly between your breasts, the sight making him feral.
"Didn't even bother with panties" Bucky licked his lips at the sight of your bare naked body, not even a tiny sliver of lace covering your modesty. "You knew, didn't you"
"Always" You purred, knowing damn well your husband would fuck off to bang his desperate little secretary, unknowingly also giving you the night of your life you so badly craved. You crawled to the middle of the bed, your legs spread while Bucky tossed his blazer and shirt off, his pants and brief's quick to follow.
"Lookit you baby, so naughty, fuckin' your bodyguard in the same bed your husband sleeps in"
You let out a needy whimper while he stayed at the edge of the bed enjoying the view, his hand coming down to wrap around his cock giving himself long, languid strokes.
"James, please" you pleaded with a pout but Bucky just smirked in return, hissing as he swiped his thumb over the wet slit of his cockhead.
"I know prinţesă, I know, let me look at how pretty you are" He cooed, joining you on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his thick shoulders while he let his cock slip between your folds, rolling his hips to hump against your bare cunt. "You're soaked angel, been waiting for this, hm?"
"Wanted you so bad, need you James" Your hips bucked up, chasing the feeling of his fat cock rubbing against you, his swollen cockhead bumping your clit every time he pushed forward. "No teasing, please, missed your cock so bad"
"Shhh, you have me baby, m'right here, yeah?" Bucky kissed away the tears that started to slip down your cheeks, your arousal smearing all over his balls. He guided his dripping cockhead to press against your clit making you cry out, circling his most sensitive parts against yours, "M'right here, feel that angel? Y'feel how wet m'getting for you baby, right on that pretty clit, such a good girl letting me jus' leak all over her slutty little pussy, fuck theres so much precum 'nd m'not even inside you yet"
You'd never felt more empty, clawing at Bucky's back, your pussy fluttering and clenching over the way his silky tip kept tracing circles around your throbbing, sensitive bud. He flicked his cockhead across your clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.
"S'fuckin' tight, sh-shit" Bucky moaned as he started to press into you, sliding all the way home in one swift motion. He stayed still, holding your body close to his while your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, begging for him to do something.
"Move Jamie, please, c'mon, fuck me damn it, I need you, I need- FUCCKK" Your words slurred into sobs as Bucky started to fuck you hard and fast, already too needy with having to get a night alone with you.
"Needed me huh angel? fuckin' needed you too, s'all I think about pretty girl, just me n' you, how-oh fuck- how are you so tight around my cock" Bucky rambled, bringing his knee up to get a deeper angle, his hands coming to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress.
"Missed-fuck-missed you Jamie" You whimpered, your pussy squeezing and sucking his cock back in,
"My baby loves her fat cock, I know, know you're so empty when I can't fill you up sweet girl, you love your bodyguard's big dick don't you" The taunt in his voice only got you off more, your eyes rolling back as he continued to rail you. "You're pussy's choking me so tight, don't think I can hold back tonight princess, don't think I'll be able to pull out"
"Don't" you whispered and something in the air switched, the highly charged sexual tension replaced with something more desperate and needy as you clung onto each other reading closer and closer to your highs.
"Mmph, y'can't say that, gonna wet your bed with my cum prinţesă, you'd like that wouldn't you, my cum covering all your sheets, your pillows smelling like me, letting me fill you up till your belly gets all swollen"
Bucky's voice melted into a whine, his dominance faltering into something needier, quickly shoving the thought away because he knew there was no chance. It would never happen. You'd never be so careless for such an accident to happen.
"Want it Jamie, want it all with you, please, don't-fuck, oh God-don't pull out" Your glassy eyes wet with tears showed no signs of deception but it couldn't be. He searched your gaze and you could see the innocence in his face wishing this were real, the way his body moved with yours, wishing it was just you and him. "St-stopped taking birth control"
Bucky sobbed at your confession, fucking you harder, making the headboard slam against the wall with his powerful thrusts. His hips snapped , shoving his cock all the way into your pussy, his balls growing heavier at the thought of leaving a piece of him inside of your fertile womb.
"you're fuckin' mine, you hear me? Mine. Mine. Mine. Say it!" Bucky grunted, biting your neck making you scream, your back arching off the bed, pressing your chest further against his.
"M'yours, all yours, just' yours" You slurred out, eyes rolling back and your moans turning nearly silent as immense pleasure crept down your spine.
"Gonna put my baby in you, make you mine forever, fuck your husband, your gonna be the mother of my child, just you prinţesă, all you, ALL YOU" Bucky roared against your neck as he shot ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, giving you harsh, sloppy thrusts as he grew more sensitive. He wrapped his arms around your body with his face tucked into your neck, shuddering at the feeling of your soft hands caressing his back, running your fingers through his soft cropped locks.
You hardly noticed him carrying you over to his room down the hall, tucking you into the warm sheets, resting your head on his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"I love you" You murmured, smiling at the empty space on your ring finger and feeling the comforting coolness of his chain around your neck.
One day.
"I love you more, prinţesă" Bucky murmured, meaning every word as you both drifted off to sleep.
You couldn't wait to leave your husband.
a/n: This was meant to be way sluttier and less in the feels so might need to revisit this with a different version
John finding out but not being able to do a damn thing, John watching pregnant us as we make sure we get a very healthy divorce settlement, John watching Bucky take care of us.
John hearing us beg for Bucky in bed night after night…and he can’t do a damn thing about it
Summary: You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice.
Warnings: Language, because I have a foul mouth, explicit smut (unprotected PIV, oral (f&m receiving), fingering), mentions of drug manufacturing/possession/use, little bit 'o' bondage, implied dubcon, implied infidelity, implied abuse of police authority (honestly, read the whole thing through before coming at me for warnings, okay? I promise it'll make sense), bad cop jokes/puns/innuendos. Please let me know if I missed anything.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: Inspired by actual events! And by that, I just mean the part where someone called the cops and told them I was cooking crack in my kitchen. Literally everything else is a figment of my imagination, alas! Special thanks to bestie @jmeelee for suggesting I take that awkward encounter and turn it into something to benefit all of mankind, and for giving me a title. The Cheesecake Factory is going to start forbidding us entry with the way we talk in there.
You put the tea kettle on to boil before sitting down at the kitchen table to start grading your students’ papers. You’d been hoping to get through as many as possible before your husband came home from work, but with the number of corrections you were having to make on these assignments, you’d be lucky if you got a quarter of them done before then. It was disheartening. Distance learning during Covid really hadn’t done the public education system any favors and you felt like you’d been playing catch-up for years now.
When the kettle eventually boiled, you pulled yourself away from your grading to make yourself a cup of tea. You had just settled back down with your steaming mug when you heard an incessant pounding at the front door, startling you. You briefly considered not answering— you weren’t expecting anyone, and besides, who showed up unannounced at someone’s door anymore?
Serial killers, that’s who.
But the knocking continued, relentless and heavy. After a few seconds, you heard a gruff voice call “Police. Open up!”
“What the hell?” you asked yourself, putting down the tea mug and making your way through the living room to the front door.
Peering behind the curtain on the front door window, you could make out the figure of a uniformed officer standing on your front porch. He was illuminated from behind by the streetlight, leaving only his outline visible to you.
Narrowing your eyes in confusion and panic, you turned on the porch light, unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Can I help you, officer?” you asked cautiously.
The man tipped the brim of his hat up, and you were met with a bright pair of blue eyes that glimmered with more than a hint of mischief.
“It’s actually Sergeant, ma’am,” the man said to you as he tipped his hat and offered you a wicked grin. You knew him. Of course you did. Your small town didn’t have much in the way of local law enforcement, and James Barnes, or ‘Bucky,’ as most folks called him, was a specimen to be revered. Ridiculously handsome, tall and broad, he was built entirely of muscle as he towered over you from the doorway. He was a favorite among the local female population, often being specifically requested to provide police presence at PTO functions and Ladies’ Auxiliary events. Despite the gold ring he wore on his left hand, the women of the town were drawn to him like flies to a corpse, much to the frustration of his poor wife.
“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” you amended, with a touch of sarcasm in your voice as you offered him a smirk back.
“Well, ma’am, seems like we got a call reporting suspicious activity at this address,” he drawled, leaning now on your door jam, fingers hooking in his belt loops.
“Here?” you asked, surprise coloring your tone. “Are you being serious with me right now, Bucky?”
“That’s Sergeant Barnes to you, ma’am,” he responded nonchalantly. Oh, so he was playing it like that, then? “Got a tip that someone’s been cooking meth in your kitchen. ‘m here to check it out.”
You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Meth?! That’s a new one!” You’d had some of your students call in pranks on you in the past, but this was an extreme.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid meth is no laughing matter,” the sergeant said in all seriousness. The look in his eyes immediately shut down any trace of humor you felt as you stared back at him. “The manufacture of illegal drugs is a very serious crime. I’d like to come inside and take a look, if you don’t mind.”
You pursed your lips. You remembered something your husband had mentioned discussed with you, and decided you weren’t going to make this easy for him. “Do you have a warrant?” you asked.
Sergeant Barnes sighed heavily and rubbed his dark stubble with the palm of his hand. “Ma’am, I’ve had a long shift. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. Now, either you can let me inside, or you can come down and answer questions at the station. It’s up to you.”
It wasn’t an option, not really. “Come on in, then,” you told him, moving aside so he could enter. He walked through the door, his meaty arm grazing against the side of your breast as he did so, and you involuntarily shuddered at the sensation. You knew he noticed when you caught him smirking at you again.
“Kitchen’s this way,” you murmured, somewhat breathlessly, as you led him back through the house to the room in question. He followed silently behind you, his footfalls heavy and sure.
Once in the kitchen, Sergeant Barnes began looking around. It was obvious you weren’t in the middle of a meth lab. You were a high school English teacher, for god’s sake! You weren’t quite sure what game the sergeant was playing at, but you had no doubt he’d make his intentions known in good time.
After glancing around, he eventually said “Well, I can see there’s no meth setup here. Guess it was a false alarm.” You shot him a glare as if to say no shit, but he walked to the cabinet holding your glassware and opened it. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” He reached in and pulled out a bong and a container of marijuana. “Now, I know next state over might have given the go ahead for this stuff, but in this state, recreational use of the Devil’s Lettuce is still illegal, darlin’. Mighty bad look for a school teacher to have it on hand, don’t ya think?”
You cocked your hip and crossed your arms in front of your chest defiantly. “That’s my husband’s,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “And I’m pretty sure you just conducted an illegal search and seizure there, sarge.”
He put the bong down on the counter with a heavy clink and turned to face you, his face impassive and voice stern. “Now, seems to me someone’s got a problem with authority, darlin’. I don’t appreciate you talkin’ back to an officer of the law like that. Might need to teach you some manners.”
You swallowed thickly, finally having an idea of where the sergeant was going with his little drop-in and felt a frisson run through your body that left you trembling. Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t seen it coming. There’d been talk, after all.
“Now,” he continued as he slowly made his way across the kitchen toward you, “as I see it, we got ourselves two options here. One: you can come down with me to the station and we can book your pretty little ass on possession charges, which is gonna take hours and require a hell of a lotta paperwork.” He was standing directly in front of you now, leaving just inches between your bodies. You sucked in a breath, the nearness of him making you dizzy. “Or two, I can get you off with a warning. Still might take hours, but at least we can both have ourselves a good time. Your choice, darlin.”
You took a step back, pressing yourself against the edge of the counter in an attempt to put some space between you. “I think you mean ‘let’ me off with a warning, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, your words coming out in an exhale.
You gasped as his hand came down to cup you between your legs and gently squeeze your mound through the fabric off your jeans. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I meant what I said, darlin’. But you gotta prove you’re gonna be a good, respectful girl, first, so why don’t you get down on your knees and show me how you obey the law?”
Your eyes widened at his command, unsure how to proceed. Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes was impatient– he took both his hands and put them on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you down until you were kneeling in front of him, the large bulge in his trousers staring you straight in the face.
“Best get to work, darlin,” he growled, brushing your hair away from your face. “It’s not gonna suck itself.”
You couldn’t believe this was actually happening as you slowly brought your shaking hands up to his waist. With trembling fingers, you unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. His massive erection was straining the fabric of his gray boxer-briefs, leaving a dark wet stain where the tip rested against the cloth, evidence of his arousal already making itself known.
Moving as though afraid of spooking a scared animal, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down to just above his knees and setting his cock free to bounce up against his lower stomach.
God, but he was big. If the women in town had any idea that he was packing so much more than just his gun, they’d never give him a moment of peace. You traced a finger along the vein at the base of his member, trailing it up his length to the weeping red tip. Coating yourself in his pre-cum, you used his essence as lubrication as you began working him with your hand.
“Not that this doesn’t feel good, but what did I say about sucking it, darlin’?” Sergeant Barnes asked through a grunt as you pumped him.
“I’ll get to it,” you told him, a hint of irritation in your voice. He had a lot of nerve making demands of you at a time like this.
You felt his hand come and roughly grab you by the chin, jerking your head up to make you look him in the eye. “You got the right to remain silent, Sweetheart. I’m gonna be a gentleman and suggest you use it. Find another purpose for that pretty mouth of yours.” He took his hand away with a wink.
You licked your lips as your eyes took him in. Leaning your head down into him, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the underside of his cock.
“Good girl,” he moaned as your tongue circled his tip. “Keep it up. Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good with that sassy mouth of yours.” You took him into your mouth a little bit at a time, teasing him as one hand worked his base and the other cupped his balls.
You weren't a woman who liked to be told what to do, but the dominance in his voice made you shudder, an involuntary thrill skittering down your spine. He felt intoxicating, dangerous and you had the feeling you were in way over your head.
“Mmm,” he grunted as you swirled your tongue around the swell of his head before deciding to take him in deeper. You relaxed your throat and backed off only when you felt his length bump against it.
"Jesus, darlin', where'd you learn that?" he asked breathlessly. His hands moved to cup your face as you moved rhythmically along his length, setting your own pace. He was blissfully lost in the sensation.
But then, Sergeant Barnes wasn’t one to give up control so easily, either. “Stop teasing,” he huffed out before threading his fingers through your hair and tugging lightly, a clear sign that he wanted more.
You didn’t hesitate to oblige, taking him deep in your mouth until you heard him groan in pleasure above you. His grip on your hair tightened as he took over guiding your movement, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth until he was fucking your face with abandon. The taste of him was overpowering, salty and bitter, making your cheeks flush with heat as you struggled to accommodate his size, tears running down your cheeks and drool pooling from the corners of your mouth.
"I knew you had it in you," he grunted, his voice barely a whisper now as he lost himself in the waves of pleasure you were giving him. You looked up to see his eyes closed tight, his lips parted when ragged breaths escaped his chest that was heaving like a wild beast caught in a trap.
He was close, you could tell from the way his body squirmed and the throbbing of his hardness against your tongue. There was an urgency in his ragged breathing and the racing pulse beneath his skin that echoed through your core. But he wasn’t going to finish yet. Not if Sergeant Barnes had anything to say about it.
A sudden force yanked you back by the hair, tearing your mouth away from him. You let out a surprised yelp, wiping away the excess saliva that clung to your lips.
“Upstairs,” he ordered gruffly, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He tucked himself free of your grasp and rearranged his uniform as he stepped back, giving you space to rise from your knees.
You smiled and nodded, your head hazy with desire as you passed him and led the way to the narrow back staircase tucked into the corner of the kitchen. He followed closely behind, his heavy boots echoing off the wooden floors in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You felt his gaze on your swaying hips with each step you climbed, a soft growl echoing from behind you that sent shivers down your spine.
You led him to your bedroom, a quaint space painted in soft hues with sheer white curtains rustling gently from the light breeze of the warm summer night. The unmade bed serving as a reminder of love you and your husband had made just that morning staring you right in the face.
“‘m afraid I’m gonna have to search you now, Sweetheart. Strip,” he ordered, his voice gruff with desire as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with niceties or romance – this wasn’t about that. This was about raw, primal need.
Your trembling hands reached for the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, revealing the delicate lace bralette underneath. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, encouraging you as you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them daintily.
“Turn around,” he said next, and you complied without question. You heard him suck in a breath behind you as you shimmied out of your underwear, revealing the round shape of your backside to him under the dim light.
“Jesus,” he whispered, the raw desire in his voice making your heart flutter. “This is better than I ever imagined.” He walked up to you, the rough fabric of his uniform trousers brushing against your exposed skin making you whimper. His fingers traced your spine, gliding all the way down to the small of your back, causing goosebumps to break out all over your body. “Now, you remember your traffic laws, don’t ya, darlin’? You remember how stoplights work?”
You nodded, knowing instinctively he was referring to safe words– Green for go, Yellow for slow down, and Red for stop.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Put your hands behind your back.”
You complied and felt the cold metal of his cuffs clink around your wrists, locking them into place. You were now fully at his mercy.
He cupped your buttocks in both hands, kneading them gently while his lips found the nape of your neck. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he left a trail of kisses there. “Color?” he asked inbetween presses of his lips.
“Green, Sergeant,” you hummed. You could feel him growing harder against you, the enormous length of him pressing against your ass making you squeal and squirm in anticipation. His groan echoed in your ears as he held onto you tighter.
“Gonna need ya to spread for me, Sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky. Your heart pounded in your chest as you did what he asked, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart gently until you were open and exposed to him.
He let out a low whistle behind you, his fingers tracing lightly over your intimate folds. "You're soaking wet," he murmured, sounding almost awestruck. You flushed at his words, feeling a fresh wave of desire pulse through your body at his touch.
His fingers suddenly abandoned you, only to return dripping with warm slickness. He wasted no time in teasing your entrance, slipping his finger inside you and drawing out a moan that echoed through the room.
“You like that don’t ya?” he asked, his voice alluringly low as he curled his finger inside of you. You whimpered at the sensation, trying to push back against him for more.
“Patience, Sweetheart," he whispered against your earlobe before nibbling on it lightly. He slid another finger inside you, curling and stretching in a way that had you gasping for breath. "You're so tight," he groaned out, appreciating the way your walls clenched around his digits.
“Please…” you whimpered out, the anticipation making your body shake as you pleaded for more. “Please, Sergeant. I need more.” Your legs were wobbly, and with your arms trapped behind your back, you were finding it hard to keep your balance, but you wanted more of him.
He chuckled darkly at your plea, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb while his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. Each touch was expertly measured, bringing you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, keeping you precariously balanced between pleasure and desperation.
“I’m doing this my way,” he grunted, adding a third finger and increasing his pace. You cried out, your vision blurred as the coil inside you tightened threateningly. You were so close but he wouldn’t let you fall, each moment bringing a new wave of frustration and desire.
Finally unable to take the teasing any longer, he withdrew his fingers leaving you gasping at the sudden loss.
"Get on the bed," Sergeant Barnes ordered, standing tall in front of you; his arousal painfully obvious. “Face down.” You moved to accommodate him, getting on your knees and laying your face down on the mattress, hands still pinned behind your back.
The sound of his utility belt hitting the floor filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as he stripped himself free of his uniform.
You squirmed on the bed, desperate for his touch but unable to see anything with your back to him. The anticipation was unbearable, each passing second feeling like an eternity as you waited for him to resume his ministrations.
He moved behind you again, his bare, warm skin against yours making you whimper in anticipation. "Breathe," he commanded simply, and you did, inhaling a shaky breath before exhaling slowly.
And then without warning he was inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust that had you screaming out, the stinging stretch quickly morphing from painful to something far sweeter. He grunted at the intrusion, pulling back slightly only to thrust back in again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, stopping you from moving too much as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind.
Each thrust had you crying out in wanton pleasure, your body trembling beneath him. "Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered his name like a sacred prayer, the cool metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to brace yourself against his forceful movements.
He didn't slow down, didn't pause, just kept moving inside you with a single-minded focus that had you spiraling. His pace was unrelenting, his stamina seemingly endless. His fingers clutched at your hips in a bruising grip, holding you steady as he continued his merciless assault on your senses.
You felt him shift slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting a spot inside of you that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. “Please…” your plea was cut off by a gasp as he hit that same spot again, driving you closer to the edge.
But he didn’t stop there; instead he leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back as one hand slid underneath your bodies, finding your clit with unerring precision. He started rubbing it in tight circles, adding a whole new layer to your pleasure.
Every new thrust of his hips sent him deeper within you, each stroke of his fingers on your clit became more intense. You were a writhing mess beneath him, completely lost in the ecstasy he was giving you.
"Bucky," you cried out, forgetting to use his title this time, your voice hoarse from screaming, your body trembling on the brink of release. This wasn’t a game anymore.
"I know," he growled in your ear, his voice low and guttural. "I can feel how close you are, doll. Just let go."
And you did. The moment his lips closed around the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you as his own, the coil inside you snapped. Pleasure washed over you in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling cries from deep within you as your orgasm tore through you.
He didn't stop his movements, continuing to thrust into you as you came around him, your cries only fueling his own desire. His fingers tightened on your hips while the other hand continued to work you through your climax, prolonging the exquisite sensation.
His pace became erratic, the rhythm breaking down as he chased his own release. With a final grunt and a whispered curse, he drove deep inside of you, his body tense as he came, filling you with his spend. His guttural moan carried through the room as he rode out his orgasm, each thrust sending little aftershocks through your sensitive body.
His grip on your hips relaxed slowly, his breathing heavy and ragged against the skin of your back. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep inside you, allowing you both to come down from your highs.
Finally, he carefully withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty. He rolled off of you with a sigh, getting up to retrieve the handcuff key from his trouser pocket and releasing you from your bondage.
“Are you okay?” His voice was soft in the silence, as he worked to rub the feeling back into your tender wrists.
You looked up at him through your lashes and nodded, amazed and impressed at his sudden shift from commanding sergeant to tender, caring lover.
“So,” Sergeant Barnes began once he had determined there was no real damage to your wrists, “what time is your husband getting home?” You both burst into laughter as he pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.
“Mmm, probably sooner than we expect,” you teased, leaning up to give him the deep kiss you’d been denied throughout the length of your little game. “That was a lot of fun.”
He chuckled and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “Yeah, it was; we should have done it sooner.” He opened the drawers, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for himself before moving to the closet to grab your robe. “Thank you for that; I really did have a long shift, and that certainly took the edge off. You were amazing, doll.”
“My pleasure, obviously.” You’d been excited and intrigued when Bucky first brought up acting out his fantasy with you, but no amount of discussion could have prepared you for how much you had loved actually doing it. You raised your hands over your head, arching your back in a stretch, laughing as you watched his eyes follow the heave of your breasts as they moved upward, licking his lips. “But meth, Bucky? Really? That rumor gets out, you’re gonna get me fired.”
Bucky hummed as he grabbed some clean towels from the linen closet and brought them into the ensuite bathroom. You heard him start the shower. “You answered the door looking all sexy and I panicked,” he confessed, popping his head back into the bedroom, a sheepish grin across his face that made him look ever so boyish. You adored it. “Next time, I’ll say we got a call about you being a prostitute.”
You cackled at that, making him grin even wider. “Better not,” you warned as you got off the bed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “otherwise I might make you pay for it, and I don’t think you can afford me on a sergeant’s salary.”
Bucky grabbed at his heart in mock pain. “Ouch. Well, how about we clean ourselves up and use the money I saved by not paying you to go have a nice fancy dinner, instead? How does that sound? We can talk about doing your fantasy next.”
You took his hand and led him back into the bathroom and the inviting warmth of the shower. “That sounds perfect,” you told him as you moved to stand under the showerhead. You planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”
Bucky placed his hands on your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze before kissing your forehead. “I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”
You began to lather each other up, trying your best, yet failing miserably, to not get too frisky with one another.
“Hey, Buck?” you asked after a moment, a question coming to mind that you’d been meaning to ask him.
“Yeah, doll?” He was gently scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, and it felt like heaven.
“How come you gave yourself a Southern accent?”
Bucky laughed and pulled you close, your back to his front, as he planted a kiss just behind your ear, right over the mark he had sucked into your skin. “I told you, doll. You looked so fucking sexy when you opened that door, I just panicked!”
Reeling from a bad break-up, you're desperately trying to find a new place to live but the Brooklyn rental market is a complete nightmare. You take a chance on an intriguing newspaper ad and enquire about a room in a shared house, where you'd be living with two mysterious men. The catch is that they want something other than your money for you to pay the rent...the one thing they don't have
(This is reposted from my Wattpad/ao3 accounts).
Hello! This is a vampire AU set in present day in Brooklyn. Just a heads up that vampire Bucky is kinda an asshole in this one, not always as nice to reader as he should be - so prepare for some angst! He does soften up, though. Maybe a little enemies to lovers sprinkled in there, my fave.
Peter Quill is also reader's terrible ex, so he's not his usual charming self! Apologies if he's your fave. But Steve is very sweet and offsets the meanness somewhat, thankfully.
Warnings: Smut and sexual references, violence, detailed descriptions of vampires biting/drinking blood, swearing, insecurity and low self esteem for reader, hints at an emotionally abusive past relationship, references to past cheating, alcohol use, some bad treatment of reader by Bucky, injury/near death, potentially dubcon as it could be argued the vampire/human dynamic is on shaky ground in that sense - but reader is an enthusiastic participant. These warnings are not exhaustive so please proceed at your own risk.
In my head this Bucky is Civil War era Bucky - beefy with longer hair, but of course you are free to picture your favourite Bucky incarnation - that's the beauty of fic! Reader is fem, generally undescribed but has hair long enough to be in her face.
And yeah it’s purely self indulgent sexy vampire shit. Apologies.
I’m loving this, it’s stunning and well written! The tension with Bucky is delicious but he’s also a complete asshole. Guess that’s the Bucky we know and love huh
A/n: All mistakes are my own. Written on my phone.
Stucky x Reader, Bucky x reader, Stucky, Steve x reader
AU: you finally get Steve and Bucky together- now you need to work out what to do with yourself abs your broken heart.
Warnings: angst, smut, 18 plus only please, fluff, FWB situation, presumed unrequited love, polyamory, MMF, bisexual Stucky, Dom!Bucky, sub!Steve, switch!reader
-
Bucky and Steve finally shared their first kiss on Valentine’s Day.
It was a bittersweet moment for you; you’d been trying to get them together for too long and now you had nothing to do, nowhere to go.
In a twisted and complicated situation you’d ended up as a FWB to both of them. It started with Bucky, a wet night with only his leather coat for shelter turned into desperate kissing and more. Then three months later he was on a mission and Steve had come in from a date in a terrible headspace.
You called Bucky because you didn’t know what else to do. Bucky’s advice was to screw Steve’s brains out.
“What?” You stuttered.
“He gets too into his head, you gotta’ help him clear it out doll,” Bucky said in that gruff tone.
“I - but - we-“
“Go ahead. I don’t mind sharing our arrangement with Stevie. Always shared everything with him anyway, you’re no different,” Bucky said as if you were an old coat or a favourite book.
It hurt, deep in your gut like a hand twisting it savagely, but you brushed it aside. You were just a couple of friends who tamed an itch. Bucky probably did it with lots of girls and guys. You weren’t his only one. You couldn’t be.
So you fell into a routine with them. If Steve had any reservations he didn’t share them and his mood changed, not just that night but overall. He was lighter, different like he had a plan again.
It was obvious they were in love, that they wanted each other. Everyone could see it, especially you. You spent most time with them, you saw the subtle touches, kind words and gentle gestures. You would find them making each other breakfast, or always making sure the other one was drinking enough water.
And the sex was …even? You never spent more time with one over the other. You went from one to the other than back.
Sometimes you didn’t even get to shower; after a night with Steve Bucky would drag you to his room in the morning to taste you while Steve went on a run. Sometimes Steve would come in after a long stint of being Captain America and bury his face in you pussy moments after Bucky had went to his own room.
“I can’t take it. They’re ruining my vagina,” you complained to Nat one evening after too many cocktails. The and my heart was left unspoken but you both knew it.
Nat had laughed anyway because in that moment you both needed to laugh. “Set them up.” She poured another drink. She wasn’t even following recipes any longer. It was shots of hard liquor that burned in the best way.
So you did, you made sure the floor you all shared was off limits, you lit candles and played soft music, dimmed the lights. You got your hands on some Asgardian Champagne, scattered rose petals and made sure both their bedrooms had ample supplies of lube and toys.
You made sure your own room had noise cancelling headphones, snacks and a queue of your favourite shows all lined up to make sure you didn’t think too much. Or hear too much.
You should have prepared for a broken heart.
Here they were after confessing their love and finally kissing as they stood in front of the massive windows. You were on the couch, you needed to start them off, convince them to take the leap, but as soon as they got lost in each other you stood and slipped away.
At least you tried to.
“Where are you going?” Steve asked, his voice small and vulnerable.
You froze and looked over your shoulder. They were both looking your way, faces unreadable.
“To give you both some privacy,” you said quietly.
“But we need to thank you,” Bucky’s voice was equally soft.
You offered them a smile, it was genuine because you were happy for them, you just realised too damn late that you’d fallen for both of them.
They walked towards you, a pair of supersoldiers, one beefy the other sculpted. One dark the other light.
Two pairs of blue eyes burned into your skin. You felt like crying, because it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen and all they were going to do was hug you then get on with their lives.
Bucky caught your hand and pulled you towards his body but he turned you so your back was to his chest.
“Say thank you Stevie,” he growled.
Steve immediately dropped his mouth to yours. The kiss was gentle, just a brush of his pink lips as they pressed into yours. He pulled away after the kiss that was not just friendly. “Thank you.” He had that sincere look, the honest voice.
Your heart broke a little more.
And then Bucky was turning you in his arms and looking down at you. Steve’s big hands rested on your hips as he held you in place for Bucky. Bucky was rougher than Steve, his lips pressed you harder more demanding making you weak at the knees.
Where Steve asked Bucky took.
“Thank you,” Bucky said, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Now where were we?”
And they started kissing over your shoulder. They moved close crushing your body between theirs, hands holding you still as they explored each others mouths.
You gasped and tried to slip away but you were trapped. You tried harder only for them to part and Bucky looked at you with hard eyes.
“Stop squirming doll, I’m kissing on my fella and you’re distracting me. You’ll get your turn.” You gaped up at Bucky but his focus was back on Steve. “Come ‘ere you.”
You could hear the wet noises of their kisses, could feel their physical reactions as you stood trapped between their hard bodies.
When they pulled apart for air you found yourself turned back to Steve and he was kissing you, desperate now as he licked into your mouth. He let out a needy moan as he lifted you and you had no choice but to wrap your legs around him.
“So fuckin’ sexy,” Bucky growled. His hands were on your hips and ass and it took you a moment to realise you were moving towards Steve’s bedroom.
Steve fell back on his bed and looked up at you with doe eyes, lips parted and pure trust. And something else you couldn’t place. You were straddling his waist when the bedroom door clicked shut.
“Don’t mind me,” Bucky sat on the chair in the corner, and you looked between them. Maybe this was one last night with them, and you would make it count before they got on with the rest of their lives without you.
In the bedroom Steve was submissive. It had surprised you at first; but it made sense. Steve carried the universe on his shoulders sometimes so it was natural that he’d want to forget. So you were what he needed you to be. You took charge, took care of him, made it so that he didn’t need a plan or a rousing speech in the bedroom.
Bucky was dominant, that didn’t surprise you at all. He needed control, where he’d been tortured before now he thrived in giving pleasure in making decisions, on taking care of his lovers. You let him take care of you, you basked in and enjoyed it. You loved the attention.
And you were the perfect switch between them giving each of them what they needed.
You bit your lip, nerves running through you but you pushed it aside to try and enjoy one last night with them both.
“Colour?” You asked.
“Green!” Steve said urgently.
“Steve, take your clothes off,” you said. Steve immediately sat up and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, looking between you and Bucky but you clicked your tongue and Steve’s eyes flew to you. “Eyes on me baby, you have him all to yourself soon enough.”
Steve’s eyebrows scrunched and Bucky shifted in his chair but you stayed still watching Steve. He folded his shirt then toed his shoes off, and as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops he looked down at you, holding it between big hands.
Bucky sucked in a breath as you nodded and Steve set the belt on the bed for later. He sat and removed his socks then his pants.
Once upon a time his cheeks would have been red by this point but Steve had gotten past that, he trusted you and with his attention on you the fact that Bucky was sitting right there didn’t even phase him.
His boxer briefs were navy blue, and it was obvious he was aroused by the whole situation. He looked at you as he thumbed the waistband.
“Won’t be much fun with them on will it Soldier?” You teased and his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink before he started to push them down. “Eyes on me.” You reminded him and his confidence returned.
And then Steve was naked, standing tall and proud and fully erect. You looked at Bucky and he was watching the two of you with something that looked like pride.
“Why don’t you get your ring, plug and the lube?” You suggested to Steve.
Bucky groaned and you glanced over at him as Steve scrambled across the bed to grab what he wanted from underneath. “Do you want to cut in?”
Bucky smiled, warm and genuine and for a second your breath caught. “Yes,” he said softly. “But not yet. I’m dying to see where this goes.”
When you turned back to the bed Steve was kneeling in the middle, eyes wide and wet lips parted. “You look like a horny puppy.” You told him and it made him laugh.
You didn’t say anything else as you removed your clothes and Steve settled down to watch you, waiting patiently with his hands in his lap.
When you got to your bra and panties you hesitated but Bucky’s soft voice rang in your ears. “All of it.”
You looked over at him, making eye contact to acknowledge you’d heard him then nodded, holding his gaze.
You removed your bra, then panties and Steve let out a gentle moan.
“On your back baby,” you told Steve. He complied immediately and lay back, spreading his long legs so you could settle between his thighs. He handed you a pillow and you thanked him with a kiss to the lips then helped him place it under his hips. “Do you want your belt?”
Steve nodded eagerly and you handed it to him. Steve lay back with his arms stretched above his head holding the belt in his hands.
“Colour?” You checked.
“Green,” Steve said.
“Steve is such a good boy that he stays like that until he’s told to move,” you told Bucky. “Well, most of the time.”
Bucky laughed softly and you drew your focus back to Steve. Bending you kissed his thighs, nipping at sensitive skin. As you moved closer Steve moaned and gasped until finally you were pressing a chaste kiss to the base of his cock.
You kissed lower until your tongue reached his tightly furled ass, and then with wet licks you proceeded to help him relax. You didn’t notice Bucky get out of his chair, not until you saw the black vibranium hand resting on Steve’s knee.
You pulled away and looked up at him. “Too much for you?”
“Christ Dolly you’re killing me,” Bucky’s voice was rough with arousal.
You giggled and got back to your task. It wasn’t long before you were sitting up and drizzling lube on your fingers. You warmed it up then pressed two against his puckered hole.
“The lube is edible and flavoured. Steve likes his asshole eaten,” you said conversationally to Bucky.
Steve whined and you grinned up at him. You shuffled closer and took the tip of his cock into your mouth, licking the pre-cum and sucking the skin as you curled your fingers. Steve cried out and you took him deeper, breathing through your nose as he filled your throat. You loved this, Steve at your mercy as you pleasured him.
When you finally felt the hairs at the base of his cock tickle your nose you pulled back and reached for the cock ring. “He doesn’t really need this, he has a refractory period just like yours but sometimes he’s over eager. He can get…messy.”
Steve moaned softly, hearing you talk about him as if he wasn’t there was driving him insane in the best way.
“You know him well,” Bucky praised. He was right behind you now looking over your shoulder, still fully clothed apart from his shoes and socks. You hadn’t noticed him taking them off.
You reached for the plug next, it was a smaller one, black, with a flared base. It slipped in easily but Steve moaned and arched his back. You turned it slowly and watched his chest heave.
“How do you feel?” You asked Steve.
He nodded and met your eyes. “I feel yeah-“
“Colour?” You asked.
“Green,” Steve practically slurred.
You chuckled and then settled back onto your haunches. Bucky looked at you curious for your next move.
“He’s all yours,” you whispered looking up at him.
A big hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you softly. “He’s all ours Doll.”
Your heart skipped a beat and you wished that were true but you pushed the hope away. This was about getting them together. Nothing else.
Bucky kissed you, his movements lazy but dominating and he gripped your soft skin. His hand slipped between your legs and you’d been able to ignore your needs until now but as soon as his fingertip brushed your slick puffy lips you sighed and leaned into Bucky. His other hand moved to your hair and he fisted it just enough to pull your head back. “I’m so proud of you. Watching you with Steve, so proud of both of you.”
You felt the blood warm your cheeks at his praise and snuggled against him.
“Now, I’m going to undress. I want you to get a reward for being so good to Stevie, what do you say Steve?” Bucky asked easily taking over the room.
Steve nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, baby, sit on my face?”
“Yeah, I want to see that. Go sit on his face baby,” Bucky kissed you again. You did as he asked, turning so you could watch him. Steve didn’t let go of the belt as his tongue dove inside your folds, lapping and sucking at your juices.
Steve moaned and Bucky’s sharp eyes zeroed in on you. “Hovering baby girl? That’s against the rules,” Bucky warned.
Steve moaned again and you chuckled, giving Bucky a bright smile. “I know he’s been good, but he has to earn it,” you teased.
Bucky smiled softly and removed his black boxer briefs and then he was kneeling between Steve’s spread legs. He skimmed his fingers along the sensitive skin on Steve’s thighs and you could see Steve tremble. You close that moment to rest your full weight on him for a few seconds, knowing he needed it.
His moans vibrated through you and then Bucky was kissing you. “Good fuckin’ girl.”
Bucky touched Steve and every time he cried out or trembled you rested your weight onto him, calming him.
And then Bucky was bringing the plug out, replacing it with his fingers. His eyes flicked up to you as Steve sucked on your clit.
“Cum baby,” Bucky said. You didn’t even know you were waiting for permission. You cried out as your release washed through you, making your toes curl. As you came down from your high Bucky kissed you. “Now go clean him up.”
You moved fast, straddling Steve’s tummy and kissing over his face, licking into his mouth. You were so busy kissing Steve you almost missed the deep groan he let out. Two hands, one warm and one cold lifted your hips and then Steve’s cock was sliding snugly into your soaked cunt.
“I’m going to fuck both of you now,” Bucky warned.
“Please Bucky,” you whined.
Bucky’s hand slid into your hair and he grabbed a thick fistful as he pulled you back against his chest.
“Look at you,” Bucky growled in your ear as his other hand slid around your throat. His nimble fingers trailed your body, plucking at your nipples, squeezing soft flesh, tickling your hips and exploring the area where you and Steve were joined. “Our perfect girl.”
“Bucky,” you turned to him squeezing your thighs. Beneath you Steve grunted as you squeezed his cock, his eyes never leaving you and Bucky.
“Colour?” Bucky asked you.
“So fuckin’ green!” You said.
“Stevie, baby I need you to hold onto her, make sure she has some support. Hands up,” he said.
Steve let go of the belt and raised his hands, palms up and fingers wide. “Good boy baby,” Bucky praised. You reached out and pressed your palms to Steve’s, let your fingers tangle and lock together.
Steve tested the pressure, moving you slightly and you couldn’t help but giggle as he practically used you as a weight, lowering you to kiss his lips then pushing you back to Bucky’s chest.
Bucky let out a soft laugh at the two of you and hooked his chin over your bare shoulder. “Show off,” he said to Steve. Steve, in a happy headspace blew him a kiss.
Bucky started off gentle, his thrusts going through Steve and into you. Bucky was taking his time, working out this new position as he managed both of you.
His hands returned to your body, his fingers strumming over your body. He knew every nerve, knew what made you sigh and squeal, what relaxed you and what wound you up.
With a palm on your back he pushed you forward until you were lying on Steve’s chest. His right hand gripped your butt cheek, moulding the flesh and you knew it was coming but you still yelped.
Steve grunted, you were squeezing his cock again. “Do you know why I’m spanking you?” Bucky’s voice cut through your brain fog and you nodded.
“I broke a rule,” you slurred. Steve kissed your cheek and forehead as he simply observed. “I hovered.”
Bucky grunted in agreement and a few more slaps landed on you. “You had a good reason though so I think that’ll do.”
Bucky’s hands moved over your back as he curled over you both. His right hand cupped Steve’s cheek. Kissing each other in this position would be impossible so he ran his thumb over Steve’s lips. Steve opened his mouth and sucked Bucky’s thumb in. Bucky groaned at the sight and the sensation.
“You good there Sweetheart?” Bucky asked him.
Steve’s smile was dopey, despite Bucky’s digit in his way and he nodded, his eyes shining. “Never better.”
The words were garbled but easily understood none the less. As Bucky pulled away he kissed your cheek.
Bucky started to thrust again and you moved back to sit on Steve, that’s when you realised you couldn’t feel the cock ring. Bucky must have removed it from Steve and you were grateful because you didn’t think you had the ability to remove it at this point. You were a soft Dom, you didn’t like delaying or preventing orgasms, you were too needy yourself.
You kissed Steve’s chest and face as Bucky fucked him and Steve sobbed into your mouth when your lips met. Bucky’s movements were getting more aggressive and Steve was gasping and thrashing in pleasure.
“Is he good?” You prompted.
“So good, I’m - it’s - he’s amazing,” Steve said.
“Shush, baby hush, he’ll hear you and his ego will be insufferable,” you teased.
Bucky laughed, his hand sliding around your throat and pulling you back to his chest. “So rude,” he grunted as he kissed you, his fingers finally brushing over your clit.
Steve came first after you clenched around his cock, your body chasing Bucky’s fingers, and you followed a few moments behind him. The familiar stutter of Bucky’s breathing told you he’d found his release too.
“You two will be the death of me,” he said as he kissed your neck and shoulders and helped you untangle yourself from Steve.
A warm cloth was cleaning you, hands were moving you and you realised Steve was getting the same treatment as he sighed in contentment.
Bucky got into bed on the other side of Steve and smiled softly at you both.
“I should go,” you said suddenly.
“No!” They both said at once.
You shifted. “But I- this was about you two.”
Steve pulled you on top of him then rolled over, pinning you between him and Bucky. “Going nowhere.”
Bucky chuckled. “Darlin’ we’re crazy about you, if you haven’t noticed. I know you like to talk about feelings and stuff but we’re doing this my way. You’re my best girl, he’s my best guy, we’ll work it out from there.”
You opened your mouth but your words betrayed you so instead you snuggled into their arms and enjoyed their warmth. Maybe this could work, maybe the three of you could find peace.
“Besides,” Steve yawned, “you negate our stupid.”
You giggled. Bucky slid a leg between yours and rested his hand on Steve’s chest.
Meanwhile deep inside your own chest your heart sang.
Request by @daddy-bucky: one bed trope "with a bit (LOTS & LOTS) of breeding kink."
Summary: Bucky gets exposed to a chemical compound that heightens his already above-average sense of smell. Then he's stuck sharing a bed with the girl he's nearly fucked on more than one occasion.
Warnings: profanity, dubcon (noncon? if you look too close?), slight thigh fucking, unprotected sex, somnophilia, heavy breeding kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: This one took me a few days because I got a bit of writer's block around the time the smut started. Thanks to @daddy-bucky for this unhinged request, specifically for the part where you requested that he be feral, apologizing but can't stop himself, and for mentioning that he can smell her ovulating. You are unhinged and I love it.
There are worse things than a mission going sideways. There are worse things than being stuck in a safehouse overnight. There are even worse things than being hunted down by a few thugs from a HYDRA offshoot. But you’re sure that there isn’t anything worse than being shut in with a man that you’ve nearly slept with on more than one occasion.
You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on your face as you try to come up with a way to make it through the night. You’re a four-hour drive away from the compound, and a five-hour drive away from the nearest SHIELD base. The safest option you had was to head to the closest safehouse and tuck in until morning, with a handful of modern-day HYDRA operatives hot on your heels. You start toweling your face dry and running through all of the mistakes that were made today.
The first mistake was believing that the intel you received about the new HYDRA facility was accurate, without doing the recon yourself. You were told that the facility is empty three days a week, only in operation from Monday through Thursday. That’s why you and Bucky staged your break-in for today, a Friday. Your second mistake was letting Bucky follow you into the lab, instead of having him stay at the door and keep watch. You don’t know what possessed him to take his own look around, to start reading the labels on the various vials located in glass refrigeration units and on benchtops throughout the room. Your third mistake was tucking your gun into your thigh holster while you searched through the lab’s computer, looking for the identification number of one specific compound that you were sent to retrieve. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you wouldn’t have been caught off guard when a night guard came bursting through the door, pointing his weapon right between your eyes. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you would’ve been able to shoot the guy yourself. Bucky wouldn’t have shoved you hard enough to send you crashing into one of the little glass refrigeration units in an attempt to get you out of the line of fire, before killing the guy himself. The shot leaving Bucky’s gun didn’t even register in your mind as you watched the glass door shatter and the vials inside shake around on the shelves. As you steadied yourself and shot Bucky an annoyed look, you didn’t notice the vial full of pale pink liquid was the only one that had broken and spilled.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asked gruffly, grabbing you by the forearm and pulling you away from the broken glass. You nodded quickly, feeling perfectly fine after being seconds away from having either a bullet in your head or shards of glass in your skin.
“I’m fine, just help me find the vial labeled 012-6A, so we can get out of here.” You double-checked the ID number on the computer screen one last time as Bucky stepped around you and began rifling through the refrigeration unit that you’d just been shoved into.
Bucky wouldn’t have known that he inhaled enough manganese to cause hyperosmia. He noticed the pink liquid spread over the surface of one of the shelves as he stepped in close and read over the various labels on the vials that were still intact, but he assumed you’d already seen the spill and since you didn’t mention it, it must not have been a big deal. In truth, even if you’d seen it and been able to properly identify it as a manganese compound, you would’ve written it off as being a minor incident. You’d have to be continuously exposed to it, inhaling large quantities of it over time to really be in any sort of major danger. A little sniff in a lab accident wouldn’t send either one of you to the hospital.
However, one of the known side effects of inhaling manganese is significantly increased olfactory perception, or to put it plainly: a heightened sense of smell. You might be able to smell the cleaners used on the lab floors or the wet dirt stuck in the treads of your tactical boots, if you’d inhaled the manganese. But Bucky, already having a heightened sense of smell from the super soldier serum coursing through his veins, would soon be able to smell everything.
After finding vial 012-6A, the two of you were tailed from the moment you left the compound until Bucky started weaving in and out of traffic, doing everything he could to shake the tail. You notified Fury and Sam of the situation and within minutes, you had an address to a safehouse and were on your way.
Bucky carefully folds out the couch bed, watching the thin mattress unfurl before him. It might just be the most uncomfortable looking bed he’s ever seen, but it’s not like he ever sleeps much anyway. You, however, are in for a rough night. Before you went to shower, you found a set of sheets and a quilt tucked away in a closet and set them out. Bucky begins making the bed but something isn’t quite right. As he lays the flat sheet over the fitted one and begins tucking the corners at the foot of the mattress, he starts to wonder why the he can smell the metal springs beneath. The metallic scent is strong, as if he’s pressed his nose right against the springs and inhaled as hard as he could. He stands up straight and sniffs the air, instantly overwhelmed by the plethora of smells circulating in the air. What the hell is going on?
When you emerge from the bathroom a moment later, you find Bucky standing in the middle of the tiny house, running a hand through his hair and looking a bit bewildered.
“Bucky?” You call his name softly, slowly crossing the room and eyeing the bed that he’s made up for you both. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor, not even acknowledging your presence. “Bucky, what’s going on?” You try again.
“Everything smells really strong.” He answers dryly, still not looking up at you. You narrow your eyes at him and start scanning his features, looking for any clues as to what might be going on.
“What do you mean? Don’t things always smell really strong to you?”
“Not like this, this is…I can smell your shampoo.” He says. His blue eyes flit up, meeting your gaze and holding it.
“What did you touch in the lab?” You ask suddenly, already leaping into action. You sit on the side of the couch bed and reach for your bag that sits on the floor, dragging it over to your feet. You rummage around for your laptop, fishing it out as soon as it hits your fingertips.
“I didn’t touch anything.” Bucky promises, shaking his head. He takes a couple of steps back, away from the bed, as if he can’t stand the smell of your shampoo or whatever else he smells on you. You begin typing quickly, working to open a secure video call line to Bruce Banner. “There was a spill, in that fridge I pushed you into.” He remembers, recalling the liquid that was spread over the shelf.
“Did you breathe it in?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder as you sit and wait for Bruce to join the video call.
“No, I mean, I don’t know. There wasn’t an odor, it didn’t feel like I breathed anything in.”
“What color was it?” You ask, already narrowing down the list of chemicals in your head based on the fact that it was odorless.
“Pink, clear.” Bucky answers. He’s rubbing the back of his neck as you wrack your brain. Pink, clear, odorless, hyperosmia-inducing. You have a theory, but you need Bruce to confirm. Your shoulders relax as your mind begins to realize that the chances of the chemical having been life-threatening are very low. There aren’t very many chemicals out there that are known to cause hyperosmia, and the ones that do are really only dangerous in large amounts. Bruce’s face appears on your laptop screen and relief washes over you.
“Hey, I have a few questions for you.” You say kindly, smiling at the scientist that you’ve grown familiar with. Bruce smiles back at you and Bucky catches himself narrowing his eyes and wondering how close the two of you actually are.
“Shoot.”
“There was a spill in the lab, Bucky may have inhaled something odorless, a pink aqueous solution. It’s causing hyperosmia, he says he can smell my shampoo from across the room.”
“More than his usual hyperosmia?” Bruce questions thoughtfully.
“Yes.” You and Bucky both respond in unison. You look over your shoulder at him again and notice how uneasy he looks, how he’s being sure to keep his distance from you. “I’m thinking it’s some sort of manganese compound.” You guess, turning your attention back to Bruce.
“You’re probably right. Just be on the lookout for any symptoms that would suggest otherwise, but if it was a small spill and he only inhaled a minimal amount of vapor from it, I wouldn’t be too concerned. The only worry I would have would be not knowing how manganese might react with the serum, but I can do some research on it and let you know what I find.” Bruce pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and crosses his arms over his chest.
“That’s what I was thinking. We’ll let you know if anything else develops, just send me whatever you find.” After a few more exchanges between the two of you, you end the call and shove your laptop back into your bag. Bucky remains across the room, watching you carefully, like he’s afraid to get too close.
What you don’t know, is that Bucky can’t just smell your shampoo. He can smell you. Your hair, your skin, your everything. You leave him be and head to the tiny kitchen connected to the living room, in search of a glass of water. Bucky inhales deeply through his mouth, trying to avoid smelling anything, but your scent lingers in the air and it’s suffocating. He’s going to have to sleep in the car just to get away from it.
---
“Bucky, you’re not sleeping in the damn car and neither am I. There’s a reason we’re stuck in this safehouse, we’re staying put.” Your tone is stern as you stand blocking the door. Bucky sighs heavily. He knows he could easily move you out of his way, but he also knows he’s treading dangerous waters already. The two of you have always had an indescribable tension, a palpable energy between you. One drunken night a month ago, you nearly fucked. You were drunk, he wasn’t, but he might as well have been with the way he lost his self-control when you leaned into him and rested your hands against his abs. The heated makeout session that ensued was electric, with your back pushed up against a wall in whatever bar the team had been hanging out in that night. The only reason you didn’t go through with it was because the grating sound of John Walker’s voice echoed down the dimly lit back hall right before he turned the corner and saw you pushing Bucky away. Only a week after that, Bucky caught you staring him down in the gym, clearly enjoying the sight of him shirtless and sweating as he threw punches at the bag. An hour later he had your lips against his in the elevator, desperately kissing and licking as much of the skin of your jaw and neck as he could before the elevator reached the main living floor. He would’ve taken you right there if the elevator was any slower. The third and final time was a week and a half ago, when, during an undercover mission, you both seemed to have trouble keeping your hands off of each other. Your covers gave you an excuse to be a little handsy, but continuing to be handsy the entire drive back to the compound wasn’t quite so excused. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the car following you, not until Redwing picked up on it and Sam alerted you both. That was the night you both decided to stop whatever it was that was going on between you. It was dangerous and addictive and it only served as a distraction in the field. So, you stopped it before it ever truly began.
Bucky moves around to the opposite side of the bed, shooting you a moody look before tugging his shirt off and baring his chest. Your eyes drift down to the dog tags that hang around his neck as he starts pushing his pants down his legs. Suddenly he’s standing there wearing nothing but boxers and dog tags, and your mouth is damn near watering.
“You’re sleeping in that?” You ask incredulously, gesturing at his distinct lack of clothing. Bucky chuckles and pulls the sheet and quilt back, sliding under the covers with ease. The thin mattress curves down to support his weight and the springs creak loudly.
“You’re sleeping in that, so you can’t complain.” He mimics your gesture as he refers to your oversized t-shirt and lack of pants. It isn’t your fault. You didn’t have much in your bag, this was never supposed to be an overnight trip. You sigh as you sit on your own side of the bed, turning your back to Bucky. He turns off the lamp beside the couch and the room is cast into darkness.
While you’re sitting on the side of the bed, reminding yourself why the two of you decided to leave each other alone, Bucky’s lying on his back, breathing through his mouth. He can still smell you. The vanilla scent of your shampoo makes him want to bury his face in your hair and inhale as deeply as he possibly can, it smells so fucking sweet.
An hour later, you’re sound asleep next to Bucky, with your back facing him and the sound of your soft, steady breathing filling the quiet space. Every single minute that’s gone by since you slid under the covers next to him has be spent actively trying to ignore the smells in the air. First, all he really noticed was your shampoo. After fifteen minutes of lying next to you, he could smell the lotion you put on your legs that morning. Ten minutes later, he was ready to bust down the damn door to get to the car. He could smell you. Something so distinctive, something that was sending his entire body into overdrive with every breath he inhaled.
Now Bucky lies there, clenching his jaw and covering his face with both hands in an attempt to stifle the scent that he’s trying to pretend isn’t there. He’d have already gotten out of the bed and locked himself in the bathroom, the closet, or even a fucking kitchen cupboard if the bed springs weren’t so damn loud. He can’t make a move that big without waking you up, so he remains frozen. It’s not until Bucky hears you whimper in your sleep that he pulls his hands away from his face and turns his head to look in your direction. Though the scent of your unconscious arousal is affecting him so strongly, the sound you made momentarily redirects some of the bloodflow away from his cock, toward his head. The tone to your whimper was fearful. It escapes your lips again and Bucky watches as you begin to shake beside him. Fuck. Of course you have nightmares. You’re so similar in so many other ways, he should’ve assumed you were plagued the same way that he is.
As your eyes dart back and forth rapidly beneath your closed eyelids, your breathing quickens more and more until your body begins to feel deprived of oxygen. That’s when you wake up, gasping for air, in full fight-or-flight mode. You’re on your side, grasping the quilt in your left hand and desperately searching the darkness around you for anything familiar.
Without thinking, Bucky rolls onto his side and slides his vibranium hand over your hip. Though he can’t feel it, your shirt has ridden up above your thighs and his hand lands partially on the waistband of your panties and partially on your skin. You tense at his touch initially, still trying to figure out where the hell you are, but that touch is something familiar. Your mind latches onto it, and suddenly you’re remembering the last three times you felt it. Vibranium against your skin, his lips on yours, every nerve ending in your body firing at the same time. It’s familiar, so familiar that you relax after a couple of seconds and lean back. Your back brushes against his chest and his grip on your hip tightens a barely noticeable amount as he realizes you’re moving. He doesn’t want you to move back too far and find out that he has a full-blown erection while you’re recovering from a nightmare, but he also doesn’t want to stop you from finding comfort.
“You’re safe.” He whispers close to your ear, taking in the scent of your shampoo once again. His eyes close as the vanilla temporarily covers up the smell that’s been driving him insane for the past hour. “We’re in a safehouse.” He assures you. Your breathing begins to slow and your shaking limbs calm as you move your left hand. You release your grip on the sheets and slide it beneath the covers, running your palm over the crevices of his vibranium hand. So familiar.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” You apologize softly, taking in a shaky breath and flattening your hand over his metal one.
“I wasn’t asleep.” Though you know how he operates in the field, how he likes to be kissed, how infuriating he can be when he insists on doing things his way, you don’t know much about his sleeping habits…or lack thereof. Suddenly, the evening’s mission comes flooding back into your mind. You remember him being exposed to something and experiencing hyperosmia, with you and Bruce only being able to speculate about the chemical he inhaled. You make a move to look over your shoulder at him and when you do, your body almost enough to let your ass make contact with his crotch. He squeezes your hip so hard that you almost peel his vibranium fingers off of you.
“Shit, Bucky.” You speak through clenched teeth as he holds you firmly in place against the mattress. “What are you—”
“Don’t move.” He groans. The tone of his voice is one you’ve heard once before, when you were licking and sucking the skin along the column of his throat in the elevator that day. Instead of listening to his clear command, you try to wiggle an inch or two away from him, as if that would help the situation, but it only makes Bucky’s problem more obvious. His hard cock is straining against the fabric of his black boxers, and as you move your hips once again, it brushes against your ass and you feel it. You feel it and you freeze. “Fuck.” Another groan leaves his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Your nightmare from moments ago is forgotten.
“Is it…is it from what you inhaled earlier? Tell me what you’re feeling.” The words come tumbling out of you with urgency as you grow more and more worried.
“Yeah. No. It’s just—fuck.” Bucky swears again, exhaling quickly and then inhaling through his mouth. “You smell so goddamn good, I don’t know what to do with myself.” You’re both silent, so silent that you can hear the way he’s mouth-breathing just so he doesn’t have to overwhelm himself with your scent.
“Bucky—”
“You saying my name only makes this worse.” His grip on your hip tightens slightly and you try to keep your own breathing shallow, so you won’t be moving even a centimeter more than necessary.
“What can I do to help?” You ask quietly. What can you do to help? Bucky bites his lip. Your question is so innocent, so kind, and yet all he can think about is actually letting you do the one thing that would help him right now.
“Let me sleep in the car.” He sighs. You can tell he’s struggling, you can tell he’s in need, and as much as you hate that he’s in that kind of position, you can’t help but feel a little excited about the fact that he’s in it with you.
“You know why that’s a stupid idea. What else can I do?” While you’re lying there in front of him, offering your help, Bucky’s squeezing his eyes shut as he remembers the taste of your lips and the skillful way that you ran your hand along his thigh in the car after that one mission, letting your fingertips just barely skim over his bulge. He remembers every fucking detail of the way you kiss and the memories paired with the fact that your ass is still pressed against him make him feel as though all control is slipping away from him.
“Remind me why I can’t have you.” His request takes you by surprise. It takes a moment for your mind to gather the words that will give him what he wants.
“We work together.” Three words? That’s all you can come up with? With his cock pressing against your ass, your mind is going on strike.
“We work together.” Bucky repeats. That’s a shit reason, sure as hell not a good enough reason to get him to let go of your hip.
“It’d ruin our working relationship.” You try again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in.
“It would.” Bucky agrees. Your reasons really aren’t even registering in his mind. He’s loosening his hold on your hip but instead of letting go completely, he starts dragging a vibranium fingertip along the waistband of your panties, almost absentmindedly. Your breath hitches in your throat when his fingertip ghosts over your lower stomach, but he slowly drags it back to your hip. He loves the way your body responds to even the slightest of touches.
“It could end horribly.” You point out, trying to keep your breathing steady as he continues tracing the waistband of your panties.
“It could.” He says with a small nod. Bucky doesn’t think as he leans in and presses his lips against the side of your neck. One kiss. One deep inhale. Another kiss. Another deep inhale. You catch yourself arching your back the tiniest bit, pressing your ass against him more.
“There isn’t a single good reason for us to do this.” It’s the last thing you can think of. Bucky pulls his lips away from your neck and his hand stills on your hip.
“There isn’t. It would be a pretty bad decision.” He acknowledges. That’s when you feel him adjust his legs and grind into you. “We might end up hating each other.”
“We can’t have that.” You tsk, biting into your bottom lip after the words leave your mouth. Neither one of you has enough self-control to separate at this point.
“You can have whatever the fuck you want.”
The soft whimper that leaves your lips at the undeniably filthy sentence he’s just spoken against your ear makes him grind into you harder. He can’t think straight when you make noises like that, when you smell like you do. Fuck. You don’t say a word, so he slides his vibranium hand down your thigh and wraps it around your knee, hitching your leg back and over his own. Once he has you a little more spread and leaning even more into his space, he grinds against you from the new angle. You feel his erection against your clothed cunt and the already wet fabric between your legs gets a little more soaked.
“I thought you just agreed that this would ruin our working relationship.” You whine. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Though you sound like you’re being reasonable, your mind is anything but.
“I’m thinking about ruining something right now.” He grumbles against the side of your neck, nipping at your skin.
“We can’t do this.” You say firmly, reaching your left hand down to pull his vibranium one away from your leg that’s still hitched over his thigh. When your palm glides over the now warm metal, you can’t seem to push his hand away. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and fight to hold in the moans that are threatening to spill from your lips if he keeps grinding against you the way that he is.
“I know, baby, we can’t.” Bucky groans, rutting into you a little harder and faster, as if he’s trying to get just a little more pleasure out of this before it ends.
“We can’t.” You repeat. Why your hand lets go of his and moves to reach over your shoulder and tangle in his hair is beyond you. Why you pull him further against your neck, encouraging him to kiss and lick you even more is lost on you. Why you don’t do a damn thing to stop what’s currently happening can only be chalked up to how badly you’ve wanted him to fuck you since the first time you kissed him in that bar. Bucky doesn’t dare to say a single word more. He isn’t going to risk talking a little too much sense into you. So, he starts sucking on your neck, leaving obvious marks as you whimper and moan out those sweet, irresistible little noises that have him wanting to fuck you ten different ways.
Bucky’s holding onto the tiniest thread of self-control, it’s all he has left, a damn thread. Every single one of his senses is overwhelmed as he grinds himself against your barely clothed body and tastes the skin of your neck.
“We’re not doing this.” Bucky sounds so resolved, but even as he speaks the claim, he’s pushing your leg off of where it was hitched over his own and guiding you onto your stomach. He doesn’t want you on your stomach, fuck no. He wants you in any position where he can see the faces you make when he buries himself inside of you for the first time, when he starts fucking you the way you’ve needed to be fucked for weeks now, when he cums inside of you. But Bucky knows if he has the privilege of seeing your face through all of that, he won’t ever be able to look at you the same way. He won’t ever be able to go back to working with you in the field. It would ruin your working relationship just like you said. So, he makes sure you’re on your stomach when he starts pushing your shirt up and running his palms along the skin of your back. There isn’t a hint of protest from you as your back arches against his hands and your ass raises up ever so slightly. Even as Bucky begins tugging your panties down your thighs, not a damn word.
Your scent. Your fucking scent. As soon as he has your panties halfway down your thighs, he knows why he couldn’t resist you. You’re ovulating, and he can smell it, the pheromones, just radiating off of you.
“Fuck.” Bucky groans headily. He completely abandons his effort to tug your panties any further than your knees as he rolls on top of you and gets his cock in just the right position to slide between your legs. His hard shaft presses against your wet cunt as he lowers himself onto you and lets his length move between your upper thighs. “You’re already so wet, fuck.”
It only takes a second for you to have Bucky’s entire cock soaked with your arousal, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet. You can’t stop yourself from arching your back and pressing your ass up and into him as he teases you, dragging his length back and forth along your cunt but never giving himself the chance to slide in.
“Bucky…” His name leaves your lips as a needy moan and you don’t have to say another word. You don’t have to ask him to do it. He braces himself with his forearms on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your legs, and lets you shuffle your own knees until they’re underneath you enough to raise your ass off of the bed. A breathy whimper escapes you as a shiver runs down your spine.
“If you keep saying my name, I won’t be able to pull out when I need to.” Bucky warns you, just as you feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You think he’s about to push in, when he lets his cock slip away from your entrance and run lazily through your folds. He does it repeatedly, letting it rub against your clit over and over again, listening as your breaths come in more and more ragged at the stimulation.
“Shit, you’re right. You’re not wearing a condom.” You point out in a rare moment of clarity. Bucky chuckles and uses one hand to move your hair away from your neck, before leaning down as pressing a kiss there. You push your forehead into the pillow, muffling the soft moan that you can’t hold back.
“I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky repeats, as if he means to say that he wouldn’t wear one even if he happened to have one.
“You’re not wearing a—” You’re cut off by Bucky thrusting half of his length into you so suddenly and forcefully that the rest of your sentence disappears from your mind entirely and your hands move to grip his wrists beside your head. You dig your nails into him without realizing as your muscles tense and you press your face into the pillow once again.
“That’s it, get used to it.” Bucky encourages you. It’s such a simple thing to say yet it sounds so filthy coming from him in this moment. It is filthy. He takes a moment for himself, focusing on how tightly your pussy is gripping the first few inches of his cock, how your arousal is basically dripping down his shaft as he lets you adjust to him. That little thread of self-control he was holding onto earlier has frayed more and more and he can’t stop himself from forcing the rest of himself inside of you, until his balls are pressing against you and you’re screaming into the pillow.
“It’s too much, oh my god, it’s too much.” You moan out as you lift your face from the pillow and rest your chin on it instead. You don’t dare to try and look over your shoulder at him, you can barely move without feeling the sting of his cock stretching your entrance.
“No, no it’s just an adjustment.” Bucky coos, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck and inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of your hair. “You’re taking it so well already, just relax for me.”
Your body listens to him. You feel yourself relaxing. First, your hold on his wrists eases until you’re no longer leaving nail marks in his skin. Then, you let out a deep exhale and sink into the mattress beneath him. Bucky’s in awe of you. He knows he’s big, and he knows it’s probably been a while since you’ve slept with anyone with the way work keeps you busy near 24/7. You really are taking him so well. He starts dragging his length out of you slowly, but only a third of the way before he’s pushing it back into you again. The wet sound that results makes him fucking feral. He does it again. Then again. And again. The next thing he knows, he’s holding your hips with your ass up in the air and your face down on your folded forearms as he fucks you so hard that the springs of the couch bed are threatening to snap. With every loud creak of the springs, there’s an equally loud sound of skin smacking against skin. It’s animalistic, the way he’s fucking you.
“Fuck, I’m so close.” You whimper. You bite into your forearm, surely leaving a mark, as he sets a tortuously pleasuring pace. You can feel him reaching a spot inside you no one has ever reached before and it has your eyes rolling back in your head.
“I know, fuck.” Bucky says breathlessly. He pounds into you over and over again, chasing his own release as he feels the walls of your pussy fluttering around him. You’re right there and he can tell. “Cum on my cock, so I can pull out and cum all over your fucking back.” He groans, sounding so damn needy. You can’t think straight. You’re definitely not thinking straight. That’s the only reason you say what you say next.
“No, I’m not cumming if you’re going to pull out.” You say defiantly, actively fighting to hold back your orgasm. Bucky thrusts into you even harder, letting you know that he most definitely likes the sound of not pulling out. He leans down until his chest is pressed against your back and he’s close enough to whisper against your ear.
“You’re going to make me cum inside you when you’re fucking ovulating?”
“How do you—”
“I can fucking smell you.” He rasps against your ear. “Answer me. You really want me to do this?”
You don’t even take a moment to think about it, not a single moment to consider the possible consequence.
“Please.”
It’s only a few hard, deep thrusts later when Bucky’s rhythm grows sloppy and he gives you every single drop of cum he has, fucking it all into you almost recklessly. With every last thrust into your cunt, he’s fully aware that he could be getting you pregnant. He’s fully aware, and yet, he doesn’t have a single fuck to give.
---
It’s the smell of your arousal mixed with his cum, dripping out of you and into your panties, that wakes Bucky around midnight. It’s only been a couple of hours since he was buried deep inside of you but it feels like it could’ve been days ago with how hard his cock is right now. He reaches beneath the covers, palming his erection through the fabric of his boxers as he listens to your steady breaths. You’re sleeping so soundly beside him, with your back turned to him and the covers pulled up just past your waist.
A few key thoughts run through Bucky’s head as he lets his hand run along his clothed length. How serious is this to you? Have you wanted him as badly as he’s wanted you since that night in the bar? Is it just physical for you? A surface level attraction that you momentarily gave into because he was horny and shoving his cock against your ass in a shared bed? But you let him cum inside of you, while you’re ovulating. When your body is fully ready and capable of beginning a pregnancy, you let him pump an entire load into you without a hint of hesitation. You didn’t just let him, you said please. Bucky’s suddenly pushing his boxers down his thighs for the second time tonight, wrapping his fist around his length, and rolling over to face you.
He doesn’t think there’s ever been a better scent than the one emanating from between your legs right now. He can picture the way his cum is swirled together with your arousal right now, probably threatening to soak through the thin fabric of your panties and drip down the soft skin of your thighs until it reaches the bedsheets beneath you. It’s that thought that spurs Bucky on, that makes him tug your panties to the side and press a gentle kiss to the side of your neck as he guides his cock between your legs. The moment he feels the warmth of his own cum from earlier drip from your folds to coat his shaft, he starts mumbling against your skin.
“I need you.” He whispers into your neck, fighting the urge to bite into your skin as the head of his cock notches inside of you and begins to slide in. “Wake up.” Your eyes flutter open just as the head of his cock has fully entered you and the rest of his shaft is following. A raspy swear escapes your lips as your back arches and you start to tense up at the sudden intrusion. Bucky’s vibranium hand flies to your hip, stilling you as he continues pushing in.
“Oh my god.” It’s all you can say as he bottoms out inside you and immediately starts pulling his hips back. He sets a much slower pace than last time, rhythmically fucking you sideways. “I’m sore.” You whimper, turning your head slightly to muffle your moans in your pillow, just like you did earlier.
“I’m sorry, I know.” Bucky groans against your neck, continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He can’t stop. He can’t make his hips still, he can’t pull out of you and let you recover. He just fucking can’t. He fucks you as gently as he can, using his own cum from earlier as lube. With every slow thrust, your soreness dissipates more and more and pleasure begins to replace it. When he cums inside you the second time, it’s without warning, without one single worry about pulling out. He just does it and expects you to take it…which of course, you do.
---
You wake up two hours later, with aching thighs and the slightest hint of a burn on your neck from Bucky’s scruff. As you lie there in the darkness, listening to the sound of Bucky breathing softly mere inches behind you, feeling the excessive amount of cum pooling in your panties, you only seem to be able to think about one thing. Both times that he’s fucked you, he did it from behind. You didn’t get to see his face once. Not once did you get to see how he reacted when he felt the walls of your pussy clenching around him, the face he made when you told him you didn’t want him to pull out, or the way his eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open when he was cumming. You’ve been deprived of it.
Why does it bother you so much that he hasn’t looked in your eyes either of the two times he’s fucked you? Is he trying to pretend you’re someone else? As tears begin to rim the edges of your eyes, you tell yourself that you’re just being emotional because you’re ovulating. God. You wouldn’t have even known you were ovulating if he hadn’t told you himself.
Truthfully, you’re not even horny. Yet, you find yourself rolling over as quietly as possible, making sure the bed springs don’t creak beneath you. You’re silent as you tug your panties down your legs and toss them onto the floor. You’re even more quiet as you pull the covers back just enough to let you stealthily straddle Bucky’s hips, making sure you don’t touch him yet. Who knew this is what you’d be using all of your professional training for?
He begins to stir when your fingertips graze over his lower stomach. He draws in a deep breath as you tug his waistband down and free his already hard cock from the confines of his boxers. His eyes are blinking open, studying the sight before him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and stroke it firmly. That’s when he comes to his senses and his gaze lands on your face.
“Shit.” He breathes out as you sink down onto his length with determination. Your face. He can see your face. The way your features contort as you try to fit all of him in at this new angle is ruining him. This is exactly what he didn’t need to see, so he tries to talk some sense into you. “You’ll be too sore if we do this again, three times is too many.” Bucky says quietly, running his hands up your thighs to grab onto your hips. You’re only an inch from being fully seated on his cock when he holds you still, not letting you slide down any further. He doesn’t want it, you think. What man tries to stop a girl when she’s already sitting on his dick? He just wanted to fuck you in the dark, with your face invisible to him, and then he wanted to be done with you. Tears well up in your eyes a little more and you dare to look down at him. His gaze coasts from where you’re both connected, up the front of your t-shirt, to your face. That’s when he sees the watery layer over your pretty irises.
“Just let me do this.” You plead, pushing his hands away from your hips and taking in the last inch of his length. Bucky inhales sharply and screws his eyes shut as your tight, wet cunt envelopes his cock completely. He can’t deny you. He can’t deny you, so it’s his turn to fist the sheets as you start moving your hips. You alternate between sliding up and down the entirety of his length and grinding in deep, slow circles when he’s fully sheathed inside you. Even as a tear falls from your face and lands on his bare chest, he doesn’t open his eyes.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m already so close.” He groans, lifting his hands and covering his face with them. He wants nothing more than to roll you over and fuck you missionary. He wants to rail you into the mattress until its deformed and concaved to fit your body. He wants to pin you down and look into your eyes as he fills you for the third time.
“Look at me.” You whisper, moving your hips a little faster. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Bucky groans beneath his hands, and reluctantly removes them from his face, resting them on your thighs once more. His eyes focus between your legs again, but after a couple of seconds his lifts his gaze to meet yours.
“How do you still look so damn pretty after taking my cock the first two times?” He asks with a pained groan. You know he can’t possibly have much to give you after the first two times, but you’ll be damned if you’re not going to take what you can get. You start bouncing on his cock with increasing desperation, chasing your own orgasm. “You even look pretty with tears in your eyes.” He says with a softer tone.
Right as Bucky nears the edge, you feel his cock twitching, you feel his abs tighten beneath your hands, and you lean down. Your nose brushes against his and for a second, you think about kissing him.
“You know why I didn’t want to see your face?” He asks, his ability to form a complete sentence surprising even him. He pushes your hair back, cupping your cheeks in his hands as you continue riding his cock. “Because I knew I’d memorize the way you look when you’re stuffed full of my cock, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at you the same way again.”
“So you were okay with potentially getting me pregnant but not with looking me in the eye?” You ask incredulously, your hips slowing. Bucky groans and thrusts up into you impatiently.
“Don’t talk about being pregnant, fuck.” He thrusts up again and a smile plays on your lips. His hands move from your face down to your waist as he starts setting a pace.
“Bucky, you fucked me raw. You came inside me twice. I’m probably halfway to pregnant right now and you’re about to do it all over again. We can’t talk about it?”
In the blink of an eye, Bucky’s rolling you over, making sure his cock stays inside of you as he lays you on your back and immediately starts thrusting into you.
“Fine.” He grunts, pushing your thighs up to your chest and draping your legs over his shoulders. He buries himself in you deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. “I’ll look you in the eye right now while I make sure you’re so full of my cum that there’s no fucking way you aren’t pregnant. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck yes.” You moan out as he pounds into you. Within seconds, you’re a panting mess on the couch bed and Bucky’s staring down at you with a passionate, determined look in his eye.
“Look at me when I’m cumming inside you.” He commands. “Look at me when I’m getting you fucking pregnant.”
Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.
Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.
Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.
Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.
He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.
If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.
________________
“Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.
“I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.
“Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.
“Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.
“Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.
“But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.
______
The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat dual, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.
You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.
Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.
“What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.
“What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”
“Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.
“And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.
“I’m not a tease.”
“Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.
“I’m not.”
Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.
“Good girls don’t lie.”
______
To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.
Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.
He was fucked.
Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.
His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.
“You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.
“Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.
“You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.
“You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.
“Bucky—”
“No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”
You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.
“That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.
You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.
“Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”
When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.
“You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.
“Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.
“You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”
Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.
“Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”
You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.
“Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.
“That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.
“That was a fucking dream.” He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.
“Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.
“Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.
“It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.
“Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.
“I didn’t know—”
“Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.
Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.
His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.
He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”
“Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.
“Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.
Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.
Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.
“Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.
As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.
warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, degradation, teasing, dry-humping, daddy kink, pussy slaps, dacryphilia, begging, asphyxiation, unprotected sex, aftercare
author's note || 18+ ONLY. hello, one-bed trope with bucky lives in my mind rent free and i decided to do something about it. enjoy! not proof-read yet. feel free to comment, reblog, and send me requests!
»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««
“Alright, we got two rooms, one with just one bed and one with two beds. Should be enough to cover us tonight.” Sam claps his hands together as Bucky slowly walks up to the group.
This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out mission. It was not easy by any means, but it was nothing the group hadn’t done before. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Usually, you did most of SHIELD’s groundwork, directing and organizing missions alongside Maria. However, due to issues with communication with one particular agent in the previous mission, Fury had instructed you to be on-site to ensure there would be no gaps in the instructions Maria and Steve were relaying.
Except there was a gap. There was a gigantic gap in communication when you instructed Bucky to cover the cargo trailers in the westbound direction. Still, he decided you were wasting his time, so he left the trailers unattended, where the enemy was then able to take advantage of his isolation and overpower him. Had Natasha not interfered when she did, you did not even want to think about what could have happened. So you let him know just how pissed off you were the whole ride to the nearest motel since the world decided to unleash torrential rain at this very moment which made it impossible for you guys to navigate the jet out of whatever fucking city you were in.
Bucky didn’t say a single word. Not when you were yelling at him while patching him up. Not when you wouldn't shut the fuck up because he never fucking listened. Not when you were running into the beat-down motel with its flickering sign on its last life while still screaming at him.
He just stared at you. And he occasionally clenched his jaw.
This wasn’t the first time Bucky disobeyed your direct order and it wasn’t the first time he got hurt because of that. You understood him, tried to initiate kindness, and extended a friendly hand toward him. But all he ever did was stare at you. He never spoke to you more than he absolutely needed to. He never paid any attention to you when you would hang out with Steve, Sam, or even Nat and Wanda. And it did sting you just a bit. A pang in your heart every time he walked past you like you didn’t exist because you had developed a crush on him since the first time you saw him a few months ago. When you would put a little extra effort into your appearance every morning because he made you feel little butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach every time you would even cross paths.
When you did catch him staring at you, the weight of his eyes unmistakable, your heart rate would increase to match the flutters in your stomach, your cheeks heating under his gaze. He would look away immediately as if thrown out of his trance and catapulted into what he truly felt for you.
Disdain. Disgust. Maybe a little lust.
God, you hated Bucky Barnes. You hated how you didn’t hate him, not even when he dismissed you somehow even more than he ignored everyone else.
You were going to share a bed with Nat. Bucky and Sam could get the room with two beds because, of course, that was a reasonable conclusion.
Apparently fucking not.
“I am not sharing a bed with him!” you screeched at Sam and Nat indignantly while the smug pair stood with faux innocent expressions. They needed you and Bucky to sort out whatever tension was between them by any means necessary.
They stayed silent, and you, ever the chatterbox today, decided to refuse. “Nat, I can’t sleep in the same room as him. He hates me! I can’t sleep when I’m stressed!” You whined, pleading with your best friend to take some pity on you. She knew better than anyone what you felt for Bucky, and she also knew love better than anyone when she saw it.
Sam and Bucky walked a few steps ahead as you approached your door.
“Sweetie, you and me are the only ones keeping up comms with Steve and Maria. It makes sense for us to be split up tonight so we can at least direct these morons at the same time and handle any issues faster than we’d be able to if we shared a room and they were in the other one.” Natasha knew she was right, and Sam fought back a smirk as their plan was falling into fruition, given the look on your face.
Bucky remained quiet as if he could not possibly care less if you slept on top of him in bed or a ditch.
You were this close to wishing the latter was your inevitable fate.
“I hate it when you’re right.” As you approach the doors, you mutter and watch Sam take out the room keys.
Sam offers a small smile as Bucky walks in before you, patting you on the head and giving you a forehead kiss, “sweet dreams, pumpkin,” before shutting the door behind you as you roll your eyes.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after the lock clicked. His voice was raspy because he hadn’t used it in a while, and you barely held back the shiver that ran down your spine at his tone.
You take one look at the fraying carpet and decide that it has been years since this floor had some TLC. You look up at him to find his heavy-set eyes already on you, “I’m not sleeping on the floor either.”
His jaw clenches, and another unreadable emotion swirls in his eyes as he replies, “Guess that settles it, then.”
You roll your eyes and huff out that you’re jumping in the shower, not waiting for his reply- not that there was one. The water takes a while to warm up, and in the meantime, you peel your clothes off of yourself, dirtied by rainwater and the dirt, debris, and sweat that had accumulated earlier. You step into the shower and try to enjoy the feel of warm water cascading over your sore body.
You rarely made it onto the field as you genuinely preferred doing the background work, planning missions, writing up plans and procedures, assigning responsibilities to each Avenger and guiding them through the field while you stayed at the headquarters. Your muscles were undoubtedly aware of that fact, as you had to do a lot more hand-to-hand combat due to Bucky’s stupid mistake.
You couldn’t help but let your mind wander towards him, knowing you were completely bare just 10 feet away from him, how he would grunt in exertion and deliver calculated blows to his opponent. He was precisely your type: tall, brooding, broad shoulders, thick thighs. He didn’t speak that much, but his words were carefully weighed every time he did. He was so grumpy all the time, such a masculine man. You just loved it.
You tried not to think about how he didn’t feel the same. And also about the fact that you would be sharing a bed with him.
The water grew cold, and you realized you had been in the shower for upwards of twenty minutes. You shut off the water and wrap yourself in one of the towels provided by the hotel. You pulled out your pyjama set since there was a possibility that you would have to stay somewhere tonight due to the heavy rain. You didn’t think you were sleeping with Bucky, or you would have grabbed something a bit more conservative. You slip into the white tank top and shorts with a dainty floral design. You mentally prepared yourself to make a bee-line for the bed so you wouldn’t have to face Bucky while wearing next to nothing.
A few feet away, Bucky was scrolling through the shitty channels playing on the shitty TV, ignoring the way his heart raced when the bathroom door unlocked and you emerged from the small room. He tried so hard not to stare at your outfit, unable to ignore the way all the blood in his body rushed to his dick when your tiny shorts rolled up even higher as you innocently bent over to check over your work laptop for any updates.
“You really gonna wear that?” He scoffs and immediately realizes it didn’t exactly come out as playful as he would have liked. He winces at himself as you put the laptop back into its case and turn around to face him, and he can't stop himself from quickly glancing over your body.
Crossing your arms under your chest, unintentionally drawing his attention to your tits, you scoff at him. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck in this shithole with you, then I would have made sure to wear a fucking hazmat suit.”
“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gonna bite.” He smirked, finally deciding on a channel he liked and turning his attention to it as you stood and stared at him, mouth open because out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them, especially not with the flirtatious lilt to his voice.
“Do not- do not tell me to relax! And don’t call me that! And- and ugh!” You retort weakly, strutting the few steps it took to get to the other side of the bed,
Bucky licks his lips as you lay down next to him with your back towards him. Still huffing and puffing like the brat you were.
He snorts at you, glancing at his watch and turning the TV off.
“Do not snort at me, James.” Your voice comes out sharp, and he snorts again.
“Tell me again what I can’t do, sweetheart? " he asks in a mockingly sweet voice. It makes you sick to your stomach.
With desire.
You ignore him and tug the small comforter towards you, the bed suddenly feeling really small, with Bucky’s large frame taking up more than half of it.
“Quit stealing the covers.” He grunts out, tugging them back towards him and leaving you bare and exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasp and sit up., using all your force to pull the covers back towards you, and even though you both know he let go, you still stick your tongue out at him.
He grumbles something under his breath, and you smile victoriously. You’ll let the covers go eventually; you need to bask in your victory for a few minutes. Your mind begins to relax as you snuggle into the bed before you hear a sharp exhale, and somehow, you go from facing the dim wall to being pinned under Bucky. His frame entirely dwarfs yours, and the only light filtering in the room was the street lights and moon, the thin curtains doing nothing to block the shine. You shriek as you’re manhandled so quickly and forced to look into Bucky’s now dark blue eyes.
“Enough. I’ve had enough.” He growls, his hand pinning both your wrists down, and you have to fight yourself to keep in all tells of how aroused you are by the situation.
“You’re such a fucking brat,” he continues. “Didn’t shut up for two hours straight. Always think you’re right. Always act like you’re smarter than everyone. Always fucking teasing me with your slutty fucking outfits.” He looks down at your tank top, almost angry when he sees your nipples poking through the thin material, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything.
Because now, Bucky’s talking. And he’s going to make sure you hear each and every word.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”
A squeak escapes your lips as he presses his body down on yours.
“You think I can’t hear the way your heart rate picks up when I’m around?” His head drops lower, and his voice drops even lower, pulling a whimper from your parted lips. Your mind is spinning as you realize you may not have been as discreet as you thought you were. You entirely forgot to consider the fact that Bucky is a supersoldier, with enhanced hearing.
His rumbling voice cuts through your flurry of thoughts, “You think I can’t fucking smell you?” He practically sneers at you, and you must be a sick, sick person with the way you’re sure you’ve never been more wet in your life. “You think I can’t smell the way you drip from this little pussy every time I walk in the room? Every time someone mentions my goddamn name? I can smell her right now sweetheart. You like me forcing you down don’t you?” His breath fans over your face as you’re forced to focus on him, his body and his scent and his voice overwhelming you. Your body shudders when he gently rocks his crotch against yours, your eyes rolling back into your head.
“What baby? Cat got your tongue now? You were being such a brat to me earlier.” He grunts, squeezing your cheeks and jaw in his free hand as you subconsciously buck your hips against his.
“Bucky please…” You whine, squirming against his impenetrable hold.
He smirks, “what’s wrong honey? You haven’t been this quiet or polite all day.”
“You- you’re being such a meanie! You knew the whole time and just never did anything about it!” You whine, your voice catching in your throat with each languid rock of his crotch angled perfectly against your clit.
He laughs in your face and takes in the sight before him, your head thrown to the side as your chest heaves, your hips moving in tandem with his, your pouted lips swollen from being bitten so often. You were even more gorgeous like this and Bucky didn’t know that was possible.
“I wanted to see if you’d break first. But then, you just had to walk in here wearing this pathetic excuse of a pyjama set. And I just had to have you honey baby.”
You look back at him, a fiery expression in your eyes, “I don’t think that’s the real reason. I think you just wouldn’t be able to handle me. I think you can’t fuck me the way I need to be.” You spit back, not wanting to submit without a fight despite knowing that was exactly the direction this was going.
In an instant Bucky’s metal hand was on your throat, squeezing enough to make your eyes blur for a second as you let out a whimper. “Is that right honey? You think I’ve never dealt with a rotten brat like you before? I know you pretend to put up a fight, I know you’re two strokes away from cumming all over yourself just from a little dry-humping. I know brats like you crave attention, but baby when you finally get it you better not run away? You got that?” He asks earnestly, his eyes locking on yours.
“Do your worst James.”
The second the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. The kiss is unlike any you’ve had before, it’s immediately messy and passionate, his tongue sliding in yours as he takes the lead, swallowing all your mewls and whimpers, finally letting go of your wrists and your fingers immediately go to his cropped hair, tugging on the short strands as he dominates you. You scramble to pull your shorts down but his hands flick your wrists away, giving you a glare.
“Did I say you could take these off, huh slut?”
You whimper and shake your head no, finding yourself wanting to submit to him all too quickly.
He slides his briefs down to reveal his cock. You actually drooled a little at the sight of his length and girth, with beads of pre-cum glistening in the dim light of the room. You can’t control yourself as your hands go to wrap around his length, barely able to hold him in your hands as he hisses, bucking his hips into your hands before swatting them away once again.
“You don’t get to touch honey baby. Not yet at least. You yelled at me for hours today, it really hurt my feelings you know.” He muses, beginning to rub his length against your white shorts that are completely drenched through, your pussy sensitive and responsive. “I don’t think you deserve to be fucked sweetheart. You deserve to have this cunt rubbed on and came on. Just used like a cum rag.” He goes a little further, reading your reaction and when your back arches as much as his beefy body allowed you to, he knows you liked it.
“Please James please I’m sorry, I’ll be good I swear!” You whine, your voice rising in pitch as his bare cock slides up and down the length of your pussy, and even through the layer seperating you, it was euphoric.
“I dunno honey, might have to beg and cry a little more and I’ll see how nice I’m feelin’ tonight.” He smiles cockily, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Almost instantly your eyes are watering as you clutch his biceps, morphing your features into big doe eyes and pouted lips, jutting your chest out in an attempt to persuade him further. “I’m sorry for bein’ a brat and yelling at you. I’m sorry for talking back and- and I need you James. Need you to fuck me please I wanted it for so long!” You drag your sentence and bite your lip, tears spiling onto your cheeks.
He inhales sharply at the sound of your begging, stilling his hips for a moment as he restrains himself from cumming before he’s even seen your bare pussy. And in the next second he ripping your shorts to shreds, making you shriek and you can’t even get a reaction out before he spits onto your already soaked cunt, watching his spit mingle with your own arousal. You moan at the feeling, your hold twitching and practically begging to be filled.
Bucky breathes in your scent since it envelopes his nostrils without any restrictions for the first time. When he opens his eyes again and sees your hazy expression he decides he can’t wait. He’s not gonna take it slow because he needs to feel you clench around him right now. His flesh index finger teases your pulsing hole, shoving the tip of his finger inside you as you whine, legs spreading for him on instinct. “Fuck she’s just begging to be stuffed isn’t she? Just aching to have my cock stretch her open.” He groans, dropping his forehead to yours as you chant breathy yes’s, mouth falling open and tears continuing down your face as he finally spreads you open on his cock.
You have never felt so full in your life. Bucky was absolutely larger than average, in all ways. And it was exactly what you had been craving. He moans as you clench around him, your hole trying to push him out but pull him in at the same time. Before you know it he’s balls deep inside of you, your cream coating the hairs at the base of his length as you moan loudly, uncaring of the fact that Sam and Natasha were just a paper-thin wall away.
Your nails dug crescents into Buckys bulging biceps as he allowed you both a few moments to adjust to each other. “Oh my god Bucky you’re so- I’m so full.” Your words are breathy and slurred, and Bucky presses a kiss to each of your cheeks as he slowly grinds his hips into yours, not fully thrusting yet.
“You know I want this to be more than just a quick fuck. When we get back I wanna take you out, wine and dine you properly.” He whispers against your lips, his hands and voice gentle compared to his earlier disposition.
You nod your head in agreement, “I want that too Bucky, but I need you to fuck me right now.”
He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling almost entirely out of you, allowing your hole to stretch around his tip before he slams into you, making your back arch and all the breath from your lungs dissipates. You squeal his name as he begins fucking into you with little care to be gentle. Your hands scramble to hold on as the headboard slams into the wall with every push and pull of his hips.
“I thought you said I couldn’t handle you honey baby. But look at you now, so stupid on my dick and just taking what I give you.” He mocks you, his metal hand finding its way to your throat once again and squeezing, relishing in the way you cunt clenches against him when he does. You cry out louder than before and he hisses, slapping his palm over your mouth. He grunts through clenched teeth, “shut the fuck up. You want Sam and Nat to hear you crying for my dick huh? What would they say if they saw strong and independent you, stretched open and cock-drunk, pinned under me and crying for me?”
Your eyes clench shut as your words are unintelligible and muffled by his palm. He coos at you and clicks his tongue, making you shiver. “Don’t think too much honey baby, just take it. This is what you’re meant to do, not be a brat. Just take my cock.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts as the sound of skin slapping skin and your wetness squelching fill the room.
Your chest begins heaving as the oxygen to your brain takes more effort to get there. You were being propelled to your orgasm as you begin chanting the fact, your voice so pornographic and unlike your own but you can’t even find it in yourself to be shocked.
“‘M gonna cum, m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum please Daddy please!” The words leave your lips faster than you can process, and what was about to erupt into the most powerful orgasm you have ever had, was left denied and unsatisfied and you cried out, beginning your protests when Bucky flipped you around, your back to his chest as he shoved himself back inside of you. He pulled you up by your hair and brought his lips to your ears, his cock hitting an even deeper angle as you struggled to keep up.
“What did you call me?” He growls, not letting up his thrusts but expecting you to answer.
Your brain struggles to process his words, but once you do you’re quick to realize you let the word you often used in your fantasies about Bucky slip. You immediately apologize, thinking he must be off-put by your lewdness.
He cuts your scrambled apologies off with his heavy voice, “say it again. That’s what you’ve been really dying to call me isn’t it. Just needed Daddy to take what he needed from you didn’t you?”
“Oh fuck.” Your head falls against his chest as he wraps his bicep around your throat, forcing you upright, “yes Daddy, needed my Daddy to take care of me.” You slur out, Your hands clutching his bicep as his metal fingers begin playing expertly with your throbbing clit.
“That’s right slut, I’m your Daddy. I’m your fucking Daddy.” He impales you on his dick, his cock reaching all the rights spots as your brain truly begins to leave you, all you can do is succumb to the pleasure Bucky is inflicting on you. Your pussy clenches harder than it has before as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, you try to run from it but Bucky’s strong hold doesn’t allow you to move even a slither away.
“Oh what does this little pussy clenching mean huh? Tell Daddy baby, tell Daddy what it means when I feel you clench around my cock huh? You gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over yourself like the stupid little toy you are?” His voice is breathless in your ear as he nears his own high, your body shaking as your high begins building to impossible heights.
You slur out something that resembles his title and an exclamation that you’re gonna cum, and his metal hand slaps your clit once, and then twice, his gravelly voice in your ear degrading you, and your high explodes from your body. You feel it everywhere as you don’t register anything except for pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Bucky drops his forehead to your shoulder, muttering your name through clenched teeth as he calls you a good girl, before stuffing you full of his cum. Thick white ropes paint your swollen walls and it only amplifies your high as you struggle to breathe, your mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated as Bucky pumps you full of his cum.
He gently lets you down and your limp body manages to cling onto him, needing to feel him close to you as you reel from your explosive orgasm. He shushes you, kissing your forehead, cooing at you, praising you. Everything you need to avoid experiencing a negative subdrop since he did just put you into such a submissive mindset.
It takes a couple minutes of his tender words and touches for you to come back to yourself, and when you do he smiles sweetly at you. Pulling out of you and shushing your whines, as he reaches over to his nightstand where there were a few clean hand towels, and he cleans you up, mindful of your sensitivity and he places a kiss right above your clit, his beard scratching the sensitive button making you shudder and mewl.
He wraps you up in his arms and pulling you closer, nuzzling your cheek with his nose as you blink at him.
“I was being serious you know, I don’t want this to be a one and done thing. I wanna be yours, if you’ll have me.” He adds, his voice trailing off and you put your hand on his stubbled cheek before pressing your lips to his.
“That’s all I’ve wanted since I first saw you.” You say softly, basking in being so close to him and having all his attention on you.
He smiles brightly, pressing his lips to yours with more fervour and flutters in his heart. “You’re mine now sweetie, stuck with me forever. No return policy.” He teases.
“I think you’re the one who’s stuck with me after you just dicked me down like that. No way am I getting rid of you.” You mumble sleepily, clinging to him as he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and watching you slip into a dreamland state.
For the first time in years, Bucky sleeps a full eight hours. And he wakes up with you by his side.
---------
The next morning, when it’s 9 AM, and you waddle onto the jet, Bucky tailing close behind you, a hand on your back to support your weight, Natasha and Sam share knowing looks, and Sam quickly texts Steve and Tony. He let them know they were on their way, and they owed him and Nat 100 bucks because their plan worked.
There are many things Bucky Barnes is ashamed of, but what just happened between him and you makes him feel physically ill. As he sits on a bench in the gym, his last words to you replay in his head.
“Stay the hell away from me and my girlfriend.”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Even more so after he saw your face fall, your devastated expression breaking his heart. After he slammed your door in your face, he just stood outside, unsure what to do. Then, he heard your broken sobs. Part of him wanted to run to you, scoop you up into his arms, and tell you everything was going to be ok. But after how he’d spoken to you, he doubted you wanted to see him.
Bucky came down here after a sleepless night to punch away his frustrations, but so far he couldn’t do anything but sit, thinking.
You were one of his favorite people in the whole world, his best friend, the person he wanted to see at the start of every day. If he was honest with himself, he had been in love with you since the first time he saw your beautiful smile. But, he knew how much you dreamed of finding your soulmate one day, of building a life with your other half. He couldn’t take that away from you, so he resigned himself to just being your friend. He knew he’d never find a soulmate, but he wanted that for you.
Then, Jenna came into his life. She was sweet, and pretty… someone he could build a future with. Sure, she didn’t quite fit in with his friends, and could be a little controlling, but no one ever said soulmate relationships didn’t have challenges, right?
It hurt that you didn’t seem happy for him, it hurt that you avoided him after he introduced you. He figured you just needed space to adjust, so he didn’t reach out, despite how much he missed you.
What a mess. He couldn’t bear the thought of not having you in his life, but what could he do? Jenna was his chance at love. The universe had chosen her for him. It didn’t seem like you could accept that. Jenna had made it clear last night that she couldn’t be around you anymore after what you’d said to her. She even went so far as to suggest they move out, to their own apartment. He felt lost. He didn’t want to leave you, or Sam, or Nat, but if he refused to move out, where would that leave him with his soulmate?
Bucky remains lost in thought for hours. Finally, he decides he can’t sit here anymore. It’s almost lunch time, he’ll go grab a snack.
He expects to find the kitchen empty, but no such luck. Sam, Nat, Yelena, and Kate are all in there. The energy in the room is tense. Natasha is telling the others something in a hushed tone, when they all notice him come in and go silent.
He’s about to say something, when Yelena beats him to it.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“We know what happened last night. I don’t know exactly what you said to Y/N, but it was bad enough to scare her away. So yeah, you’re an idiot.”
Scare you away? “What are you talking about?” He asks, confused.
“She’s gone, Buck.” Sam’s tone is calm, but Bucky can tell he’s upset. “I walked in on her packing a bag this morning. She told me you had a fight, and that it’s better if she isn’t here anymore.”
A pit forms in his stomach. You left? You didn’t have to leave. He knew he’d been cruel, but he would have talked to you today and apologized. How would he fix this now?
“Seriously Barnes, what the fuck happened?” Yelena was not content to let him wallow in silence.
“We had a fight.”
“Yeah, we got that. About what?”
Bucky sighs, running his hands through his hair, mentally preparing for a brow beating from his fiends.
“She got into it with Jenna. Jenna was crying, she was really upset, so I confronted Y/N about it. I wasn’t in a good head space, I know I was too harsh. But I just don’t understand why Y/N would try to mess with my relationship like that.”
Nat and the others share a look, one with a meaning Bucky is not privy to.
Natasha sighs, and drops a file on the counter in front of him.
“Because she’s not your soulmate, Bucky.”
He’s confused again. “What do you mean? What is this?” He gestures to the file.
“I… We… felt like something was off with Jenna, so I did a background check. She already met her soulmate ten years ago. They were married for a year, then he drove drunk and wrapped his car around a tree. She must have seen your mark and decided to pretend you were a match. I’m sorry Bucky.”
He doesn’t know what to say. Jenna lied. She took advantage of him, and he fell for it. He’d never felt more stupid, yet, in a strange way, he’s almost relieved that Jenna isn’t the one. His relief is short-lived though, as he remembers he destroyed his friendship with you over a fake soulmate, and now you might never forgive him. He had to do something. He had to make this right.
************
Three days have gone by since you left the compound. You didn’t want to leave- the compound was your home, and the team were your family. But, after your fight with Bucky, you couldn’t stand to be in the same building as him and Jenna anymore. You’d packed as much as you could, since you’re not sure you’ll ever go back. You feel broken. For the past three days, you haven’t left your hotel room, and you’re sure you look terrible, but you don’t care. Your phone died yesterday, which is a relief- it was buzzing incessantly with messages from your friends, asking what happened, where you were. You didn’t have the heart to read them all, much less reply. Besides, Sam had caught you fleeing, and you had given him a very brief explanation of what led to your hasty exit. You felt terrible for not saying goodbye to everyone. Once things settled, you would call each of them and explain, but you weren’t up to it yet.
You’d have to get a job somewhere else. A security firm maybe. Or you could become a bounty hunter, that always sounded fun. You decide that today is the day, and you’re going outside. Sitting and stewing in your grief won’t help you.
You don’t go far, just to a diner down the street. You order yourself a coffee and take the long way back, trying to let the fresh air clear your mind. When you get back to the hotel, it’s starting to get dark. As you step off the elevator and turn down the hall, you stop dead in your tracks.
Bucky is sitting there, his back against the door to your room.
He spots you immediately and scrambles to his feet. Part of you is happy to see him, happy he cared enough to come. The other part is still so hurt by his rejection that the sight of him makes you want to cry. You opt to remain guarded.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been texting you. We all have. I was so worried.” He stammers out.
“My phone died. But you didn’t answer my question, James. What are you doing here?” You ask again, keeping your expression blank.
Your use of his given name doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks hurt by your lack of familiarity.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry for how I acted, and what I said. Of course I don’t want you to stay away from me, and I do still want to be friends. You mean the world to me. I was upset, and I reacted badly. Please forgive me?”
A few weeks ago this was all you wanted to hear, that he still cared for you and wanted you in his life. But then he betrayed your friendship. He chose a woman he had just met over you.
“It’s too late, James. I’ve decided to move on.”
“Please no, sweets-“
“Don’t call me that.” You snap, causing Bucky to look startled. You’d never snapped at him before.
“Ok, I’m sorry. I get you’re mad at me, but please, come home. Everyone misses you. I miss you.”
You’re trying to remain stoic, but the anger is bubbling over again. You clench your fists at your sides, and decide you need to let it out.
“So now you miss me, hmm? You were perfectly happy to go about your life with little miss perfect and barely even speak to me for a month, but now you miss me?”
Bucky looks ashamed. Tears are building in your eyes, both from anger and sadness, but you power through nonetheless.
“You were my best friend, Bucky. That meant something to me. Do you have any idea how much it hurt for you to just toss me aside when something better came along? And, to top it off, she’s not even your soulmate!”
“Y/N, I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just wanted to give you space… wait, how do you know she’s not my soulmate?” Bucky is confused as to how you heard the news, since no one has been able to get a hold of you.
“Because I am!” You roughly pull up the hem of your shirt, exposing the half star on your torso.
Bucky looks like he’s been slapped. You imagine that’s how you looked when you saw his mark for the first time. He stares at the mark, eyes wide.
“What… Y/N…” he tentatively reaches a hand out as if he’s going to touch your mark, but stops abruptly when you step back, dropping your shirt.
As quickly as the anger came, it’s gone. You’re left deflated, not sure what to say now. The two of you stare at each other, neither of you sure who’s going to speak next. Bucky takes the lead.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His tone isn’t accusatory, just sad.
“I was going to, the day I got back from that three week mission. But then you introduced me to Jenna, and you looked at her like she made you so happy, and I just couldn’t bring myself to cause you pain.” It sounds dumb now, given how much pain has still been caused.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so blind. I thought Jenna was my only chance at a soulmate, I didn’t see I already had one. I promise, I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this right”
It’s a minute before you speak, but Bucky waits. It’s a lot to process.
“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t just forget what’s happened. You really hurt me. I need some time.”
Bucky lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it. “I get it. I’ll give you whatever you need. But please, move back to the compound. Your family needs you.”
That makes a small smile pull at your lips- you did miss them.
You agree to come home. Bucky insists on carrying all your bags, and you make the drive back in silence. Once you’ve moved back into your room, you’re attacked by Yelena and Kate, who were just waiting to pounce. You laugh as Yelena hugs you so hard your heels lift off the ground. She starts to drill you on the details of what happened, which earns her an elbow from Kate.
“Lena, give the poor girl some space! She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
“Ok, ok.” Yelena rolls her eyes playfully. “Oh my god…. I almost forgot. Loony Jenna is finally gone!”
You knew this of course, but you had yet to hear the details, so you let her continue.
“Turns out she was lying the whole time! She wasn’t his soulmate at all! She already had her soulmate, and she knew it. Bucky was pissed, kicked her out right away after he found out. I swear he almost chased her out the door, it was hilarious.”
So Jenna knew… you can’t help but feel sad for Bucky. You had convinced him to get that tattoo, to be open to a soulmate, and this is what he got. Manipulative bitch.
Not wanting to dwell on she-who-shall-not-be-named anymore, you change the topic. The three of you just hang out for a while, and you’re so glad to be home.
**************
Over the next month, things slowly get back to normal. You go on a few short missions, train, start a bet with Tony on how quickly Pepper will shut down his “child sized rocket launcher” idea. Bucky respects your request for time, but makes sure you know he’s ready to talk whenever you are. He works to earn back your trust in any way he can. You and Bucky had explained to everyone that you were soulmates- strangely, no one seemed surprised. Your heart still aches sometimes, but the pain and sadness you felt has started to fade. You’ll never forget what happened, but you’re starting to feel ready to forgive. After all, you never stopped loving him. And, you suppose, you never will.
The cool night air breezes over your skin as you stand on the roof of the building, enjoying the night sky. You take a deep breath in, relishing in the feeling.
“Y/N?” Bucky calls your name, tentatively as if he’s not sure you’ll let him stay.
“Hi Buck. Come join me.” You wave him over, and he quickly moves to stand beside you.
“That’s where we met.” Bucky nods in the direction of the track, where he’d been running before Sam had grabbed him to introduce you.
You look over at Bucky, and smile. “I remember. I was so nervous, but you turned out to be way nicer than I thought you’d be.” You both chuckle at the memory.
“I saw you standing there with Sam, all optimistic, and I knew I was going to like you.” He pauses to consider his next words, then continues.
“Then, we started talking, and I made some dumb joke, and you smiled… and I was a goner. I thought you were so beautiful, and sweet, and I knew I was going to fall in love with you.” He turns to you, and takes your hands in his. You let him.
“Y/N, there’s nothing I can do to undo the mistake I made. But I need you to know… I have loved you since I’ve known you, and I love you now. I never said anything because I never thought it was even a possibility I could be your soulmate. I am so, truly sorry, and I swear, if you let me, I’ll show you every day what you mean to me.”
A tear rolls down your cheek, and Bucky wipes it away with his thumb, a worried expression marring his features.
“Was that too soon? God, I should have waited…”
“No, Bucky…” you stop him before he can apologize. You place your hand over his, which is still resting on your face. “I’m not upset. I love you too, so much. We both should have been more honest with each other from the beginning. I forgive you.”
He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can I kiss you?”
You answer by pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, but quickly becomes more intense as his tongue finds its way into your mouth. His hands are squeezing your waist, desperate to feel you. You’ve both waited for this for so long, you’re in no hurry to stop. Kissing him is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It’s heated, yet passionate, as if you’re meant for each other. Which, you suppose, you are.
Once the two of you decide to come up for air, you head back inside. You need some alone time with your soulmate. You can’t help but laugh when the team sees you pass by the common room, and they cheer and yell encouragement as you walk by, tucked under Bucky’s arm.
You feel like you’re glowing. And, if the loving expression on his face is any indication, he feels the same. The two of you cuddle up in bed together, talking about all the things you had wanted to talk about for the past two months. As you drift off to sleep in your soulmate’s arms, you know that everything is going to be alright.
THE END :)
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this story! There is an epilogue still to come, and I may do a few drabbles too.
chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. series masterlist. the playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. At least, that’s what you and Bucky keep telling yourselves.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.
Word Count - 4.8k
Author's Note - I can only apologise for the delay on this one angels!! january blues, a crazy work schedule, writers block.. they all came to play at the same time. but chapter seven is finally here!! I hope you enjoy it. thank you for the continued love on this - words can’t describe how incredible it is.
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
“Why aren’t you more surprised?”
Stella simply shrugs, sipping her cappuccino as if she has all the time in the world.
“Babe, with all due respect… I’ve been waiting for you to initiate this conversation for like two months.”
You look at her incredulously, fiddling nervously with a chip in the handle of your coffee cup.
“…Why? How?”
She smiles softly, reaching for your hand across the table.
“You’re miserable.”
You take a deep breath, and then another. After the fifth one, you find the courage to meet her eyes.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know you. You’re a hell of an actress, I’ll give you that.”
“It’s not you-”
“I know. Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I do.”
She waits for you, patient as ever. You’d be lying if you said the guilt wasn’t eating you up, slowly but surely from the inside out. You feel like you’ve let her down, disappointing the one person who’s given you your dream.
You realise, suddenly, that you haven't told anyone the full truth about everything. Not your Mom, not your Dad, not Lacie. Your Tethering, Bucky, the move to California - all your feelings and emotions over the past how ever many months have been bottled up and stowed away on a shelf, never to be opened. But you have the urge, now, to unscrew the cap and pour it out across the table, regardless of the mess.
So, you do.
"It's not you. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, Stel, and I couldn't be more grateful. You know that, right?"
She nods, squeezing your hand.
"It's just been hard... emotionally. So, I, the thing is, I just..."
You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.
"I'm Tethered. I have a soulmate, and he lives back home. We found out literally right before you called me and asked about the business. I couldn't turn you down, I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't just let it pass me by. I knew we could do this, me and you, together. And I thought I’d be able to cope.”
You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.
“Being away from Bucky has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It’s like… I can’t breathe properly without him. Food isn’t as flavourful, colours aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. The separation is actually having physical effects that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”
You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.
“I’ve held out for as long as I possibly can. I was hoping that maybe it’d pass, that we’d get used to it and it’d all wear off. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse than ever. The separation is ruining us both.”
You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to tell me not to apologise, but I am. I’m sorry. You’ve given me everything and I’m just… quitting on you. I love this job so much, Stella. I can’t even find the words to describe how much. But I think either me or Bucky will break soon. And I have to prevent that from happening.”
You inhale.
Stella looks at you with so much compassion, you fight the urge to burst into tears.
You exhale.
“Listen to me, okay? You are one of the best damn bakers I have ever met in my life. No one in culinary school even came close to you. I always knew that I wanted you on my team, by my side, in my corner - in the kitchen, and everywhere else. But-"
You chew your bottom lip, wincing when you taste copper.
“We don’t have to be in each other’s pockets. We can be business partners and not see each other everyday. These are the joys of modern technology, babe. We can call, text, video chat, and then schedule in person meetings when we can. If anyone can make a cross country partnership work, it’s us. I mean, come on.”
The weight lifts from your shoulders, slowly but surely. A glowing, molten warmth trickles through your veins, hopeful and real and alive.
“And this,” she picks up your business plan, all printed and pretty. “This is air fucking tight. I’m not saying you picked the wrong career, but… business could definitely be your Plan B.”
You laugh, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly, still choked with emotion.
“Babe, I was going to franchise the business eventually anyway. Sure, this is a little earlier than I first thought, but why the hell not? We’re successful, we’ve done so well… what’s stopping us? We know we can do this. And I trust you. So much.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, easing your death grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything.”
“You haven’t ruined anything, I promise you. This is a good thing.”
She thinks for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, she grins at you, nosy and mischievous.
“So a soulmate, huh?”
You groan, burying your face in your hands - but you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your cheeks.
“Yeah. It’s been… complicated.”
“He’s that super hot guy that came to see you, right? The one that looks like he could be a model?”
Laughing, you nod, making mental note to relay this to Bucky on the phone later.
“How did it happen? Was it like, a stranger on the street moment?”
“Nope,” you recall fondly. “We knew each other already. He’s my Dad’s best friend.”
Her jaw drops open, eyes flickering across your face.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit, babe.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s amazing. Shit, no wonder you’ve been under so much stress. What did your Dad say?”
“He… doesn’t know.”
“What?”
“We need to tell him, I know we do, but it’s just so complicated. I’m worried that it’ll change everything, and not for the better.”
It’s been eating away at you, lately. The fact that your parents don’t know originally made perfect sense, but now? It’s been almost a year. You’ve never kept anything from them for that long. Now, you’re worried that you’ll never be able to undo the damage of lying and keeping secrets from the two people you always promised never to do that to.
"Look, I know I'm not exactly qualified to give out soulmate advice, but... you can't change this. It's literally been written in the stars. Your parents will understand, okay? But the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it'll be."
“But isn’t that the beauty of it? It’s going to change everything, forever.”
You jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around Stella, holding onto her as tightly as you can. She hugs you back fiercely, speaking a thousand words without saying anything at all.
“Proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair.
“For what?” you laugh.
“Putting yourself first. Your health, your mental wellbeing, all of it. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Love you,” you whisper, fighting back tears of relief.
“Love you too, my baker extraordinaire.”
You sit back down and take a breath, deep and full. Relaxing into your chair, you allow yourself to finally think about the next steps.
“So, I was thinking about going home and scouting out locations. I have that list of places that you read over in the business plan, but I thought of a couple more last night a few miles further out. I’ve pre prepped a few days worth of our best sellers, so you should be good without me.”
“Of course, babe. I’ve circled a couple where I really liked the look of the listings you’ve printed, and written a couple of notes for you to look over - just logistical stuff. Go back home, see your family and your soulmate,” she smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, “and just relax. God knows the stress lately has taken a couple years off your life. Please, get those years back on the beach or with your man or something.”
You laugh, shaking your head. She’s right, though. The stress has been resting stagnant in your muscles, tight and wound, making everything harder. You can’t wait to sit on the sand in Bucky’s arms and feel the tension melt from your body.
“You’re the best, Stella. You know that right?”
“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”
Hours later, Bucky watches you on video call, laptop propped up on the dresser as you pack your bags excitedly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up, anticipation of the future lighting up his bones.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You show up at your parents house without warning.
You thought about calling first, but decided it’d be much more fun to surprise them. It’s a Friday evening, and you know they’ll both be sat out on the back deck, drinking wine and recapping their weeks. It’s getting warmer on the East Coast, the sounds of spring and summer slowly filtering through.
Your Mom throws open the door, her face lighting up with glee.
“Babygirl!”
She throws her arms around you, rocking you back and forth so forcefully you’re worried you might fall over.
“My baby,” she exclaims, beaming grin almost blinding you. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”
She grabs your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes.
“Are you okay?”
You nod, smiling as the setting sun warms your back.
“Yeah, Mama. I am.”
She believes you. For the first time in a long time, you believe you too.
“Come on. Your Dad is gonna be so excited to see you.”
You leave your bags in the car, prioritising seeing the man who’s currently shaking his hips to the soft salsa music that’s playing.
“Nice moves, Casanova.”
He whips his head around, laughing when he sees you stood against the doorframe watching.
“You like em? I need a partner, babygirl! Come on!”
He grabs your hands, pulling you further into the yard so you have more space. You take up a terrible ballroom dance posture with him, cackling as he dips you backwards and almost drops you.
“Don’t kill my baby, please Jack!” your Mom calls from the kitchen window.
She returns with a glass of pink wine in her hand, gesturing for you to come and get it. Your Dad spins you over to her, steadying your shoulders when you trip over his shoes.
“It’s like The Universe knew you were coming to us tonight, darling. We opened the strawberry wine and everything.”
“My favourite.”
You get comfy on the loveseat, sitting across from your parents who are pressed together on the outdoor sofa. The wine is sweet and sugary and exactly what you needed.
“So, what are you doing here, kiddo?”
“It’s a little… complicated. But the good kind of complicated, I think.”
You start at the beginning. Well, almost. You leave out the part about finding Bucky, waiting for him to be with you when you tell that part of the story. You agreed that you’d talk to your parents about your relationship together, and you’re not about to break that promise. You do, however, explain everything else to them.
They listen carefully, nodding and smiling to let you know they’re still with you. When you talk about the difficulties you’ve faced, they wear matching frowns as your Mom fights back tears. Eventually, you sit in silence, waiting for their reaction.
“I wish you’d said something sooner.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I thought I could do it on my own.”
“Honey, you never have to go through anything alone. That’s what we’re here for - we’re like, your built in therapists. Both me and your Dad would have happily listened if you’d called us, no matter the time or place.”
“Thank you. Both of you.”
“So this means you’re moving home?”
You nod, trying to contain the excitement bubbling up inside of you.
“Well it’s a good job we didn’t end up renting your apartment, huh?”
“You didn’t?”
“We thought about it, but it didn’t feel right. And we wanted to see you settle down in California first, just in case. I don’t either of us were ready to see someone else in that place. It’s yours.”
“You big softie,” you tease, nudging your Dad with your foot. He grabs it and squeezes, laughing when you squirm out of his grip.
“Well this is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?”
When you were younger, you used to get embarrassed that your Mom would throw parties for everything. Now, it’s one of your favourite things about her. She’s taught you to embrace the joy of the little things in life.
“What are you thinking, Mama?”
“Tomorrow night, a few friends. I’ll make a big paella, we can drink wine, play cards… what do you say?”
“Sounds perfect.”
And it does. The ease of being back home has calmed you down, untied the knots in your shoulders. You feel warmed by love, from the inside out.
You leave your parent’s house, promising to make a dessert of some kind for tomorrow. As you drive away, you suddenly realise that you’re headed in the wrong direction. You’re not going home. You’re going to the person that feels like home.
Bucky.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
He’s waiting for you on his front porch when you pull up.
“Hi, honey baby.”
“Hi, handsome.”
You launch yourself into his arms, savouring the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He smells like fresh linen and sea salt and all your future plans.
“You felt me coming, didn’t you?”
“From a mile off.”
He’s grinning, beaming in all directions.
“Good job it wasn’t a surprise visit, huh?”
“There’s no such thing anymore.”
“Good.”
He grabs your face in his work rough hands, gazing at you as if you’re the sun. You realise, suddenly, that you are. You are the one thing that his world revolves around. And he is yours. Forever.
“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare at me, hmm?”
He chuckles before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh in contentment and pull him closer by his shirt, tilting your head back to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like scotch and spearmint, a perfect picture of his evening.
“Have you been drinking alone, cowboy?”
“Needed some liquid courage. Knew you’d come by.”
“I make you nervous, huh?”
The filthy smirk written across your face sends electricity crackling across his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up.
“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“You’re really blowing up my ego, you know. I make the Bucky Barnes nervous. Who’d have thought?”
He shuts you up by kissing you again, snaking his hands around your back to plaster your bodies together. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly.
“You’re letting your hair grow.”
“You like it long.”
You stop for a moment, watching his face carefully.
“Yeah. I do. How’d you know?”
“You pull it more when it’s long. Can feel how much you like it.”
“You’re a menace,” you laugh. “How about you take me inside, and I’ll show you just how much I like it? Unless you wanna give your neighbours front row seats…”
He chuckles and shakes his head before throwing you over his shoulder, laughing harder when you start shrieking. He carries you over the threshold, a beautiful prediction of years to come.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You and Bucky spend the evening in his kitchen with the windows open, watching the setting sun. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the room, tussling Bucky’s chocolate brown hair and glinting off the ice in his rocks glass.
“You want me to come with you tomorrow, when you scout locations? I’ll be your chauffeur, if you like.”
“What about work?”
“I’m the boss, baby.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
He kicks you lightly under the table, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.
“Yeah, Buck. I’d love it if you came with. You can use your contractor knowledge and help me out.”
“It’s a date. You want me to bring my clipboard? Tape measure? Mechanical pencil?”
“You gonna bring your talking machinery too, Bob The Builder?”
Bucky stands from his chair and pulls yours out, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He spins you around before putting you down and dragging you up the stairs, kicking his bedroom door open.
He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, chuckling when you almost bounce off. You toss your shirt at his face, before shucking off your jeans and doing the same thing. He catches them with ease, winking at you before undressing himself.
He crawls up your body, kissing any skin he can find as he goes. He starts at your ankle, before moving to your knee, your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, your neck, and eventually your lips. You’re almost shaking, alive with the anticipation of having every inch of Bucky pressed against you.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasps into your ear. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”
“Just want you.”
“Need to get you ready first,” he murmurs, fingers trailing between your legs. His breath hitches when he feels how wet you are.
“Oh honey,” he groans. “You been like this all night? Hmm?”
“Since I first saw you waiting for me.”
He groans again, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
“Please, Buck. Just wanna feel you.”
Who is he to deny you when you ask so damn pretty?
“You’re killing me,” he mutters against your skin.
Bucky slides into you with one smooth thrust, biting down on your shoulder as he does it. You shudder at the feeling, and at the thought of having the imprint of his teeth on you later.
You both gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in to you. You loop your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to press him even closer.
“Fuck me,” you choke out. “Need it, Buck.”
“My needy girl,” he chuckles lowly. “Gonna give you everything.”
Bucky retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, deep and full. You whine, and he’s convinced the sound will never be matched. It’s like angel song, rose tinted and heavenly.
He fucks you into the mattress, long, slow thrusts that make you want to cry a little. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so connected to him - every single part of you touching his, bodies plastered together and souls intertwined.
He presses open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, right into your sweet spot. When he feels you getting close, he dances his fingers down your body and circles your clit, languid but precise. Your back arches as you find your release, clawing your nails down his back and locking your ankles around his hips.
“Oh fuck, honey - fuck.”
Bucky finishes with a shudder, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder. His raspy groans hit your ears just right, sweat dripping down onto your dewy skin.
“Love you, baby. Fuck, I love you.”
You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your highs.
“I love you too,” you giggle, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.
He collapses his weight onto you, chuckling when you groan. You push him off so he can lie next to you, strong arm thrown over your stomach as he pulls you in close.
You stay tangled for a while, letting the breeze from the window cool you both down. Bucky traces absentminded patterns across your back, rough fingertips sending goosebumps over your skin.
“I’m excited for tomorrow,” you murmur, keeping the volume low.
“Me too. Feels like a big step for our future, doesn’t it?”
“I just never imagined I’d have… this. You, the job I’ve always dreamed of… it doesn’t feel real. I mean, we’re going to look at places for a second location of my business. Who ever could have predicted I’d say that sentence?”
“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I told you that, that night on the beach. Before we knew. Remember?”
“I remember,” you smile, recalling that evening. You’d felt so inexplicably connected to Bucky that day. Little did you know what was to follow.
You fall asleep wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, warm and content.
You’ve never known happiness like it.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The day flies by with Bucky by your side.
You’re a little out of your depth, admittedly. You don’t know much about real estate, or what makes a viable location for a bakery. But Bucky helps - explaining what to avoid, warning signs to look out for, checking out all of the boring stuff like gas mains and water pipes and backup generators. He never patronises you, even when you look at him like a deer in headlights. He clarifies himself when you become unsure, laying out explanations carefully and simply. He’s the perfect right hand man.
“You almost ready, honey?”
“Yeah Buck, give me one second!”
You walk into the kitchen where Bucky’s leaning against the counter, beer in hand. He’s in loose jeans and a linen button up, the white shirt beautifully showing off his tanned skin. He’s got several buttons undone, toned chest peeking through. He looks effortlessly perfect.
You stop in front of him, fixing the buckle on your sandals. You look up at Bucky to find him staring at you, open mouthed.
“You alright, handsome?”
“You look… you look - fuck, you look gorgeous.”
Heat rises up your skin, still so susceptible to his compliments.
“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he chuckles into your mouth.
Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, pulling you into him. His other hand plays with the hem of your dress, your skin burning where his fingers brush. You kiss him back harder, groaning when he nips at your bottom lip. He sucks on your tongue, and your knees buckle.
You pull back suddenly, putting three feet of distance between you.
“We need to go.”
Your hair is tousled, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you try to regain your composure. Bucky smirks at you, laughing when you flip him off.
“Come on. My parents and paella await us.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Your Mom has done it again.
Golden lights adorn the beams of the deck, the table littered with flowers and wine glasses begging to be filled. There’s already a few people scattered around the yard, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.
“Oh baby, you look so beautiful.”
Your Mom engulfs you in a hug, pulling back to look at you from a distance. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, form fitting in all the right places. The skirt blows in the gentle breeze, fanning around you like an angels halo.
“This place looks amazing, Mama. I made you a tropical tart - it’s pineapple and coconut, with a mango coulis.”
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ll put it in the fridge and get you some wine, honey. Buck, you want wine or beer?”
“Wine, please Lori. You need a hand?”
“If you’re offering,” she winks, laughing when he pokes her in the side as they leave towards the kitchen.
“Your father says you’re moving back home.”
You turn around to see Cora looking at you expectantly. You haven’t seen her since the incident that evening months ago.
“Uh, yeah. I love California, but I think I outgrew it after culinary school.”
She nods at you in faux sympathy, overbearing and sickly sweet.
“Aw, sweetie. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we hoped, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”
You look for an exit, but she rubs your arm in support, pulling you back.
“I saw you today, you know.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes! Down on Maple, by the corner. You were with Bucky.”
You freeze suddenly, blood running cold. You and Bucky are always affectionate, whether you mean to be or not. It’s just the way it is, being alongside your soulmate. Of course, Cora doesn’t know this. All she’s seen is you, out in town with your Dad’s best friend, looking cosier than platonic.
Your ears are ringing. You wonder, for a second, if you’re experiencing deja vu.
“Yeah, he… he has contracting experience. Just needed a second opinion. I’m no builder, after all.”
You force a laugh, willing the ground to swallow you up.
“You two are friends? You seem pretty close.”
She’s watching you, waiting for a reaction. You don’t give it to her.
“I’ve known him for a while, I see him often. He’s a good friend to my Dad, so you can imagine we know each other pretty well by now.”
“Yeah. It sure looked like it.”
You’re wracking your brain, trying to understand what she saw. Then it hits you.
On the corner of Maple is a florist’s, alive with blooming flowers and plants of every colour. You’d been admiring the tulips when Bucky had wrapped his arms around you from behind, whispering in your ear about how you’re the prettiest flower of all, honey.
There’s no running away from this. She’s caught you, in broad daylight.
“We’re friends,” you reiterate, praying for mercy.
You shoot her a fake smile before turning on your heel, making a beeline for the kitchen to find your Mom. When you get there, you gulp down your entire glass of strawberry wine, begging the sugar to lift your mood and calm your nerves.
The rest of the night goes off fairly smoothly.
You eat paella and fruit tart, drink wine, laugh with your parents and their friends. Bucky occasionally slips a hand beneath the table, squeezing your thigh in silent reassurance. You tangle your fingers with his for a moment before letting go, praying everyone else is none the wiser.
Every time Cora opens her mouth, your chest constricts a little. But she seems to have learnt her lesson somewhat, only speaking to tell obnoxiously long and tangent filled stories and offer comments no one asked for. Eventually, you all disperse from the table, making conversation elsewhere.
“What’s on your mind?” a low voice rasps in your ear.
You’re sat on the swing in the corner of the garden, watching the world go by. Bucky snakes his arm over the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.
“Cora saw us today. Think she knows.”
“She’s a fucking nuisance.”
You laugh, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s bones.
“Yeah, she is. She’s also a gossip. She won’t keep her mouth shut for long if she thinks she’s sitting on something newsworthy.”
He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath.
“So we tell them.”
“So we tell them.”
You lean back into Bucky’s arm, inhaling the familiar scent of peace.
“We should do it as soon as possible.”
“How about tomorrow?”
You nod, biting your glossy lips.
“Yeah. We need to do it sometime, and we’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough. We’ll do it tomorrow.”
Bucky nudges closer to you, so your sides are pressed together.
“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, honey girl.”
You smile gently.
“I know. I don’t think I believed you the first time you said that to me. But I do now.”
“You and me against the world, baby.”
“You and me against the world, Buck.”
It truly feels like it, at the moment. You and Bucky against the world.
Three weeks. Three grueling weeks of recon, fighting, and stealing covert information, and you are absolutely exhausted. Yelena sits next to you on the jet, fast asleep. Thank god you’re headed home. The past three weeks have been an emotional roller coaster, and not just because of the mission. You’ve been obsessing over how you’re going to tell Bucky that he’s your soulmate. You figure it’s best to be gentle but direct, tell him that you share a mark, but that you’re willing to take things slow. And, if he doesn’t want to be together romantically, that’s ok. That last option would definitely break your heart, but you owe him the choice.
As the jet descends, you start to tap your foot nervously. The jet lands, and the ramp opens to let you and a still-sleepy Yelena walk down onto the tarmac. Home at last.
Kate is waiting for Yelena, the couple jumping into each other's arms before heading into the building. It was mid morning, so you’d likely have a debrief in a few hours after you’d both had a chance to clean up and eat something. It’s strange that Bucky isn’t here waiting for you, you always greet each other at the hangar when one of you gets back from a mission. Although, in this case, maybe it’s good he’s not here, it gives you a chance to gather your thoughts.
You haul your bag up to your room, almost at your door when Sam spots you from down the hall.
“Hey! Y/N! You’re back!” He jogs over you and pulls you into a bear hug.
“Hey Sam” you chuckle at his antics.
“I heard you guys kicked ass. Glad you’re home in one piece.” He playfully punches your shoulder.
“Thanks. We did kick ass.” You say proudly. “So, looks like this place is exactly how we left it?”
Suddenly, a slightly uncomfortable expression passes over Sam’s features. “Well, actually…” before he can finish, Bucky bursts through the elevator doors.
“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re back!” He makes his way over to you and Sam quickly, giving you a hug.
“Hey Buck! Glad to be back.” You’re so excited to see him. He seems excited too… very excited.
“Y/N, something amazing happened while you were gone. Come with me.” He grabs your hand and leads you back the way you came.
“Whoa, slow down, is there a race going on I don’t know about?” You laugh as he practically drags you towards the common room.
You enter the room, and see a woman sitting on the sofa. You don’t recognize her. She’s beautiful, and when she sees the two of you enter, she stands and walks over to meet you. Bucky let’s go of your hand as she approaches, then moves to stand facing you. You watch him wrap his arm around the woman, pulling her into his side.
Ok… who the hell is this?
“Y/N… this is Jenna. My soulmate.”
You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. You can’t have heard that right.
“What?” It’s all you manage to get out.
“A few days after you left for the mission, I went to that coffee place you’re always talking about. Jenna was there with a friend, and when she saw my mark, she said it was a match to hers.”
You’re speechless. A match? It couldn’t be- yours was the other half of the star. Jenna takes your silence as an opportunity to continue this sickly sweet love story.
“Yeah, I just saw him across the shop, and felt this incredible feeling, like fate was bringing my Jamie to me.” Jamie? He hates that nickname! “Then when I saw his mark, I knew he was mine.” Jenna lifts up her skirt just a little, exposing her mark, which sits just above her knee. It’s a crescent moon.
“But, Bucky’s mark is half a star…” you trail off, unable to continue with the way your mouth has gone dry.
“I know! Isn’t it cute? Together, we make up the night sky.” Jenna reaches up and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and he smiles lovingly at her.
You’re going to be sick. You feel dizzy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can’t stand to be in this room a second longer. You turn and run from them, needing to make it back to your room as soon as possible. You can hear Bucky calling your name, but you don’t turn back.
Once you’re inside, you lock your door, collapse on the bed, and start sobbing into your pillow. You feel like your heart is breaking. How can this have happened? Your mark is literally the other half of his, how can this woman be his soulmate?
You’re not sure how much time goes by. You eventually run out of tears, and look at the clock. Crap. It’s definitely past time for you to be at debrief. You quickly get off the bed, splash cold water on your face, and change clothes.
The debrief is long, but straightforward. Luckily for you, Yelena notices your uneasiness and does most of the talking. Once it’s done, everyone leaves, except you and her.
“Hey, what’s going on with you?” She questions.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Ok… so your obvious distress has nothing to do with Bucky’s new girlfriend?”
You snap your gaze up to hers. “What have you heard?”
Yelena sighs, as if she doesn’t want to tell you this next part.
“Kate told me. Apparently she’s already practically moved in here. Kate says they’re pretty much glued at the hip.”
You’re starting to feel sick again.
“Y/N seriously, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”
“You know what, I actually don’t feel so good, I think I’m going to lay down.” You get out of your chair and head back to your room. As you leave, you notice Yelena shooting you a sympathetic look.
Once you’re finally in bed again, all you can do is stare at the ceiling. You’re plagued by what-ifs: what if you’d told him before you left? What if Jenna was his soulmate, and the universe had just played a sick joke on you? What if you tell him now, and he hates you for ruining things with Jenna? You can’t stop the questions plaguing you, and settle in for a sleepless night.
**************
It’s been a month since Bucky introduced you to Jenna. Every day for the last thirty days, you’ve considered telling him about your mark, but every day, you chicken out. You’d figured out how to function somewhat normally and do your job, but the pain of losing the man you loved to someone else remained your constant companion. As much as it hurts, your main coping mechanism is to avoid Bucky. Or should you say, Bucky and Jenna, since the two of them are always together. You’d gone from seeing him every day, having movie nights and going out for coffee, to only seeing him in passing. Your heart aches with how much you miss him, but it hurts more when you have to see him looking at her like she’s the most important person in the world to him. But the worst part? Bucky doesn’t seem to care. He hasn’t even reached out to ask why you’re avoiding him, hasn’t bothered to notice your change in demeanor. The rest of the team has- they see how sullen you are most of the time now, how you almost never smile, they notice that you’ve stopped coming to team dinners and movie nights. You’d tried once, but about five minutes in, Jenna started giggling at something Bucky said. They then started playfully wrestling, and you’d had enough. You left, and went straight to bed.
Today, you're headed into the kitchen to make breakfast, when you come face to face with your worst nightmare. Bucky is sitting on one of the chairs, with Jenna straddling his waist. They are making out intensely while she grinds on his lap. It’s like something in you snaps. He must know he’s hurting you. Even if he didn’t know you were in love with him, he knew you loved him as a friend, he knew how much your time together meant to you. Now, he’s just content to ignore you, and throw his new relationship in your face? It feels like he’s saying “I’ve found someone better, so I don’t need you anymore.” If you were thinking logically, you would know that it probably wasn’t his intention to hurt you. But you’re too hurt to think logically right now.
“You have your own room you know.” You say loudly, a heavy dose of snark in your voice.
The pair look at you in surprise. Jenna doesn’t even look embarrassed, and makes no move to get off Bucky’s lap. You turn around and start putting water in the kettle, when you hear movement behind you. Bucky comes to stand at your side.
“What was that about?” He asks quietly.
You roll your eyes. “The last thing I want to see in the morning is you and your girlfriend doing foreplay while I make breakfast. You could be literally anywhere else.”
Bucky opens his mouth, then closes it, as if he’s surprised by your attitude. Further proof he hasn’t been paying you any mind over the last month. Before he can respond, Jenna joins him.
“That’s ok Jamie” again with the fucking ‘Jamie’. “We were about to go back to our room anyway.” That last part is directed at you. You swear she gives you a smug smirk as she pulls Bucky along with her, back to their room. He shoots you a confused look as he leaves.
You’re so lost in thought, you don’t hear Natasha and Yelena come in. Being the intuitive spy she is, Natasha immediately notices that the vibe is off.
“Hey.” She greets you with a soft smile, as if she’s worried you’ll startle and flee.
You offer a forced smile back to acknowledge her greeting. You turn back to your tea, hoping to continue wallowing in peace, but Natasha isn’t going to let that happen.
“Y/N… I know there’s something going on with you, and I want you to know, whatever it is, we’re here for you.” You know Nat’s just trying to be kind, but you don’t have faith in yourself not to cry if you have to talk about this.
“I’m fine, guys. Just tired, I haven’t been sleeping well.” That, at least, wasn’t a complete lie.
“Not sleeping well my ass.” Yelena scoffs. The two of you are close, and she can always read you like a book. “It’s Jenna, isn’t it?”
You turn and meet her gaze. What do you do here? Do you confide in your friends, and risk your true feelings making their way back to Bucky? Before all this, you would have said with certainty that he would always stand by you, but he’s so absorbed in Jenna, you’re not sure anymore. On the other hand, keeping this inside is killing you. You take a deep breath, and opt for both- you’ll share your feelings, but not your secret.
“Look, I want Bucky to be happy, but she’s so clingy with him, always with him, calling him ‘Jamie’ which I know he hates. It feels like I lost my best friend.” You let out the breath you’ve been holding in. It feels good to be able to voice a few of your thoughts, even if it’s just the tip of the iceberg.
“First of all, I thought I was your best friend” Yelena shoots you a pointed look and Nat laughs. “Second of all, you haven’t lost him. He’s just obsessed because she’s shiny and new. Soulmate or not, he’ll realize he’s being an idiot and wants you in his life”
God, you hope so. You may have been the one to avoid him first, but it still hurts that he never even tried to talk to you about it.
Before you can respond, Sam joins the three of you, obviously having just come back from a run based on his clothes.
“Good morning my favorite kick-ass ladies. What are we talking about?”
“How much Jenna sucks.” Yelena quips, earning an amused look from both you and Sam. It only lasts a second though- much to your surprise, Sam has something to say on the topic.
“Yeah… if I’m being honest, she’s not who I pictured for Buck.” Sam takes a sip of water, and Nat takes the opportunity to probe for info.
“Why’s that?”
Sam takes a second to consider his words. “Honestly… she’s kinda isolating him. I mean, I get they’re newly matched soulmates, but it seems like she’s always trying to get him alone, like she doesn’t want him to talk to anyone without her there. She’s made no effort to get to know any of us. Plus, there was a weird moment the other night. Tony got tickets to the football game, Buck wanted to go, but apparently Jenna wasn’t feeling well, and he just had to stay home and look after her. She looked fine to me.” Sam grumbles the last part.
That’s because she’s not his soulmate. You think sadly to yourself. But, if what Sam is saying is true, maybe they aren’t so happy together after all?
“Has he said anything to you, Y/N?” Sam asks. Clearly he assumes the two of you are still talking.
“We aren’t really talking right now.” Sadness creeps into your voice as you say those words, and Sam looks at you knowingly, as if he sees your pain.
You have reports to file, so you excuse yourself and get to work. You spend the rest of the day in an office upstairs, feeling a sense of relief that the rest of the team isn’t as starstruck by Jenna as Bucky is. It gives you a strange sense of validation.
After a long day, you’re walking down the hall towards your room, your steps the only sound breaking the all-encompassing silence. All you want is to get to your room, your safe space where you can drop your mask, but apparently the universe has more sadistic things in store. Who should come around the corner towards you, but the soulmate-stealer herself, clad in a skimpy robe, feet bare. Your hopes that you can just walk by her without speaking are dashed as she stops right in your path.
“Hey, Y/N. I was just grabbing some water. You know, super soldier stamina and all that.” She looks very pleased with herself.
“Look, I’m really tired, so if you’ll excuse me…” you try to keep moving, but she doesn’t get out of the way.
“Are you tired? Or just jealous?” There it is again, that smug fucking smirk. You knew you weren’t imagining it earlier.
“Excuse me?”
“Please”, she scoffs, “you think I’m stupid? I see how you look at my Jamie. It’s obvious you have a thing for him, and you hate that he’s mine now. He told me you two are really close… or you were, before he found me. But trust me, you should just get over it. He has his soulmate now.” She looks you up and down, the way a teenage mean-girl would. “Besides, it’s not like he ever would have loved you back anyways. You seem like kind of a loser”
You’re speechless. Jenna has balls, you’ll give her that. Unfortunately for her, she has underestimated how upset and hurt you’ve been for the past few weeks, and how much repressed anger is boiling inside you. Anger that’s about to find its target.
You step closer, getting in her space. When you speak, your voice is level, but cutting.
“Listen to me, you stuck-up asshole. I know Bucky better that you ever will. Yeah, I love him, and yeah, he doesn’t love me back. But I will always have a connection with him that you can’t touch. You can sink your claws into him, convince you that you’re the one, but I know the truth. You are not his soulmate. And eventually, he will figure that out.”
Now it’s Jenna’s turn to be speechless. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Next thing you know, she bursts into tears and runs towards Bucky’s door. Great, now he’ll really be pissed at me. At least then he might finally talk to you.
God, that felt good, you think to yourself as you finally make it to your room. All you want is to climb under the covers and play games on your phone. Unfortunately, you only get a couple minutes to yourself, before a loud harsh knock sounds against your door.
You pull the door open and are faced with a very angry looking Bucky. Before you can say anything, he’s storming into your room.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’s fuming. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this mad.
“Look, if this is about what happened with Jenna just now, I’m sorry I was harsh, but she went after me first. I’m sure tomorrow she’ll forget all about it.”
Your statement does nothing to placate Bucky’s anger. “You told her I was going to leave her.”
“That’s… not exactly what I said.” You say awkwardly.
“It’s what you meant. And now she’s back in our room, crying. What is your problem, Y/N? Are you really so jealous that I’m not watching movies with you every night that you’re trying to destroy my future happiness?”
Is that what he thinks? That you’re trying to destroy his future happiness? If you were trying to do that, you would have told him the truth weeks ago.
“Buck, I’m not trying to destroy anything. I’m sorry, I really do want you to be happy.”
“If you want me to be happy, keep your distance from now on.”
It feels like you’ve been punched, hard. He can’t mean that. You feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you hold them back.
“You can’t mean that. Bucky, we’re friends. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, I promise I won’t attack Jenna again.”
“I thought we were friends too. But friends don’t try to get between their friend and their soulmate.”
The dam breaks, and you can’t hold it in anymore. “She’s not your soulmate Buck! I-“
“Enough, Y/N!” He interrupts you, raising his voice. He’s never talked to you like this before. Then again, he’s never been mad at you before.
“Jenna is my future. I was hoping we could stay friends, but clearly not. Stay the hell away from me and my girlfriend.” With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
It’s as if a molten blade has been driven through your sternum, and someone is twisting it. You rub your chest hard, trying to distract from the pain. It takes a second for you to fully absorb what he just said, but when you do, your legs can no longer hold you up, and you crumple to the ground. You begin to sob uncontrollably, your broken cries echoing around the room. You thought the last month was hard, but it turns out that being outright rejected by your own soulmate is something else entirely. You’ve literally been shot before, and this is worse.
You have no idea how long you sit on the floor. Exhaustion eventually takes over, but you can’t sleep. You just sit on the floor, your back against the bed, staring ahead but not really looking at anything. Numb.
A/N: I know, this chapter was very angsty... bear with me!
Bucky will have a lot of grovelling to do to make up.
I get my he’s so enthralled with Jenna, he was born in 1917 and thought his soulmate ship had sailed so when he found someone he didn’t slow down to think. He just fell into a honey trap of thinking he’d finally get something he thought he lost forever.
She’s clearly toxic and very good at what she does but it’s super cruel of her to fuck with his mind especially after what he’s been through with Hydra. I really hope our reader doesn’t abandon him, purely because of his past and the fact that he’s going to need her support who knows what this will do to his mental state.
I’m mildly anxious reading this as I’m really not good with unhappy endings or endgames that aren’t with my best guy…
dededos
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
2087
snowghoul
stormborns
