Pairings: mafia!best man!Bucky Barnes x moh!Reader, bride!Natasha Romanoff x groom!Steve Rogers
Summary: Your best friend Natasha is marrying a man whose world you don’t understand. At her extravagant wedding, you’re just trying to blend in — until a pair of blue eyes finds you from across the aisle. James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s right hand, watches you like you don’t belong here… and maybe like you do.
Word count: 3.2k+
Warnings and tags: Mafia au, bestman x maid of honor, slow burn (but with instant attraction), tension and flirting, mentions of criminal activity, power dynamics, implied violence, mentions of alcohol.
A/n: Heyy! I'm back. But not really. I'm still kind of in that hiatus. This is for my 1k followers celebration!! Thank you all for being so kind and liking my stories and following me. I really had to write this for you guys, I couldn’t leave you guys hanging.
This is my first time writing mafia!bucky so please cut some slack😅. Anyways enjoy <3
Header made by me, divider: @enchanthings
And yet all your eyes could focus on was her. Natasha, radiant in ivory, her hand steady in Steve Rogers’ grasp as they faced the priest. You stood to the side, bouquet held loosely at your waist, chin lifted with quiet strength. You weren’t scared, even if everything about the setting warned you to be.
The petals scattered along the stone aisle shifted with the wind, delicate against the stark perfection of the Roman-style courtyard. Everything about this wedding screamed opulence: the marble columns, the low hum of strings echoing beneath the archways, the armed men in expensive suits pretending to be guests.
You were here for her.
So when you felt it — a tightening in your chest, like someone had just stepped into your space without moving an inch — you tried to ignore it.
But curiosity won.
Your gaze slid subtly across the stage.
And froze.
A man stood near the groom. Not in the usual sleek, designer sense of every other guest, but in a way that felt... still. Coiled. Sharp.
Mid-thirties, maybe. Short dark hair swept back. Black suit tailored to a body that could do more than just fill it out. His stance was patient, but there was an intensity in his posture that spoke of violence, barely caged. His eyes were on you.
Not glancing. Not skimming. Pinned.
You turned away, heart skipping. Your fingers curled tighter around the stems of your bouquet. Ignoring his gaze.
Across the stage, Bucky Barnes tilted his head slightly.
He hadn't meant to look at you. Not at first. But the moment he did — the moment your dress caught in the breeze and your eyes flicked up like you felt him — he couldn’t stop.
He’d never seen someone like you in this world. You didn’t move like the others. Didn’t scan the perimeter. Didn’t flirt or flaunt or pretend. You were strong without posturing. Present, not performative.
And stunning.
You looked at Natasha the way Bucky once looked at Steve. Like loyalty was oxygen. Like you'd die on a hill no one else would climb for her.
And he couldn’t stop watching you.
Not because of the dress, though God, that dress was doing something dangerous to his focus. It was the way you wore it—like it was for no one. Like you didn’t need it to be seen.
You laughed softly when Nat whispered something in your ear, and Bucky watched your nose wrinkle, the quick tilt of your head, the way you elbowed her back just enough to be affectionate and mildly threatening. And that’s when it hit him—You were real in a world where everything felt carefully arranged.
And it messed with him.
Bucky had been around women who knew what he was. Who leaned in because of it. They touched his wrist with manicured fingers, eyes flicking toward the men who nodded when he entered a room. They liked the suit, the danger, the command.
But you didn’t even look at him that way. Not once.
And that unfamiliar absence of attention had his mind spinning more than any brazen stare ever could.
You were magnetic, and you didn’t even know it.
The kind of woman a man like him shouldn’t touch. The kind of woman a man like him might ruin just by being close. But he couldn’t look away.
He didn’t know your name yet. But he already knew the way you moved through a crowd—like you were grounded when everyone else was performing their power. He saw it in the way you stepped aside so an older staff member could pass with a tray, offering a thank-you with a smile that didn’t feel obligatory.
You didn’t know the weight of the room you were standing in. Didn’t flinch when a groomsman slipped a pistol under his tailored jacket before walkingup the stage.
And maybe that’s what caught him hardest of all—You were the softest thing in a brutal place. And yet, somehow, you belonged.
Not because you were like them. Because you weren’t.
And Bucky… Bucky had spent a lifetime wading through the grey trying to remember what light looked like. And suddenly, there you were.
His fingers twitched at his side. He needed to know your name.
The officiant’s voice broke gently over the hush of the courtyard.
“You may now exchange your vows.”
It was a beautiful day. Warm sun, soft breeze, flowers draped in tasteful whites and greens. The kind of wedding only one can dream of.
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—beneath all the tulle and champagne flutes—was off.
Not wrong exactly. Just… off.
Too still. Too controlled. Like the calm before a storm that never quite hits.
You felt it in the way no one spoke above a murmur. In the way the servers moved too carefully. In the way certain men—broad, suited, eyes like glass—stood just outside the hedges, pretending to look at the sky.
It was subtle. Quiet. Like a layer of glass laid over everything.
And maybe no one else noticed. Maybe no one else cared.
But you weren’t used to weddings feeling like chessboards.
You shifted slightly, adjusting your grip on the bouquet, eyes drifting instinctively toward Natasha. She looked radiant. Focused. At peace, somehow.
You were proud of her. Happy for her. Still, your fingers tightened just a little around the stems.
And then you looked up. Across the aisle. Across the altar. To him.
James Buchanan Barnes.
You’d heard the name whispered hours before—low and clipped, like it came with a warning.
You hadn’t meant to look again, but something in your chest had stirred the second the officiant spoke, and now your gaze found him before your brain could offer a reason.
He stood just behind Steve, dark suit crisp, jaw set, eyes steady. He didn’t flinch when you met his gaze. Didn’t pretend he wasn’t already looking. He just… watched.
Not like a man trying to get your attention. Like a man who already had it, and was curious what you’d do with it. It wasn’t predatory. Wasn’t even overtly flirtatious. It was calm. Measured. Quietly certain.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because the longer he held your gaze, the more the world around you blurred. The vows, the guests, the champagne bubbles catching light. All of it dulled under the weight of his eyes. Your mouth went dry.
You glanced away quickly, heat creeping up your throat. Forced yourself to focus on Natasha, who was reading now—soft and honest, her voice dipping slightly when she looked at Steve.
You wanted to be there. Grounded. Focused. But that strange feeling hadn’t left your body.
Like you’d stepped into something delicate without realizing it. A web. A trap.
Or maybe something else entirely. Something watching you from across the stage, with eyes like frost and fire and far too much patience.
Inside the estate, everything was warm light and shadows. Chandeliers threw gold across crystal glasses and polished floors. Laughter clinked like cutlery, elegant and practiced, and you kept close to Natasha during photos and speeches.
But you knew he was still watching. And he was. From the far end of the ballroom, Bucky leaned against a pillar, eyes trained on the way you smiled politely at men you clearly didn’t want to talk to. He saw how you scanned the room before moving — not in fear, but instinct.
He noticed how you tilted your glass to avoid lipstick on the rim, how you crossed one arm protectively over your stomach during a toast.
You weren’t from this world. But you were built to survive in it.
He wanted to speak to you. But not with an entourage watching. Not with loaded glances and Steve’s subtle smirks behind his whiskey glass.
So he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
You slipped out onto the terrace sometime before sunset, heels clicking softly against the stone. The evening air was cooler now, brushing against your skin like a secret. You leaned forward on the carved railing, glass still half-full in your hand, letting yourself breathe for the first time all day.
You were proud of Natasha. You were. She looked happy. Really happy.But something about all of this made your instincts hum.
Still, you weren’t scared.
Not until you felt it again. That pull. Like gravity shifting in your direction.
“You always this graceful, or is it just a ruse?”
You straightened slowly, your hand still resting on the stone. And there he was.
Up close.
You didn’t let your expression give anything away. Not the way his voice felt like it slipped down your spine or how good he looked when the setting sun caught the sharp edge of his jaw.
“You always this forward,” you asked, tilting your head, “or is this just for me?”
His mouth curved. “Just for you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I’m trying to fix that,” he said, stepping forward, slow and unbothered. “I’m Bucky.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do.” He smirked. “Smart girl.”
You sipped your drink, letting him watch your mouth. “You’re used to women falling at your feet, huh?”
“I’m used to women trying,” he replied, gaze lazy, voice low. “But I’ve never had one look at me like you do.”
Your brow arched. “And how do I look at you?”
“Like you’re not impressed.” His smile widened. “It’s messing with my head a little.”
You gave him a slow once-over. “Maybe I just have high standards.”
He laughed — warm, surprised. “Yeah. I figured that out the second I saw you walk down that aisle.”
Your heart stuttered.
“I almost missed the vows,” he added, a little more under his breath. “You in that dress? Christ.”
You weren’t the blushing type, but the heat at the back of your neck betrayed you. You turned slightly, so he couldn’t see the full effect. “Do lines like that actually work for you?”
“They’re not lines if I mean them,” he said simply. “And trust me, sweetheart — I mean it.”
Sweetheart. You hated how good it sounded coming from him.
You set your glass down on the ledge. “Is hovering on balconies your thing when you see someone who might bite?”
He grinned — sharp, teeth barely showing, but his eyes never left yours. “I like the ones who bite. Means they won’t break.”
“You testing me?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. The distance between you disappeared in a breath. “I already know you’d pass.”
You stared up at him, a little dizzy from the nearness, from the quiet confidence in his voice — like he could command a room with a whisper and not even break a sweat.
Your lips parted. “Maybe you’re the one getting tested.”
“Maybe I like that.”
A beat passed. The silence between you wasn’t awkward — it was charged. Like a string stretched taut between two hands.
He offered his hand. “Dance with me.”
You looked at it. Then at him. “I’m not one of your girls.”
“I know.”
“I don’t say yes just because I’m supposed to.”
His head dipped slightly, smile almost reverent. “Say yes because you want to.”
You let your gaze drift from his eyes to his mouth, slow and deliberate. “You planning to behave?”
“I’m planning to make it hard for you to walk away,” he said, eyes dark. “Is that misbehaving?”
Your laugh was quiet but real. “Guess I’ll find out.”
Your heart thumped, traitorous. But your feet moved anyway.
The ballroom was dimmer now, the chandeliers above casting golden puddles of light that flickered with every movement. The guests were beginning to drift back from the courtyard, taking their champagne glasses with them, filling the room again.
You stepped onto the floor with him, letting him draw you in, one hand slipping to your waist with practised ease, the other curling around yours with surprising gentleness. He smelled like cedar and cold air. His frame was broad, immovable, like someone built to shield or destroy, depending on the moment.
Your chest brushed his. Not quite touching, but close enough that you felt the tension in the space between you like a live wire.
It was quiet between you for a beat too long.
Then, as he turned you with precision, he murmured, “You don’t move like the others.”
Your brow lifted slightly. “Is that your opener?”
“No,” he said, tone thoughtful. “It’s just an observation.”
You tilted your head. “And how exactly do I move?”
“Like you’re not trying to be seen,” he said. “That’s what makes it hard not to look at you.”
Your breath stilled. Just slightly.
He was good. Not rehearsed. Not charming in that empty way most men were at weddings. This felt… specific. Like he actually meant it.
And God help you, your stomach tightened in response.
“You practice that?” you said, playing it cool.
He leaned in slightly, his voice a breath away from your cheek. “Do I seem like I need to?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Because just then, you felt it. A shift. In the air. In the room.
You couldn’t explain it — the sudden hush beneath the music. The subtle way conversations lulled. How, one by one, eyes began to flick your way.
You didn’t know these people. But you weren’t stupid.
The tuxedoed men near the back wall? The ones who hadn’t touched a drink all night? The ones scanning the room like it was a chessboard and they were waiting for a piece to move? They were watching you.
No—him.
No. You both.
You swallowed, trying not to let it show on your face.
“What is this?” you said under your breath. “Why are they—”
“They’re not used to seeing me dance,” Bucky said simply.
You looked up at him sharply. “And why’s that?”
His mouth quirked, not a full smile. “Because I don’t.”
You wanted to step back. But his hand was still at your waist, steady, unrushed. Like you weren’t going anywhere unless you wanted to. And maybe… you didn’t.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Who are you?”
“I’m just the best man,” he said, gaze steady. “Same as you’re just the maid of honor.”
“That’s not what this feels like.”
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
He spun you smoothly, letting your hand glide along his shoulder as you turned, then caught you again just as the beat shifted. The world tilted slightly with it.
Your voice dropped. “They’re watching us.”
“They always watch me.” His voice was calm. Controlled.
Your heart thudded, unsteady now. He dipped his head closer. His lips almost brushed your ear. “I know what I look like. I know what I do. But I don’t lie. And I don’t pretend.”
You turned your face to meet his, close enough now that your breath mingled.
“I’m not scared of you,” you said.
“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I haven’t looked at anyone else all night.”
You blinked. Heat spread across your cheeks.
The song wound down, notes growing softer, slower. But neither of you moved.
The rest of the room blurred at the edges — glittering laughter, clinking glasses, the soft swell of music — all of it dimmed like someone had lowered the volume just for you two.
He was still watching you, his gaze a little too steady to be casual. A little too fond.
You arched a brow. “You always stare at people like that? Must be my lucky night.”
“Just you,” he said easily. “The others flinch.”
You bit back a smile. “Charming.”
“Dangerous,” he corrected with a half-smile, voice low and smooth. “Apparently.”
You hummed, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know. So far, you’ve been more polite than the cake guy.”
That startled a quiet laugh from him — real and unguarded. You felt the sound vibrate in the air between you, felt it in your chest a little too much.
“Didn’t peg you for funny,” he said, eyes still locked on yours.
You gave him a mock-hurt look. “Wow. I was so close to letting you buy me a drink.”
“I don’t want to buy you a drink.”
“No?” you asked, feigning offense. “Then what do you want?”
He dipped his head slightly. Close. Confident. “Another dance. At least.”
Your breath caught before you could stop it. Traitor.
But your voice stayed cool. “Careful. I might say yes just to make the room stare harder.”
“They already are,” he murmured. “Let ‘em.”
You glanced over his shoulder — caught the way the dark-suited men near the walls were still watching. Sharp eyes. Stiff postures. Definitely not here for the shrimp cocktail.
“Friends of yours?” you asked, like you weren’t studying their positions out of the corner of your eye.
“Colleagues,” he said, like that answered everything. “Mostly bored. One of them bet I wouldn’t get a dance.”
“And now?”
“Now he owes me dinner.”
You tried not to smile again but failed. “And what do I get?”
He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering it.
“My attention. For as long as you want it.”
You blinked, surprised by the weight of that answer.
The music shifted, and the spell thinned just a little. But he was still close, still watching you like you were a puzzle he didn’t mind spending the rest of the night figuring out.
You didn’t know what you were doing. Not fully. But for the first time all day, you weren’t pretending.
And neither was he.
From the corner of the ballroom, Natasha watched you spin beneath the golden light — dress swaying like spilled silk, your laughter trailing just above the music.
And across from you, solid and still and terrifyingly transfixed, was Bucky Barnes.
Steve’s best man. The one with blood on his hands and ice in his veins — except, somehow, not right now. Not with you.
His touch was careful, precise, like he didn’t trust his own strength. Like holding you too tightly might break something neither of you could name yet.
But his eyes — God, his eyes were anything but careful. They tracked every movement you made. Drank you in like a man who hadn’t seen softness in years. Like you were light in a world that had long stopped being kind.
And you — you didn’t even know.
You didn’t know what kind of room you’d wandered into. What kind of empire you were dancing in the center of. You didn’t recognize the glances, the nods, the silent tension that cracked like static between the suits lining the walls.
You didn’t see the way conversations stopped when Bucky looked at you. How no one dared step in.
But maybe that was the beautiful part. Because you moved through the chaos like it wasn’t chaos at all. Like you weren’t surrounded by criminals in tuxedos. Like the man holding you had never ordered a hit or buried a body at 3 a.m.
You laughed in his space. Teased him. Challenged him.
Natasha smiled to herself, slow and sure. Her fingers curled around the stem of her glass.
You had no idea what you were walking into.
But Bucky? Bucky already knew.
And she could see it written in the way his hand lingered at your waist. In the way he leaned in when you whispered something that made him smile.
He wasn’t going to let you walk back out.
Thank you for reading!! Like and reblog np. See you soon. I'll be lingering around in my blog even if I don't post anything 😙
This belongs to @daxisyzz don't copy or steal my work.
summary: 5 incidents in which Bucky gets proven how lucky he is to have found you.
word count: 6.7k
warnings: MDNI, fluff, mobster typical themes, illusions to violence, more fluff, cursing, talks of marriage, starting a family etc., pregnancy, phantom pain, allusions to smutty time, slight dirty talk, my Google Translator skills for all things Russian, children, not perfetly proof-read
author’s note: Am I in my mobster era now? (Please don't try to strangle me when I butchered the Russian parts. I had only Google Translator as my trusty helper ;_; Dividers are made by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics!
Russian translations:
малышка (malyshka)—baby
милая (milaya)—darling
“Every day I wake up next to you, I pray to the gods and thank them for the love you give me. Every day I spend with you is more than I deserve. Every day I call myself lucky that you love me back, my dear. I love you more than anything in the world, more than the world, more than life itself. You are my everything. Thank you for making me the happiest man on this planet.”
“Should I stop telling you how good you feel around me? How good you take me? How perfect you look, all filled up with my cock and already pregnant with my baby?”
The first incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes—fearsome crime lord, bratva leader, king of New York City’s underworld—found himself in the aftermath of a crossfire after a deal gone south. His doctor had just arrived to check out the gunshot wounds littering his arm and shoulder, and in his opinion, everyone made too much of a fuss about it.
He was fine. He made it out with barely any scratches.
“Nine gunshots, only one bullet I have to remove. This is a new record, Mr. Barnes.”
… a few scratches; he had to give him that.
On the other hand, his entire left arm had been reduced to nothing but a pile of scrap metal, so perhaps Bucky had been hit rather badly if he took that into account. He wouldn’t because he had to be okay, invincible even. The world he was born into was a cruel one that reprimanded one’s weakness with downfall and despair, and he had to uphold the legacy that had been bestowed upon him the moment his father took his last dying breath in the same car crash that had taken his arm. He had people to protect—his associates, partners, workers, everyone that he considered friends or even family.
Topped by only one person, one woman, who sat above them all on a throne he had created for her right next to his. Not beneath him, not a step below—right fucking next to him.
Speaking of which… The commotion outside their bedroom sounded a lot like the whirlwind he deemed to be the love of his existence, and cursing above his breath, his eyes moved a second from the slightly opened door toward the doctor holding the single bullet between a pair of forceps.
“Don’t you dare step in my way.”
Her voice rushed like opium through his veins, making the mobster forget about the burning pain of holes inside his body.
“I can’t let you in there. Not now. The doctor is with him, you don’t want to see that,” Steve’s voice echoed through the hallway, probably stacked with high-towering security men. Just as high-towering as the blond was, and still, his girl did not show fear. No, not her. Never her.
A scoff was heard, and the physician beside him chuckled under his breath as he started to clean the wounds meticulously. Even Bucky showed a rare hint of emotion around other people than her when a grin parted his lips for a moment. “You’re his second. He is his doctor. I am his girlfriend. Think again if you want to continue standing in my way, Steve. I’m not above using brute force to get to him.”
Hearing that from a woman stopping not even close to all their eye levels would be laughable with any other person, but her? Everyone knew she would move heaven and hell in order to get wherever he was. He had learned this the hard way and would never dare leave her behind again, not when she demanded to tag along.
She really is a wonder.
Bucky wasn’t sure if he had spoken those words out loud, his mind starting to struggle with the blood loss and pain seeping deeper than necessary into him.
Shuffling before the door made the brunet open his eyes again. “Fucking hell, woman…” The hardwood door opened, and he could see the woman ruling his world without even starting to grasp the extent of her power over him, turning toward his second in command. “I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers,” she spoke sweetly before she finally turned, her eyes immediately finding him on their shared bed.
Worry creased her forehead, brows deeply furrowed, eyes jumping from his shoulder to his injured arm, then right to the one missing. Without another heartbeat, she rushed through the grand but still cozy room, showcasing her taste because Bucky had let her redecorate this entire fucking house as soon as she had agreed to move in with him—after much persuasion on his part. He wouldn’t have given a fuck if she would’ve decided to paint every single wall a screaming yellow if it would’ve made her happy.
“Hey, милая.” His raspy voice from all the shouting broke a bit at the signature endearment for her, and he wished to reach a hand out to her, but the lack of his arm was jarringly apparent. So all he could do was watch her carefully settling down onto her side of the bed, scooting over the mattress, a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek while the pad of her thumb started to caress his cheekbone. “Hey, love,” she returned the greeting with a smile, worried gaze flicking to Dr. Strange. “How bad is it? And don’t you dare try to sugarcoat me like Sam bloody tried on our way here. I do possess eyes, you see that, right?”
Dr. Strange nodded while preparing the stitching material. “I have removed one bullet from his shoulder. Nine shots in total. I’ve cleaned them and will stitch them as soon as the anesthetic takes effect.” Bucky could see her nodding at the doctor’s explanation and tried to nuzzle closer into the palm of her hand. “Milaya?” She finally looked down on him. “I’m okay, ‘promise. They busted m’arm, though.”
His words turned slurred, slowly but steadily, and he focused on her soft smile that was always entirely reserved for him and baby kittens. He could live with that sort of competition.
“We will talk later, but I promise I’ll take a look at your arm, and in case there isn’t anything left to save, I’ll make you a new one, James.” She pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his sweat-covered forehead. “Now relax, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Her voice echoed in his ears when the drugs finally kicked in, clinging to the sound of her.
Yes, he had been smart enough to ignore his stupid rule of not letting anyone get closer than necessary. She proved him right every damn time.
The second incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was on a regular day in December. Snow fell softly outside the grand brownstone they had chosen to spend the holidays at rather than the house outside the city. His girl had wanted to finally spend Christmas in the buzzing city again, and he had ordered their things packed and moved within a blink of an eye.
Now, everyone enjoyed their little piece of heaven surrounded by their families. Yelena and Natasha had returned to Russia for the holidays, Steve spent time with his own wife, while Sam had decided to go south to see his parents and check in with a few associates while he was already there.
Meanwhile, the feared bratva mobster, leader of the darkest pits of New York’s underworld, watched his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée add a few more pieces they had picked up at Tiffany’s today to their Christmas tree, humming to the soft tunes of an old record wafting through the living room. His blue eyes, usually so menacing and threatening, rested with a loving expression on the woman he had sworn to protect with his life, one arm thrown over the back of the comfy couch he had spent a fortune on—but his queen fell in love with it at first sight and couldn’t find anything better suiting. Not that she had to. The shining black Centurion Card had been pulled out of the inside pocket of his black suit jacket the second Bucky had seen that look on her face.
He would buy her anything in this world, spoiling her rotten until she’d drown in pretty things.
“I think we need more lights,” she stated in a mumble, almost to herself, before turning toward him. “Don’t we? We need more lights, yes.” And so it was decided, and he smiled at her turning back when she started to roam through the red holiday box to find the last remaining string of colorful fairy lights. “No, wait.” Lifting a dark brow, the man watched her reach for the small package he had eyed since they’ve returned instead, all wrapped prettily and neatly.
Scooting across the soft carpet toward where he sat, his girl smiled up at him, holding the small present out to him before folding her hands over his muscular thigh, waiting patiently. “It’s not your Christmas present, but I saw it and… and I needed to do this. To have something for our tree.”
Their first real tree as a couple. The past three years, they had been too busy during the holiday season, barely being at home, not to mention the little time they would’ve had to go out, find a tree, and decorate it, so it would be appreciated as it deserved. This year, however, Bucky craved the comforts of their home, and he wanted to start collecting memories like this.
He bent over to her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, hand cupping her cheek tenderly, the little gift almost vanishing in the vastness of his hands. “Thank you, моя милая.” How in all the hells had he become so lucky in finding this woman who now grinned up at him with unabashed happiness? “Open it! Open it already!” And he obliged, feeling giddy himself as she almost bounced on her knees, unwrapping the small box and opening the lid to reveal a perfectly crafted snowflake ornament, a picture of them together in Central Park during the worst snowstorm the city had witnessed in over a decade placed inside the clear crystal. Their smiling faces, almost hidden behind scarves and beanies, angled to one another, her lips pressing a snow-filled kiss to the corner of his smiling lips.
It was perfect.
She was perfect.
Gods be damned, but in that moment, when his eyes found hers again, he felt the overwhelming urge to drop down on his knees and ask for a lifetime together. But he wouldn’t. He had it all planned out, and he used to stick to his plans. He was patient beyond compare, but not when it involved this woman before him. So instead of caving to this sensation, Bucky carefully placed the crystal snowflake onto the coffee table in front of him and pulled his girl up into his lap in one smooth motion, wrapping her in his strong arms, fingers—both flesh and metal—tangling in soft strands of hair or gripping the soft black fabric of the hoodie she wore which once belonged to him.
“Каждый день я просыпаюсь рядом с тобой, молюсь богам и благодарю их за любовь, которую ты мне даришь. Каждый день, который я провожу с тобой, больше, чем я заслуживаю. Каждый день я называю себя счастливчиком, что ты любишь меня в ответ, моя дорогая. Я люблю тебя больше всего на свете, больше мира, больше самой жизни. Ты — мое все. Спасибо, что сделал меня самым счастливым человеком на этой планете, малышка,” Bucky rasped in Russian with his forehead pressed to hers and eyes intimately locked, watching the shy smile he loved so dearly spreading on her lips and making her eyes twinkle.
“I don’t know if you have insulted me just now, proclaimed your undying love for humble me, or started the dirty talk earlier than usual, but either way, I don’t mind.” Her fingers wrapped around his chin to pull his face closer to hers, lips touching when she added in a breathless whisper, “It sounded hot, so keep talking dirty to me, love.”
Giggling, his girl accepted the tender kisses of chapped lips to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips. He felt the uncomfortable pull on his skin again when Bucky smiled at her, his split lip still not entirely healed after a punch he couldn’t dodge in time. Under her care, it will have vanished until next week when the photographer planned to take a few pictures for their first Christmas postcards.
Bucky still struggled to grasp how his life had turned in that particular manner. He never thought he’d be one for domesticity and familiar bliss, but with her?
He was all in.
The third incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes, invincible mob boss, returned home in the dead of night in a frantic temper, his entourage strolling behind him, accepting his orders with grave faces and solemn nods.
“Don’t let him out of your fucking sight. Track him as soon as he leaves his godforsaken home, track him inside his own walls, hell, track when he takes a piss. I don’t fucking care!” His booming voice echoed through the foyer, and with another deep growl, he handed his weapons to Sam; two remained in the holster, hugging his broad shoulders. He wouldn’t take them off, not until the threat was decimated under his foot. “We’ll do a 24/7 surveillance on him, boss. He won’t come near her,” Steve promised, knowing damn well what would happen to all of their heads if they couldn’t protect her.
Bucky bared his teeth in disgust. “You better not fuck this up, Steve.” This would be his first and only warning, and the blond knew that, so he nodded and retreated into his office, knowing damn well that sleep would be nothing but a pleasant memory for a while—he wouldn’t be alone, though. Everyone knew how their boss got when his queen was threatened by others. Those threats had already started to grow in numbers as soon as the underworld learned of their engagement, and outsiders trying everything to get in and on good graces with certain families smelled a quick victory.
How wrong they were in those foolish assumptions.
Sam watched his boss almost anxiously while he desperately tried to cool off, fists pressed against the pretty surface of a pretty sideboard she had most definitely chosen.
“I will kill him. I’ll kill them all if I have to.”
At Bucky’s deep rumble, Sam could only hum in agreement. He would be right at his back, killing all who wanted to harm anyone he cared for, especially those inside this building.
“I could reach out to our associates in Louisiana, get some more backup and gunpower. There’s this kid who’s a marvel with tech. Maybe he can come up with a discreet solution for the in-house surveillance,” Sam suggested, knowing damn well how excited Parker would be when he finally allowed him to tag along, currently bored out of his brilliant mind at college. Bucky looked up and over his shoulder, icy blue eyes resting on one of his best men—and friend. But the creaking above their heads let him pause in his answer, and both men stared up the stairs, knowing who eavesdropped at the railing.
Bucky sighed deeply. “We need to work on your stealth skills, малышка,” he spoke up and waited for her steps to pick up and for her to shuffle down the stairs. She did in a pair of cozy yoga pants, a large hoodie hanging on her form—the one he had worn before changing into his suit this morning—and fluffy socks with reindeer and candy canes printed all over them, her hair wrapped in a messy bun on the top of her head, strands framing her face. In her arms throned a king amongst pets, and white fur littered the soft fabric of his hoodie where she held Alpine close to her chest.
His heart ached at the sight of her in the best possible way.
Her eyes wide with worry—not for herself, but for him and all his men—jumped between Sam and himself as she reached the second to last step and waited there.
“I didn’t mean to, but… I heard voices and thought you’d come home, but then I heard everyone talking and it was kind of too late to go back to bed anyway, so I figured I could… learn a bit.” Bucky started softly shaking his head, his outgrowing hair tickling his cheeks. “You meant eavesdropping, малышка. That’s the word you’re looking for here,” he deadpanned, and one corner of his mouth slightly lifted at the sound of her quiet laugh, her fingers comfortingly petting the white fluff ball currently purring at the attention and headbutting her hand for more.
With another sigh, he stepped up to the stairs, raising his gaze to his all-ruling queen, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slightly disappear when her hand came up to his neck and rested there comfortingly, fingers playing with the soft strands of his dark hair. “I’ll be alright, James,” she whispered, and he wasn’t sure how she could say that with such certainty when not even he felt so sure. “We’ll be alright, I just know it. Nothing and no one will keep me from you, from becoming your wife and living a very happy life with the man I love more than anything in this world, giving him the cutest fur babies and children the world has ever seen.” Bucky sucked in a breath, and after gently putting down Alpine, he pulled his soon-to-be wife in a bone-crushing hug, wrapping her legs around his hips with ease. “We will live until we turn old and grey and can look back at all the memories we made along the way, annoying our children and grandkids with endless, embarrassing stories,” she continued to whisper against the soft, tattooed skin of his neck and yes, he could see all that and more, too.
It was easy with her to picture this picture-perfect life—and he would do anything to make it a reality. He wouldn’t stop at murder and anarchy, not when it came to her.
So when he slightly turned to Sam with his woman in his arms, ready to put her back to bed, he only needed to mouth the words, and it was done.
Do it.
The fourth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was during one of those forsaken nights.
He woke with a startle and a groan escaping him involuntarily, the dark bedroom embracing him, a soft, warm body tucked into the expanse of his back, slow breathing fanning across his heated skin. His hand shot up with another groan leaving him, cupping the stump where once had been an arm, feeling the same agonizing pain he had felt in that car all those years ago, almost bleeding to death after a rivaling family had tried to kill them all off.
Unfortunately, he had survived—and the revenge had been brutal the moment he had recovered enough to go on a killing spree.
Trying to breathe through the crashing sensations, Bucky tried to move as quietly and carefully as possible, not wanting to wake the woman sleeping peacefully beside him because she needed all the rest she could humanely get. But the pain was blinding, the feeling of warm blood flowing down his skin so real, he could’ve sworn there was still an arm to lose, and his fucking legs were still tangled in the damn blanket!
With a frustrated huff, the mobster tried to just roll out of bed in a desperate attempt, not minding falling face-first to the floor, but the blanket didn’t budge, and suddenly, an arm snaked across his waist, and a warm hand rested on his muscular abdomen.
“D’not go…”
The sleepy mumble pierced through the agony, and usually, Bucky always obliged to his wife’s every demand, but not now. Not this time. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t crumble in front of her. She needed him to be strong and capable. He had to protect her and the little plum. He couldn’t show weakness, not even in the comforts of their own home. Word would get out, the pit of New York City would smell blood, they would come and kill her in front of his very eyes, make him watch when the life would vanish from her breathtaking eyes, taunting him, before they would end his life as well, releasing him into the bliss of afterlife where he would search for her, and—….
“Bucky? What’s wrong?”
Her voice, now sounding more awake and aware, startled and pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he could feel the mattress dip and move when she sat up and scooted closer to him. “Hey…” A soothing hand started to rub over his back. “Talk to me, love. C’mon, handsome, I can only help when I know what’s bothering you to such an unholy hour.” Her teasing made him almost smile—almost. But the pain returned in full force, and his hand gripped his shoulder even tighter.
“Phantom pain. It’s nothing I can’t handle, malyshka. Go back to sleep, you need it,” he rumbled quietly, his legs finally escaping the trap that was their blanket, and the man sat up, feet hitting the floor. He attempted to get up in order to leave her to the quietness of their room, but his wife had nothing the like on her mind. She held him back and scooted off the bed. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” Blinking into the dim light of her bedside table, he reached for her and tried to get up. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Go back to—”
She shushed him gently and pressed a finger to his lips. “I said Stay. I mean it.” With that, his woman granted him a serious glance before she patted into the adjacent bathroom, one hand cradling her already quite prominent bump, and all Bucky could hear was rummaging sounds in their cabinets and a quiet mumbling.
“Your papa is a handful sometimes, little one. Prepare yourself because I need you in my corner, okay? Okay.”
Smiling through the irritating pain, the mobster waited for her to return and watched her closely when she finally left the bathroom and patted back to their bed, a bottle of lotion in her hand. “You think you need the mirror, love?” Bucky glanced at the full-length mirror in their walk-in closet shrouded in darkness and decided with a soft shake of his head. “Maybe later if it’s not getting any better,” he mumbled in defeat, accepting the loving kisses pressed to his right temple and lips. “Just let me know, yeah?” He nodded at her request, and blue eyes watched her like a hawk when she settled right next to him, on the side of his missing arm, a squirt of lotion already between her soft hands warming it up.
“I told you to wake me up if it’s happening again,” his wife scolded him quietly, her incredible hands massaging the hurting stump of his shoulder. At first, it hurt like hell, but the more she kneaded and caressed, the more bearable it got. “You need your rest, milaya,” he returned with a lingering glance down her form, eyes equally heavy with worry and love when they settled on the little bump he had grown to love so dearly, it almost hurt.
Bucky felt her eyes on him in return and opened his arm when she stopped what she was doing to climb into his inviting lap, straddling him comfortably. Taking his hand into hers, she pushed the warm skin of her husband under his shirt she wore to sleep and placed his palm right on top of the soft curve before continuing.
“Not more than you need it, too. You’re running the mob empire, not me.” Her voice reminded him softly, and he let his forehead fall onto her shoulder, eyes closed, thumb caressing the warm skin of her bump, hoping, praying, he would feel something, anything. But according to all the books he had read so far, it would take a few more weeks until he could feel the slight movements their child did inside his wife. “And you’re growing a whole fucking human,” Bucky returned and got shushed again. “Watch your language, Barnes. I don’t want their first word to be anything obscene.”
But she couldn’t fool him. He heard her smile in the scolding.
A comfortable silence settled between them, then, reminding Bucky yet again why he had felt so good around her the second she had walked into that room in the hospital, only raising a brow at the sight of six buffed men clad in black suits, armed with more guns than one human could possibly need, and him sitting in the middle of it all—disheveled, still hurting, ice cold. She had smiled, wearing those ridiculous blue scrubs, and he had spotted a splash of blood on her light grey sneakers when she had come closer, pointing it out in almost something resembling disgust. Still, she only had rolled her pretty eyes at the pitiful attempt of an insult.
She hadn’t given a single fuck about those intimidating men—including him—all towering multiple heads above her, tattooed, guns always visible, the rough Russian language floating through the room occasionally. And he had respected her for that, even though he didn’t bother to be nice at first. In hindsight, Bucky would’ve earned a beating from his mother if she had been still alive. She had raised him better than treating a beautiful, kind, intelligent, and compassionate woman like he had initially treated her. But after a while, Bucky had felt how she had snaked her way into his thoughts, catching himself repeatedly thinking about her over the course of his day, starting to anticipate the next appointment to get his prosthetic measured, built, and adjusted, always looking forward to seeing her face.
She hadn’t given a flying fuck either when he finally revealed who he was and what he did, only cocking her head to the side in question and asking him, “Will you or one of your guys kill me after our time is over?” And when he had shook his head, denying those thoughts, she had smiled brightly, before turning back to the prosthetic arm she had crafted for him. “Then we don’t have a problem. Everyone has to earn their money somehow, James.” That was also the first time anyone had called him by that name since his parents had died, and he had fallen for her right then and there, ready to kneel at her feet and surer as hell that he would make her his queen.
“Don’t count on that, malyshka. Everyone around here is using filthy language, and do I need to remind you of certain… situations where the little plum currently has to listen in? Or do you want me to stop? Мне перестать говорить тебе, как хорошо ты себя чувствуешь рядом со мной? Как хорошо ты меня принимаешь? Как идеально ты выглядишь, вся заполненная моим членом и уже беременная моим ребенком?” He felt the pain slowly but steadily subside under her knowing and well-versed hands, feeling them stop in their magic as the huskily whispered Russian words flowed effortlessly over his lips, feeling her squirm in his lap.
Leaning slightly back in order to have a better look at his face, his wife bit her lower lip, making now the feared bratva leader squirm underneath her, his hand protectively pressed into her lower back, not daring to let her fall off of him. “You are a very evil man, James Barnes,” she hummed with almost a purring edge to her voice, making him grin as cocky as possible. “You married the worst of the bunch, malyshka—and you like it. You can’t hide it, not from me, never from me. Not when I’m balls-deep it that deliciously tight…—” Her lips pressing against his made him moan deep in his throat and stop taking altogether. Forgotten was the pain of the past. It still bothered him, somewhere in the back of his mind, but her scent, her taste, the feeling of his wife against him made him forget about it.
The past was the past, and now, only the present and the future held importance to him.
Lifting her with one arm with ease, the mobster carefully moved her to the middle of their bed, hovering above her and watching her pretty face with a loving gaze. “You’re my everything,” he dared to whisper. “You both are.” He felt her hands cupping his face tenderly as if he wasn’t the killer everyone feared across the East Coast as if he was something precious even though he was broken beyond repair. “And you are ours, Bucky.” She kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his left shoulder without disgust, without apprehension, but with deeply felt love.
As if he was perfect the way he was.
The fifth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was after a business trip to Sicily that had taken too long for his liking, even though the business was good and the newly knitted connections invaluable. But it had made him leave his family for far too long than humanly tolerable, not even the many FaceTime calls had eased the sting in his heart.
“Make sure Enzo receives the gift for his wife and put a little something for him inside as well. Perhaps the Yamazaki Single Malt?” The 55-year-old whisky sure would make a fine gift for the young leader of the Sicilian Mafia, remembering an evening here and there when both men had shared a glass of scotch.
Steve walked beside him as they left the car and made their way over the sidewalk and behind the gate of the old brownstone in the best area in New York City. The cherry trees along the road were in full bloom, and the spring breeze was pleasant enough that the Barnes considered taking them all out for a day in Central Park. Work could wait after two weeks away from them. “Sure thing, Buck. I’ll call Stark to get a bottle,” the blond nodded and opened the door for his boss after walking up the stairs before entering the family home as well, happy sounds wafting through the air already.
Bucky visibly relaxed when he heard his family without a phone between them and handed Steve the concealed guns. They had made a rule for the house, and everyone obliged happily because everyone had been wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born.
And no one would dare to go against Mrs. Barnes.
“I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of weeks, so handle everything and only bother me with situations that need my explicit attention,” was the last order the mobster could get out before the sound of small feet erupted from the living room and barreling toward the foyer.
“Papa!”
“Dada! No, waits for meeee! Annie, pwease! Mommyyyy!”
Bucky laughed as his eldest rounded the corner in full sprint, her little legs carrying her as fast they could, and the tall brunet crouched down to catch her little body. The little girl, resembling so much his wife, looked at his face with bright eyes, hands pressing against his cheeks and squishing them with an adorable chuckle.
“Привет, папочка,” she greeted him shyly, stumbling over her sounds and pronunciations, but Bucky kissed her little cheeks with such enthusiasm that her insecurities vanished in an instant. “Привет, солнышко,” the father returned with a kiss to her forehead and watched the questioning expression morphing onto his daughter’s face. Her tongue poked out between her lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling, brows drawn together in concentration—just like his wife. But then, she looked at him again, leaning closer as if she wanted to conspire with him. “What does that mean, papa? Yelena didn’t teach me that word yet,” she whispered, and Bucky laughed again, feeling almost crushed by the happiness he felt at that moment. “It means sunshine, my sunshine.” It made her smile as brightly as the sun outside the windows before she waved at Steve. “Hi, Uncle Stevie. You can go now. Papa is mine; you can have him back in… a long time.”
Nodding to underline her case, the almost six-year-old looked expectantly at his second in command, and Bucky turned with her still in his arms, looking just as expectantly as her. “You heard the little lady, Steve. Off you go,” he teased, and the blond shook his head with a smile, bowing before them. “As you wish, Princess Anastasia.” The girl huffed and showed the blond giant her tongue. “It’s Anya, Uncle Stevie! You always forget!” Chuckling, Steve took her hand and shook it apologetically. “You are right; my apologies, princess. Enjoy your time with your father.”
And with that, he left for his office, leaving the two in the foyer when they heard another set of steps.
“Anya, next time, wait for your brother, please,” Mrs. Barnes scolded the little girl gently, a smile on her lips and the little boy on her arm. His son nodded, holding his stuffed bunny at its long ears. “Yesh, waits for me, Annie! Dada!” More excitement echoed through the home as the small boy started to wiggle in her arms, and Bucky rushed over to her, catching Elijah before he could plop out of her embrace. “Careful, little troublemaker,” he laughed and held him with his other arm, hearing Anya scoff quietly. He threw his wife a questioning look, and in return, she only rolled her eyes at their children, softly shaking her head and taking Anya to her.
“They had a… falling out earlier.” Anya scoffed again as if her mother understated the entire ordeal, wanting to be put back on her feet, and hugged her mother’s hips closely. Elijah leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder, bunny pressed tightly into his chest, watching his sister. “He ruined my homework! Miss Pepper said she’s suuuuuper excited for my solar system model, and then, papa, Eli just banged his stupid bunny on it!” Angry tears gathered in her eyes, almost rolling down her pretty face. His youngest looked positively undisturbed as he watched his sister unraveling over her homework, and Bucky sighed.
“Bunny s’not shtupid. Annie’s plant-… plants-… planets! Annie’s planets looks ugly, dada. Not pretty like mommy,” Elijah stated with confidence, making the tears finally spill over Anya’s cheeks. “I hate you! You’re not my little brother anymore!” And with that, the little girl pulled away from the soothing hands of her mother, almost tumbling over the stairs as she ran upstairs, a loud bang echoing through the house when she closed her door with force.
Another sigh escaped Bucky and his wife alike, both parents looking down at their little boy who started to chew on his bunny’s ear. “Honey, that wasn’t very nice to say,” she reprimanded her son and took him from Bucky when he stretched his little chubby arms toward his mother, keeping a hand on his little back. “Annie is sads?” She nodded and kissed the dark mob of hair her son had inherited from his father, just like the blue of his eyes. “She’s upset, baby, yes. We will give her a moment to calm down before we’re going upstairs to apologize, yes?”
Elijah nodded with tears in his eyes, and the father couldn’t hold back, so he gently cupped his youngest head and pressed a lingering kiss onto the wild dark curls. “Can me and bunny asks Miss Melina fors cookies?” Smiling, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before putting him onto his small feet. “But only one, baby!” He was already on his way, chanting for cookies.
In an instant, Bucky pulled his wife into his arms, capturing her lips with his, a rumbling moan escaping him at the taste and feel of her. “Two fucking weeks are too long, malyshka,” he stated with another lingering kiss, fingers tangled in her hair. “Tell me about it. Try to manage two kids who switch between being the bestes of friends and each other’s enemy number one multiple times a day.” Taking her in more closely, Bucky could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tight muscles around her lips. His thumb swept across the dark circles, and his lips followed to kiss them better. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he murmured with another kiss to her forehead and felt her hand hitting him against the back of his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had to be there, and we had to stay here with school for Anya and Eli’s first day at kindergarten. We managed. I wouldn’t mind if you take over bedtime duty for a while, though.”
Bucky grinned happily at the prospect of spending time with his kids, feeling the love only a father could feel coursing through his body. “Of course, love. We’ll get you something nice on our stroll over Fifth and let the kids play in Central Park while you enjoy a book, alright? I’ll pick up a few new bedtime stories as well, so you will not even be remotely needed and can enjoy bath after bath. Would that make my wife happy?” Sighing, she leaned heavily against him, gathering strength through his strong body supporting the weight resting on her shoulders during the worst and most exhausting days—which they have had many in the past two weeks. “Sounds lovely. But don’t you dare spend a fortune on me again!” Her warning was unnecessary because Bucky would spend a fortune on his wonderful wife, and she knew that as well. “Please,” he chuckled and pressed another heated kiss to her lips, his fingers cupping her chin tenderly. “I’ll buy whatever you want, milaya. Perhaps we could even get something for us.”
He loved his wife in pretty clothes, but he loved her especially dearly in pretty lingerie he had no qualm of ripping off her gorgeous body the second she’d appear before him, reducing the masterfully crafted pieces to lacy shreds on their bedroom floor. The first time he did that, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to pull her to bed, receiving a scolding he had gotten the last time, probably as a boy. She had been royally pissed at his antics, mourning the pretty set she had bought for their first night together. The next day, she received a delivery of all the pieces she had eyed at the shops and saved online, making her closet filled with more lingerie than a regular woman would need in her entire life.
Only that she wasn’t a regular woman with a regular man. He could buy her anything and in any quantity possible, so he wasn’t one to hold back when the urge to see this goddess of a woman naked made him growl and impatient—and even a tad jealous of the fabric touching her skin instead of his hands and lips.
“You are the worst of the bunch, Barnes. Seriously.” Exasperated, she looked up at him, her cheeks warming under his touch, and Bucky nodded with a serious expression. “I am insatiable when it comes to you, malyshka. And you thrive on the power you have over me.” Eye-rolling, she shook her head again, winding out of his arms and smacking his ass with a teasing smile. “Stop being a seventeen year old horndog and move your sexy backside up to your daughter. She’ll listen to you more than me after two weeks filled with my constant presence. I’ll see what I can save from her project, and stopping Elijah from munching on too many cookies…”
The last part was barely a mumble, already distracted by whatever thought wandered through her beautiful mind, and Bucky watched her retreating back with a smile before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Throwing it over the stair railing, he made his way to his eldest’s room, softly knocking at the door littered with pictures and posters of her favorite animals and characters—he could even see the remnants of a glitter pen—and knew how lucky he could count himself when he was allowed to enter his sunshine’s room.
He had the perfect wife, two healthy, wonderful children, and had found happiness despite the way his life had taken.
He had indeed chosen wisely.
author's note: Tysm for reading my silly little writing. As usual: likes, reblogs, and comments are so much appreciated! I love to read your thoughts <3
Run For Your Life (❤✘): he was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: stalking tendencies)
Passionfruit (❤✘): you spend a well deserved lazy day with your mafia husband and son… plus Bucky getting a little handsy. (@kurogxrix)
Look Don't Touch (❤): you accidentally walk onto your husband and his men during a meeting, clad in nothing else but a tight-fitting top and a baby in your arms. The sight is enough to send the many men drooling, but Bucky reminds them that you’re only his to look at, and will always be. (@kurogxrix)
The Alchemy (❤❅✘): about a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart? (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, possessive behaviours)
4 Minutes (✘): you and Bucky had limited time to spend intimately during the past few days, leaving you both extremely sexually frustrated. When your son’s occupation offers you 4 minutes of free time, Bucky’s damn adamant on making your legs shake in less than 3. (@kurogxrix)
Protector (❤✧): ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with. (@cherryrogers) (warning: mild violence, assault, stalking, mentions of illness, death)
Honey, There Is No Right Way (❤❅✘): when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him. (@bonky-n-steeb)
A Love For The (P)ages (❤): Bucky might be the baddest mob boss in the city but he’s the softest and sweetest husband in the Universe. (@jobean12-blog)
Stealing Hearts (❤❅✘): his mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. (@sinner-as-saint)
Come Home (❤✘): Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you… (@sinner-as-saint)
I Am Your Fall (❤❅✘): you’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because… he would find you, and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you, after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. (@sinner-as-saint)
Fallin' For Ya (❤): Bucky finds himself standing in front of your door with a bouquet of roses, wondering when he’s ever allowed his stone-cold mafia heart to fall in love with you. (@kurogxrix)
Yours To Wield (❤❅✘): with the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war. (@sinner-as-saint)
Lover Boy (❅✘): it's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky. (@cryptidcasanova)
Starting Over (❤❅): when Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending. (@sashaisready)
Guard Dog (❤❅): Bucky doesn't take too kindly to people hurting his wife. (@auroralwriting)
Adore Her, Dior Her (❤): what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves? (@queers-gambit)
Ending, Beginning (❤❅): after months of physical therapies, Y/N was finally back in town and ready to jump right back into business as usual. Bucky, however, disagreed; he didn’t want her anywhere near the club anymore. (@leascorner)
The Threat of Intimacy (❅✘✧): a beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made. (@darkdemeter)
Bad Romance (❤❅✘): in Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his. (@samthemarvelfan)
Promises (❤❅): when your parents are murdered in cold blood, you turn to the most feared man on the east coast for answers. (@preciousbarnes) (warning: graphic depictions of murder)
Suite Spades (✘): at the club where you danced it wasn’t unusual for you to have regulars, they were normally gross married men but there was one regular that stood out from the rest, your favorite. a grumpy ‘business’ man with a black metal arm. (@lostalioth)
My Devotion (❅✘✧): the one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well. (@cryptidcasanova)
new! The Alps (✘): why would you spend a full day skiing when you could stay in bed in your chalet doing something much more productive??? (@catharsisfalls)
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
pt 2 -> control
two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite.
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.
and then there was a knock at the door.
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
ᡣ𐭩 fic recs m.list . bucky barnes m.list two
Wedded Bliss | @gutsby
The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.
Bad Romance | @samthemarvelfan
In Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his.
@anonymityisfunwriter
Two Sides of the Same Coin
You're Losing Me
Your fairytale ending is crumbling before your eyes. You don't know how to love someone who can't tell you're dying. You fear you're fading away, begging him to do someone, say something, choose something. You fear he won't be able to resuscitate you this time. This time, he's losing you.
Alone Together
It was always been you and Bucky, alone together, you'd say. But suddenly, you're just alone.
Uptown Girl and the Brooklyn Boy
Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.
For the Love of the Game | @pellucid-constellations
Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.
Friday (I'm In Love) | @barnesafterglow
every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too
@sinner-as-saint
Tempestuous
With his kingdom flourishing in peace, and no threats from enemies; recently crowned King - James Buchanan Barnes sets out at sea. With his finest ship, the best crew ever recruited, and a deep desire to see whether the edge of the world truly exists; the King sets sail. Hoping to find the marvels of the ocean, to find beauty and magic even; however he ends up finding a fiery soul – one he cannot get enough of. But then again, no love story is ever perfect, is it?
Ruin
You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you.
A Sweeter Place
Years after a messy break-up, and now seeking stability, infamous mob boss James Buchanan Barnes finds himself reunited with an old flame of his. Instant guilt and regret wash over him when he finds out that his reckless ways back then, changed an innocent girl’s life forever.
Run For Your Life
He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.
All Yours
One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting...
@mellowsaturns
In Losing Grip, on Sinking Ships
when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.
All to Myself
after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him
Redemancy | @renxzs
Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.
@cryptidcasanova
My Devotion
The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.
Loverboy
It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.
She's Not Mad | @subwaysurf45
Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.
@adrinktostopyourthirst
Sniper
Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.
Three Hundred
Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?
Variant
The chaos of the multiverse is quite literally holding up a mirror to Bucky. Turns out, it's very easy to get under someone's skin when you have a universal connection to them.
Underground
The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.
One Shot
Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.
Satisfied
Drunk sex with Bucky.
@thenhewaswrongaboutme
Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes
Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger.
Time Out
Need me a boy who is so needy and whiny when he cums inside for who knows how many times, and yet he still begs as soon as he's done "please, please again? I'll be good, I-I swear, I just need it so bad, just one more baby I promise–"
@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
After All This Time
impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.
Why Are You At The Wake?
Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.
The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me
A hurtful article in a low-budget gossip magazine throws your relationship with Bucky for a loop.
Get You Back | @noceurous
You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.
Honey Girl | @violentdelightsandviolentends
The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
@notafunkiller
You Were Just Mine Yesterday
it's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.
Out Of Style
A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.
Curiousity Killed The Cat | @queers-gambit
after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
I Loved You Once | @cherryblossom-heart
Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.
@rookthorne
Purity
Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried - the wings of a dove taking you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.
His Girls
Cars were all the same to you — classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same. Well, they were, until you were nonetheless forced to visit your local mechanic and saw the man that would pique your interest in not only every single make and model of classic car, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.
Hollywood Boulevard
All it took was one night, one song - hell, one note - and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn't help but follow him anyway - he was irresistible, after all.
You're Gonna Give Me Six | @boxofbonesfic
Mean It | @gogolucky13
You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.
Almost Believing | @intrepidacious
You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.
Please | @buckybarnesdiaries
Bucky needed to be spoiled.
@buckys-darling
Face The Sun
To ensure the prosperity of their two kingdoms, a determined Princess and reluctant King are to be wed. She is willing to commit, but he can’t seem to let his lover go.
Will You Love Me Tomorrow?
You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.
Electric
Flirtation has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn't last long when it comes to you.
Kiss It Better | @straywords
You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.
Fifteen Minutes | @little-miss-dilf-lover
The Feeling's Mutual | @bucksfucks
the amount of times you and bucky have seen each other masturbating is alarmingly high. might as well do it together.
@ellemj
Bigger Than He Was
Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.
Strawberries
Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?
Breathe
Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.
Flustered | part 2
Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.
Inevitable
While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.
Blurred Lines
When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.
Does It Hurt?
Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.
Red | @viixenvi
You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.
Self Care | @ro-is-struggling
Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.
@kinanabinks
Silent Girl
After a traumatizing event, you aren’t the friendliest or most talkative of people. Bucky understands, and in turn becomes the one person you soften your hard exterior for.
Special Girl
Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.
Roommate Bucky | @angrythingstarlight
@wkemeup
Cold, Cold Water
While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive.
Drunk On You
Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?
Honey and Chamomile
Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart.
Suburbia
Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.
Eclipse
When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.
Back to Bourbon Street
When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough.
Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers | @espinosaurusrexex
Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...
Reconnect | @navybrat817
Bucky Barnes is your best friend. You're also in love with him. After his recent breakup, the two of you get a chance to reconnect during a weeklong vacation together. Is it long enough to get your happy ending?
@dyspneagrime (wattpad & ao3)
No Privacy
You're stuck on a mission that never seems to end, in a completely destroyed studio apartment, with absolutely no privacy. And no privacy means- you haven't cum the whole time. Thing is, neither has the ancient, half-cyborg, psychopathic, hobo-lookin' asshole that you've been partnered up with.
Little Wing
The year is 1973. All Dove Rogers wanted was a relaxing summer. Just one last hoorah before being thrust into the adult life. Yet everything shifts when her new houseguest and long standing enemy- Bucky Barnes, arrives. In the thick of sun-kissed relaxation, the two of them are forced to face the awakening and burning desire growing between them.
Possessed
Margaret Everlee is a meek little thing. Living her life as a struggling artist in New York, trying to find her place in the world. That is until the formidable CEO with a dark past, James Barnes sets his sights on her. His infatuation is instantaneous, becoming a man obsessed with making her his own little doll.
The Thin Line | @stardustdreams-andcaffeine
Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.
Wanna Be Yours | @buckybabesonly
You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.
Flirting and Football | @lovely
Drunkenly In Love | @kurogxrix
you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.
Hate Is A Strong Word | @stxrvel
you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?
Its Called: Freefall | @kikixreverie
Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.
I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend | @brunchable
Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.
Just For Tonight | @thyme-in-a-bubble
before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”
@aquaticmercy
Sleeper
When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts.
My Own Soul's Warning
You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.
Breaking Point
You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.
Coffee Companion | @skaye44
You and your friend Bucky enjoy going for coffee dates as friends. Bucky sees the names and numbers of two flirty baristas on your cups. He's jealous and wants to be the one you date, so he takes matters into his own hands.
Juno | @ultralightpoe
@elixirfromthestars
Sink Your Teeth In Me
You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.
By The Warmth Of The Oven
You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...
@vunblr
The Memory Remains
An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.
Roots and Branches (part 1)
Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.
Heartwood (part 2)
After Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship.
warnings: mentions of violence, blood, and abuse (not from bucky); bucky technically “kidnaps” reader; hurt/comfort
notes: i’ve actually never written an au piece like this before but someone requested a hurt/comfort piece with mafia!bucky and i wanted to give it a try!
summary: Bucky Barnes, notorious mafia boss and your fiancé’s biggest rival, decides to use you as leverage for a business deal. however, you soon find out the man is not what he seems
You sit at the empty counter of the diner and absently swirl your paper straw around the whipped cream that sits neatly on top of your milkshake. Other than the waitress who sits filing her nails at the register and the elderly couple nestled into a booth at the back of the restaurant you’re alone, but you like it this way. It’s rare you ever get a chance to set foot out in public like this without your fiancé or an escort of his choosing, but you’re grateful for the chance to finally breathe again.
The bells above the door jingle with the entrance of another patron, but you don’t bother to remove your tired eyes from the glass in front of you. You enjoy the sweetness of the shake and the dreamy love song that plays from the jukebox, but your muscles remain tight with tension despite your calm surroundings, something the man who seats himself next to you seems to notice.
“Long day?” His smooth voice prompts from beside you. A barely visible quirk of your lips follows his remark, and you subtly shift your gaze over to him. His features are kind, his eyes showcasing a genuine interest in your overwrought state while his smile signals his polite nature. He doesn’t seem threatening or overbearing like the men you tend to surround yourself with, and this makes it easier for you to open yourself up to the complete stranger.
“I just needed to escape for a little while,” you admit with a meager shrug, absently trailing your finger along the condensed glass.
“Are things that bad?”
“You could say that,” you huff humorlessly before taking a long sip of your shake. The man hums thoughtfully in response before reaching into his pocket and producing a wallet.
“In that case,” he says warmly while setting a ten dollar bill on the counter, “your shake’s on me.”
You stare at the man in bewilderment, unused to such acts of genuine kindness from complete strangers. Most people tend to stay clear of you, the people that occupy your home never so much as even sparing you a passing glance, and you find yourself speechless as you process the genuine joy you feel at finally being seen.
“Thank you,” you utter gratefully, swallowing down your emotions as you turn to look at the bill on the counter. “I-“
The glint of silver catches your eye and you freeze when you make note of the metal fingers that rest upon the dollar. Your horrified gaze slowly trails up his hand and along his bionic arm before meeting his innocent smile. Your blood feels like ice in your veins, stomach heavy with dread as you force yourself to swallow down the accumulation of nervous spit that had pooled in your mouth, and you suddenly find yourself wishing you hadn’t left the house alone.
“Judging by the look on your face I assume you know who I am and what I do for a living,” he says coolly, raising his hands in surrender to signal his innocence.
“I… I do,” you manage to get out despite the tremble of your voice.
“Good, that’s good. Saves us both some time.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” You whimper softly, bottom lip quivering in a way that tugs at the man’s heartstrings.
“No, sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures you sweetly despite his intimidating aura. “Despite my line of work, I make it a point to treat all dames with respect. It’s how I was raised. That’s why I’m sitting here asking you nicely to come with me. I really don’t want to manhandle you or drug you or throw you into the back of a van like your meathead fiancé would. I want you to walk out of here with me feeling dignified and respected.”
Your mind is reeling from the contradictory nature of the man sitting before you. You’re not an idiot, you’ve heard the stories of Bucky Barnes and the things he’s done to get to the position he’s at now. You know he’s the leader of a rival gang here in New York, and you know he’s been at it with your fiancé for months over territories in the city and shady business deals that always seemed to fall through, and yet here he was behaving like the perfect gentleman.
“Does that sound good to you, y/n?” He presses gently, the sound of your name coming from his lips filling your stomach with dread. He flashes a charming grin that would have had you giggling like a school girl in different circumstances, but in this instance it only has you fearing what is to come.
Knowing you have no way out of the situation and that the best possible outcome for you has been thrown into your lap, you reply in defeat, “I’ll walk out of here with you.”
“Smart girl,” Bucky coos with a grin before standing up from the stool and offering his arm for you to take. You swallow nervously while slowly lowering yourself off the stool and locking your arm with his own, allowing him to guide you out of the diner and towards the black SUV that sits waiting for you both.
Your body trembles against his own, fingers digging tightly into the fabric of his expensive suit jacket the closer you get to the car. Your entire body feels like it’s moving on autopilot due to the fear coursing through your veins, and you don’t even try to put up a fight as he opens the rear door and helps you into the car.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re in good hands,” he assures you with complete sincerity. You merely sit in silence and watch him shut the door closed, leaving you alone with the thoughts that race through your head.
While most would assume your frightened nature to be the result of essentially being kidnapped by one of the most notorious mob bosses in New York, it wasn’t Bucky that had your entire being on edge. You didn’t fear him, and despite his reputation you trusted his word that no harm would come to you while in his care. In fact, Bucky was the least of your concerns.
What frightened you most was what your fiancé would do to you once you were returned to him and the consequences you would face for leaving the house on your own. You knew that you’d rather endure whatever Bucky had planned for you than be met with your soon-to-be husband’s wrath, and you didn’t look forward to what was to come. He’d be livid to know you’d willing let yourself be taken by his biggest opponent without so much as putting up a fight, and he’d take out the hit to his ego on you.
You were utterly screwed.
~~~
You arrive at a mansion hidden in the outskirts of New York about half an hour later. You aren’t given much time to enjoy the scenery as you’re rushed inside, but you note the luxurious front lawn and pristine water fountain that make the home appear much nicer than your own. You’ve never been one for wealth or material items, but you had to admit Bucky had excellent taste.
Your heels click along the marble tile as you’re guided down a hallway and towards an office nestled in the back. Bucky sits waiting for you in his leather chair, a blond man and redheaded woman standing intimidatingly at his sides. The door shuts softly behind you, and Bucky quietly signals for you to take a seat in the chair across from him. You swallow nervously before slowly sinking down into your seat, on edge for what is to come.
“What do you think?” He prompts with a subtle grin, gesturing to the space around him. It’s much bigger than your fiancé’s office and much nicer too, equipped with a fireplace and antique decor. It’s inviting and warm despite being owned by a notoriously cold blooded man.
“It’s… nice,” you answer truthfully. “I’ve never been in a mansion like this.”
“I’m glad you like it, because while you’re here with me I want you to think of this as your home. You’re free to walk around and explore or to enjoy the gardens and the pool as you please.”
You’re stunned by his admission, definitely unused to such hospitality from mob men like Bucky. Your own fiancé didn’t even treat you so kindly, and your own home came with restrictions and a total loss of your autonomy. You felt guilty for being almost grateful at the fact that Bucky has decided to take you in, but you remind yourself that it isn’t permanent, and he’s only doing this to achieve a much larger goal at hand.
“The only rule is you can’t leave the grounds, and while I want to trust you’ll keep your word, I’ll still have to keep eyes on you at all times just in case you start getting antsy. Sound fair?”
“That’s fair,” you answer truthfully despite your underlying distrust. Surely this must be some sort of trick or cruel joke he’s playing on you, his hospitality a facade to catch you off guard, but so far he’s kept to his every word.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” he exhales while sinking back into his seat. “I don’t exactly enjoying holding you hostage like this, but your stupid fiancé left me no choice. Rumlow hasn’t been taking my threats seriously, so I figured kidnapping his girl might finally catch his attention.”
The mere mention of his name fills your entire body with dread, but you’re quickly able to mask the feeling with practiced ease. Every bad thing that’s happened to you since your engagement has been because of him, but you know that when all is said and done this little incident will be blamed on you. You hate him, but you’ve been conditioned to keep such things to yourself, so you only offer Bucky a quiet nod and keep your eyes glued to the ground like you normally do in the presence of mafia men.
“If there’s anything you need you let me know, and if you can’t find me you can ask Steve or Natasha,” he says while gesturing to the two beside him. “They’re my best workers which means I trust them with my life and yours. In the meantime, I’ve got work to do, so Natasha will show you to your room.”
“Thank you,” you utter meekly before rising from your seat, chancing a glance at the man across from you. His eyes are still full of kindness like they’d been at the diner, and you find your stomach flipping at the mere sight of his careful smile. You feel like you should be more afraid, you shouldn’t be so willing to be this man’s prisoner, but you can’t find it in you to care.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll be taken care of here with me,” Bucky assures you with a wink before signaling for Natasha to show you out.
You keep your gaze low as you follow the woman down the hallway and up the stairs, too intimidated by her to speak yet too curious to resist casting a look her way. You’re startled to find she’s already looking at you, a small smirk forming on her lips at your jumpiness.
“He means it, you know,” her smooth voice says while taking careful steps up the stairway. “He won’t hurt you, and we’ve been given strict orders to look after you.”
“So you’re one of his workers too?” You ask in astonishment. Rumlow never hired women to work for him, and he never so much as dared make business deals with them either. She chuckles.
“It’s like he told you- Bucky treats all dames with respect,” she notes fondly, reaching the top of the steps and turning a corner down another hallway. “We’re all equals here, including you.”
“How long will I be here?”
“That depends on Rumlow. Your fiancé won’t keep off our territory and owes Bucky a hefty amount of money. He also doesn’t like people taking his property, which is why you’re here. He always brags about you during business meetings, so Steve suggested you might be a good motivator for him to fall in line.”
You try your best not to let show the hurt her words bring, especially because she means no harm, but it’s degrading to hear yourself referred to as property. Though, you suppose it’s true considering he owns you and your autonomy as a result of your engagement, and you know that once you’re married you’ll never be free to be your own person ever again. This thought sits with you long after Natasha shows you to your room and leaves you to your own devices.
You find yourself unable to sleep for most of the night.
~~~
You’re awoken the next morning by a maid knocking on your door to inform you of Bucky’s request that you join him for breakfast. She leaves you a dress reminiscent of the ones you have in your own closet back at home, displaying Bucky’s excellent attention to detail when it comes to business. It seems he’d planned this out much more in depth than you’d thought, and you’re not sure whether this detail should be taken as a comfort.
You make yourself presentable and slip into the dress with ease before making your descent down the stairs and towards the dining room. The house is awfully quiet despite the morning hour, but you appreciate the stillness. Brock can be loud and overbearing, and his henchmen aren’t any better, so you enjoy the change of scenery.
Bucky sits at the head of the table when you finally peek your head in, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other as he passes the time until your arrival. An appetizing breakfast spread fills the table, immediately prompting your stomach to growl loudly. Your last meal had been the shake at the diner, so it’s safe to say you haven’t exactly eaten proper food in some time.
“Good morning,” you greet timidly to alert him of your presence, seating yourself across from him while he quickly sets his paper aside with a smile.
“Good morning,” Bucky responds pleasantly, his sole attention now on you. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept okay… all things considered.”
“I can understand that,” he hums thoughtfully before gesturing to the food laid out on the table. “I had the kitchen staff prepare a little bit of everything so help yourself. What’s mine is yours.”
“Thank you,” you murmur sincerely. An awkward silence settles in the room as you begin to fill your plate with fruit, Bucky simply watching your every move much to your discomfort.
“I knew that dress would suit you,” he compliments in an attempt to break the silence. You flash him a meek smile but say nothing as you pop a strawberry into your mouth. “It looks good. Although, I’m thinking I should have gotten one with longer sleeves to cover that hand shaped spot on your arm there.”
His words have you freezing in place, eyes widening in dismay as he brings your attention to the ugly bruise that paints the skin of your arm purple and blue. You quickly slap a hand against the mark to hide it in vain, prompting Bucky to let out a sigh. You watch the clenching of his jaw while he sits back further in his chair, brows furrowing together in dismay as he tries to piece together his next sentence carefully in his head.
“Rumlow do that?” He asks, though you don’t have to answer considering the look of shame and fear on your face seems to answer for you. You offer him a single nod, prompting a scoff of disbelief to leave him. “Fucking scum.”
“I’m used to it now,” you defend pathetically, head lowering in shame and eyes glassy with tears that threaten to fall. “It’s just how he is.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” he grumbles to your dismay. Sensing your discomfort, Bucky immediately softens his features and tone. “It’s not you I’m mad at, y/n. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that a brute like him found a girl like you for a wife. You don’t seem like the mafia type- you’re too trusting, too sweet.”
“That’s because I’m not,” you admit with a humorless laugh, sniffing away your tears before finally willing yourself to meet his gaze. You don’t know why a man you’ve only known for a day is able to get you to open up so easily to him, but at this point you can’t find it in you to care. “I never wanted any of this.”
“How’d you get mixed up in all of this?” Bucky presses gently, not wanting to force you to talk in fear of making you uncomfortable.
“My father owed a debt to Brock, and he paid it back with me. I never had a choice, and I gave up fighting it once I realized it would only make things worse for me. Accepting that this is just the way things are now makes it easier to survive.”
A look of quiet astonishment settles on Bucky’s features as if he hadn’t expected that answer, and you quickly revert your eyes back to your plate of food to avoid his sympathetic gaze. You don’t like talking about your impending marriage or the fate your father had forced upon you, but Bucky has a way of making you talk without inhibition. You almost hate it, but you haven’t been able to have a real conversation with anyone in over a year, so you have to admit it feels nice to finally have someone who listens to you.
“What about you?” You ask to change the subject and remove some of the attention off of you. “You don’t seem like the mob type either. How’d a man like you end up in this business?”
A nostalgic smile spreads across his lips as he shifts in his seat and begins to reminisce on his younger years. “Steve and I grew up in the slums. Crime and violence were rampant in our neighborhood, but corrupt politicians decided to pocket the resources meant to help us fix our home. Once we realized no one was going to do their job, we decided to do it for them. I don’t particularly enjoy the more violent aspects of the mob, but it’s a necessary evil if I want to get anything done.”
It’s your turn now to be stunned by his response. Most men like Rumlow join the mafia for the money or the notoriety; they join gangs for power and personal gain. But not Bucky. The more you learn about this man the more alluring he becomes, and the facade of the cold blooded killer people paint him out to be quickly fades the more time you spend with him.
You want to ask more questions, to spend hours getting to know more about the infamous Bucky Barnes, but your breakfast is cut short by the arrival of Steve who politely apologizes to you for the disruption.
“Something’s come up,” he alerts Bucky with a knowing look, “we need to go.”
“Great,” Bucky mutters before rising from his seat and flashing you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to cut breakfast short, doll. I’ll make sure the chefs cook us something nice for dinner, alright?”
“Actually, would it be okay if I made dinner?” You ask timidly, catching both men by surprise. “There isn’t much to do here, and I’d like to repay you for breakfast.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Bucky agrees with a fond grin, “whatever you want. I won’t be long.”
You watch the two men hastily exit the room, leaving you once more to your own devices in a dining room that suddenly feels much too big for you. You find yourself glancing down at the purple mark on your arm, gently running your fingers along its surface with a sigh before returning your gaze to the now empty chair in front of you.
Why couldn’t your father have promised you to a man like Bucky instead?
~~~
You’re in the middle of chopping vegetables when you hear a commotion coming from the front door. The sounds of yelling and muffled cursing fills your ears, prompting you to carefully set down your knife and slowly make your way towards the living room.
A trail of blood stains the marble tile floors as Natasha drags Bucky into the home while Steve barks orders to the other men. Despite the chaos, Bucky looks oddly calm and only mildly annoyed at the disruption. His eyes meet your worried ones when he catches sight of you lingering in the doorway, and he signals for Natasha to pause her steps.
“Y/n, honey, just stay put, okay? I’ll be down for dinner in a minute,” he instructs cooly despite the blood that slowly oozes out of his torso.
“I can help,” you insist gently, earning a distrusting look from Natasha. When neither of them respond to your proposition, you continue, “I know how to clean up a wound like that. I do it all the time for Brock, and I can do it for you if you’ll let me.”
After a moment of hesitation, Bucky finally gives you a nod. “The first aid kit is in the bottom cabinet of the bathroom down the hall.”
You quickly scurry off in search of the kit, following Bucky’s directions and grabbing the case full of medical supplies. After double checking it holds everything you need, you promptly make your way back to Bucky. The once tumultuous living room is now silent save for the man’s heavy breathing, and you find him waiting for you on the couch. Your stomach suddenly finds itself full of nerves as you approach him, but you do your best to remain calm as you seat yourself beside him.
“What kind of wound is it?” You ask while slipping on the medical gloves from the kit.
“Stab wound,” he grits through clenched teeth while shrugging off his suit jacket. “Didn’t see the bastard coming.”
You hum softly while sterilizing your tools and preparing the disinfectant, your movements immediately faltering when you look up to find his shirt completely unbuttoned. You can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes you at the sight of his perfectly sculpted muscles and the sheen of sweat that coats them, your stomach fluttering nervously as you carefully begin to wipe away the blood and disinfect the wound.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” you state aloud in an effort to distract yourself. “I’ve seen much worse.”
“How’d you learn to do all this?”
“Another mob wife taught me,” you explain with a faint smile that fails to reach your eyes. “She was the only person to show me kindness when I became a part of Brock’s world. Taught me everything I’d need to know to survive.”
A pensive silence fills the room, the air filled only with the steady breaths that fall from Bucky’s lips as you delicately stitch the wound closed. Your brows scrunch with concentration, tongue darting out from the corner of your lips without you realizing, and the sight tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings. It’s no shock to anyone that you’re beautiful, the most gorgeous woman he’s ever laid eyes on even, but you’re also gentle, kind, and too sweet to ever be mixed up with someone like Rumlow. Bucky knew better than to get attached to people, especially when it came to business, but he couldn’t help it when it came to you. You hadn’t been here for long, but already he’d grown fond of you and your soft nature that heavily contrasted the brutality of his life.
“I’ll have to change the bandages before you go to bed,” you murmur absently after finishing your work. “Did you still want dinner? I can heat it up for you.”
“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” Bucky reminds you with a careful smile. “You’re a guest here, I should be taking care of you.”
“I don’t mind,” you insist with a shrug, “anything to help the man that’s treated me with nothing but respect since I got here.”
Bucky says nothing, but the careful brush of his metal fingers against your jaw is enough to signal his gratitude. Your lashes flutter shut in content almost immediately, all inhibitions thrown out the window as you enjoy the intimacy of being here with him alone.
“I’m going to get changed then come back down for dinner. Sound good, doll?”
“Yes, Bucky,” you chime softly, casting him a fond smile while he pulls himself up off the couch and makes his way up the stairs towards his bedroom. In the meantime, you clean up the mess and do your best to get the blood stains out of the couch before washing your hands of the remaining grime.
While Bucky changes, you reheat the dinner you’d prepared in his absence and set the table. It’s oddly domestic, and though this is a routine you’ve completed hundreds of times before for Rumlow, this is the first time you’ve ever felt at peace doing so. You remind yourself not to get too used to being here, that Bucky isn’t your fiancé, but it only serves to fill you with dread at the thought of having to return to reality.
He returns ten minutes later in a Henley and pair of sweats, and you try not to take notice of the way his biceps nearly bulge through the seams. You say nothing as you set his plate down at the table before seating yourself beside him in favor of your normal place across the table. If he takes notice he says nothing, only moving to take a bite of his dinner after a grueling day of work.
“You’re an angel,” he express gratefully, and though you try to wave him off with a bashful shake of your head he insists, “I mean it. You’ve brought a light to this place I never thought was possible. It’s been nice having you here, though I wish the circumstances were different.”
“Me too,” you profess quietly despite keeping your eyes glued to your plate of dinner. Bucky looks upon your features for a moment, taking in the details of your face while silently working up the nerve to make a confession.
“I have a meeting tomorrow,” he utters abruptly, catching your attention and prompting you to look up from your plate. “It’s with Rumlow.”
Bucky’s statement has you feeling overcome with an immediate sense of dread. Your heart begins to beat rapidly in your chest, and you try to control the shakiness of your hand as you stab your fork into your vegetables.
“You do?” You murmur quietly, an obvious edge to your tone.
“He’s asked to meet so we can discuss the conditions of your return. He wants you home.”
Your ears begin to ring. Your body feels unbearably hot with panic and your eyes immediately begin to pool with tears. You don’t want to go back to him, and you don’t want to leave Bucky. Maybe he had technically kidnapped you, but you never once felt like a prisoner here with him. In fact, you felt the freest you’d ever been in his mansion than back at home with your own fiancé. You knew what was waiting for you with Rumlow, and you didn’t think you could bear it.
“I suppose it was a matter of time,” you state calmly despite the trembling of your bottom lip. Bucky nods silently in agreement, though his brows furrow in contemplation as he leans back in his chair and grasps his chin with his finger.
“The thing is,” Bucky begins with a defeated sigh, “I don’t think I will be returning you.”
You nearly drop your fork in response to his words, your eyes widening in shock as you look to him in search of any signs of humor or sarcasm. Instead, you are met with a face full of sincerity. Not once has Bucky ever teased you or lied to you during your stay with him, and this time is no different.
“You… you mean it?” You ask with a hopeful glint in your eye.
“What kind of monster would I be to send you back with him? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that. I won’t stand for you to marry someone who knocks you around and treats you with disrespect. I don’t have all the details worked out just yet, but I want you to trust that I’m going to help you get your freedom back. Can you trust me, y/n?”
“Yes, oh, thank you, Bucky!” you exclaim gratefully, unable to help the tears that begin to fall down your face. You’re overcome with emotion at the mere notion of finally being free from your impending marriage, and you have no words to express how thankful you are for him.
“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” he coos while gently cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Everything’s going to be okay. I swear to you I’ll make it all better.”
You sniffle, letting out a watery laugh when he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. You’re the happiest you’ve been in ages, full of hope and light you thought had long since been extinguished.
And it’s all thanks to Bucky.
~~~
You’re restless.
You can’t help yourself from pacing around Bucky’s office as the minutes slowly drag by. He’s been gone for two hours now and you’re starting to worry.
“You’re going to tire yourself out like that,” Sam comments after looking up from his book to watch you frantically move around the room. Bucky has entrusted the man to look after you in his absence in case Rumlow has any ideas about snatching you while he’s away. So far the mansion has been quiet, but it only serves to unsettle you further.
“Shouldn’t he be back by now? What if something’s happened?” You press urgently only for Sam to shut his book with a sigh and gesture for you to take a seat. You do so reluctantly, but your body is relieved to have ceased its constant movement.
“Bucky knows what he’s doing,” he reassures you as best as he can. “Plus, he’s a man of his word. He promised you your freedom from Rumlow so that’s what he’s going to do.”
Sam’s words are enough to quell your anxious state for now, but it doesn’t stop your mind from spinning with all the different possible outcomes that could result from this meeting. You want to be free of your engagement more than anything, but you’d hate for that to come at the cost of Bucky’s life.
After what feels like ages a knock finally sounds at the door. You nearly jump out of your chair from the startle it gives you, and Sam is quick to rise from his seat and draw his gun. The room becomes deathly silent as you both watch the door slowly creak open, but standing in the doorway is only a disheveled Bucky. His right cheek sports a fresh bruise, and blood that is not his own stains his clothes. He looks to Sam and gives him a single nod, prompting the man to make his exit so that only the two of you remain in the office.
You watch with bated breath as the man slowly walks towards you, his hulking frame towering over your own as he gently takes your hands in his. He looks exhausted, but he still manages to offer you a gentle smile as he raises your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle kiss upon them.
“I took care of him,” he finally says, immediately alleviating you of all tension and worry. “You’re free.”
Your bottom lip quivers despite the smile you wear while you fight to hold back tears of joy, and without a second thought you throw your arms around Bucky in a bone crushing hug that he’s quick to return. His metal hand finds its place on the small of your back while the other delicately cradles the back of your head. You don’t care about the blood that stains his clothes or the metallic scent that he emits: you’re forever indebted to your savior, and you want him to know just how much you appreciate what he’s done for you.
“You can stay with me for now until things calm down and we find you a place-“ Bucky begins to say, but his words fall upon deaf ears as you crash your lips onto his own in a passionate kiss. You can’t think of any other way to express how happy you are, and judging by the way he immediately pulls you flush against him to return the kiss, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
His lips move tenderly against your own while his arms wrap around your frame in the most impassioned kiss you’ve ever received. All inhibitions have been thrown out the window, but neither can find it in you to care. From the moment you met him you knew Bucky was a different man from the rest- a smart, respectful man who fully cared about your wellbeing despite hardly knowing you. In return, you’d given him unwavering kindness and tender care he once thought would never be attainable. Your story wasn’t conventional by any means, but neither were the two of you, and together you were perfect.
Embraced in the passionate arms of your protector, you think you’ve finally found the place where you belong.
~~~
You wake to the feeling of his lips gently trailing along your bare shoulder. You let out a quiet hum and stretch yourself awake before meeting the eyes of your lover. His face sports a sleepy smile as he continues to trail kisses along your arm and up to your neck.
“Good morning,” you utter pleasantly, entangling your bare limbs with his own from beneath the sheets.
“Sorry for waking you,” Bucky utters apologetically while pressing his lips against your temple. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
“I don’t mind,” you assure him with a careful smile, tucking your head beneath his chin to enjoy his warmth and bask in his natural scent. His arms come to tenderly wrap around your figure and pull you in closer, and you wonder if you’ll be able to find it in yourself to get out of bed today.
It’s been three months since Rumlow’s death and the disbandment of the Cross Bones mafia. Bucky now fully controls the territories in New York, and you think it’s better this way. Crime has been at an all time low, the streets are cleaner, and life is peaceful.
Though you can come and go as you please and have all the freedom in the world now, you still call Bucky’s mansion home. It was clear the two of you had formed an instantaneous connection that couldn’t be broken, and neither of you could bear to be separated. You were given your own room and had all of your belonging moved in, and though you wanted to take it slow, it wasn’t long before you migrated into Bucky’s bedroom.
You immediately solidified your place in his life as his shining light and motivation to get out of bed in the morning. Everything he did was for you now, for your future and the life you planned to build together. This was it, and Bucky was happy to have a new sense of purpose once more.
“Why don’t we go into town today?” He suggests, voice still hoarse with sleep. “We can visit that antique store you’ve been eyeing.”
“You mean it?” You gasp, looking up to find any hint of insincerity in his features. Instead, he merely smiles and presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
“Anything for my girl,” he avows earnestly before pulling you closer for a kiss.
Your new life with Bucky is perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love your writing! May I request more mob!bucky, please?
this is kinda trash but it's a cute drabble, i hope u like it! :)
the work hug J.B.
summary: mob!bucky saves you from someone bothering you
warnings: brief harassment and mentions of unwanted sexual attention, bucky being protective, f!reader
wc: 1.3k
⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚
you’d taken the job because of the sign on bonus. you’d heard through the grapevine of mutual friends of a job offering high pay and immediate compensation. when the money hit your account, you didn’t bother asking questions.
maybe that was a mistake because now, you’re getting pressed up against the wall by a man nearly twice your age. he’s trapped you, and normally there are bodyguards all over the place but you can’t seem to find where they’ve all gone off to.
“please… leave me alone.” your voice comes out smaller than you wanted it to, but after repeatedly telling the man to stop harassing you, he only grew more determined to get what he was after.
“c’mon, pretty girl. just give me a taste.”
trying to squeeze past him, you drag yourself along the wall, but he comes with you. you’ve shifted to the right about 6 feet, a round piece of metal lodging itself into the small of your back before the wall gives out and you go tumbling backwards.
you had hit the doorknob of a door that was too easy to open. falling to the floor with a thud, you wince, leaning up on your hands only to be met with a room full of eyes all on you. your jaw drops, embarrassment flooding through you.
“what the fuck?”
you whip your head towards the end of the conference table where the voice came from. seated is a man with an arm of metal, glinting underneath a dress shirt rolled to his elbows. your boss. you scramble to get up, flustered and completely ashamed. the man with the metal arm makes his way towards you.
“what is going on?”
his voice is demanding and you try not to flinch.
“i’m- i’m sorry, sir. i swear i didn’t mean to barge in here, he was pushing me up against the door and i didn’t know where i was going an- and- and-” you’re on the verge of tears.
“get the fuck out.”
one slips down your cheek. then another. you’re trying not to sob.
as you’re about to comply, a hand reaches for your wrist.
“rumlow. leave.”
opening your eyes in shock, you watch as the man leaves his spot from the doorway. with a nod from bucky, a guard follows him out.
“are you okay?” his voice is softer now and his eyes finally settle on you.
he notes the tear streaks and wordlessly slips out of the room, leaving behind the men at his table.
“but sir, your meeting-”
he shushes you, pushing open the door to another room down the hallway. a mahogany desk sits comfortably in the middle of the room, bookshelves lining the walls. a set of matching armchairs are resting by the unlit fireplace.
“sit.”
you comply, feeling the warmth from his body leave your back. he goes off to the side of the room, coming back with a glass of water.
you take a feeble sip, keeping your head down.
“are you okay?”
“i’m sorry.”
“you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” he kneels in front of you, fingers lifting your chin to look at him. “are you okay?”
you nod. “yeah. i just… i was looking for you or one of the bodyguard-men-guys. they’re always around and when couldn’t i find one i got really scared and started to panic and…” you ramble and bucky tsks, his hand dropping to your knee to rub soothing circles.
“i’ll make sure to always have security for you.”
you look at him, his eyes holding something else in them.
“you don’t have to.”
“i oughta kill him for laying a hand on you.”
your jaw drops. “you- what?”
“he knows better than to fuck around at my business.”
you don’t respond, dwelling on his words.
“you can take the rest of the day off.” he stands, twirling a silver ring around a finger on his right hand. “i’ll have steve take you home.”
“but, i-”
bucky’s hand waves around, cutting you off, a light hum leaving his throat.
“but, sir-”
“what is it?” he turns back to you.
“i don’t… i don’t want to leave.” you admit, holding yourself with your arms and trying to make yourself smaller.
he frowns, bending down again to be eye level with you. “but i need to take care of rumlow, sweets. he needs to learn not to fuck around with me.”
this time, you frown too, staring at your knee in defeat.
your voice is small again, already ashamed at the words that are about to leave your mouth. “i don’t want to be alone.”
he tsks again and you can tell he’s mentally debating what to do next.
“can you give me fifteen minutes?”
“okay.” you try to smile but it’s not very convincing. “i’m sorry.”
“nothing to be sorry for.” he stands, softly rubbing your shoulder before making his way to the door. standing in the threshold, he beckons someone over but your chair faces away from the door so you don’t see who he interacts with. after some shuffling, a blonde-haired man hands you a blanket. you recognize him – steve – but you’ve yet to be introduced.
he sits in the other arm chair opposite you, offering a delicate smile and grabbing a remote to light the fireplace.
“he won’t be long.”
you nod, unsure what else to say. you wrap yourself in the blanket and stare off into the flames, dancing away in the soot-covered hollow. you hadn’t realized how cold you were.
the door behind you opens and you recognize bucky by the sound of his shoes.
“thank you steve, you can go.” he dismisses him, grabbing a fluffy rag and taking the seat steve just had.
bucky’s knuckles are already bruising, and he’s wiping off the remnants of some blood.
“did you… hurt him?”
a spark of remorse flickers across his face but then he clicks his jaw and sits up a little straighter.
“i had to.”
“because he bothered me?”
“yes.” he doesn’t snap, but he’s so confident in his response that it makes you wary to ask anything else.
“but you barely know me.”
at this, he shrugs.
“i hired you, didn’t i?” he chuckles.
“yeah but… still. i didn’t even meet you until today.”
he fiddles with his ring again. “alright then, sweets.” he carelessly puts the rag down on the table beside him. “why don’t i get to know you, then?” he muses at you, awaiting your response.
“oh.”
a deep chuckle leaves his throat.
“since you don’t want to be alone.”
you sit there in shock, still silent. he picks up a book, opening to the page with the bookmark placed neatly inside.
without glancing up, he speaks again, teasingly. “or is that not what you want?” his eyes soften when he sees you nervously bite your lip.
“can i have a hug?”
his shoulders slump like you’ve melted him. he thinks you’re so adorably innocent.
“i don’t know if i’m any good at those.”
you tilt your head at him, a smile forming. “you’re still human, even after becoming a mob boss.”
he smirks, “a mob boss, huh?”
your eyes widen, regret coursing through you. “i didn’t mean-!”
you stop speaking when he stands up, opening his arms and beckoning you to embrace him. slowly, you abandon the blanket and snake your arms around his waist, successfully nuzzling into the crook of his neck and exhaling.
“i haven’t done this in a long time.”
“what? hug?”
his chest rumbles in a gentle laugh. “yeah.”
letting out a big breath, you squeeze his middle like you’re trying to pull him closer. “well i think you’re doing great.”
bucky squeezes you back and as you inhale the scent of him, you realize he smells like something you want to call home. afraid of what you started, the fit of butterflies in your stomach erupts and after tonight, you know you’ve started something you can’t ignore. but maybe… bucky feels it too.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: Bucky's been too busy lately and you're missing him badly so you do something to get his attention and it works...
Author's Note: The picture below was too much to handle and gave me Mob feels and I do love writing him with a soft edge, which I hope comes across here. There isn't much back story, lately I can't do much more than focus on the action LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks a bunch Daisy!🥰
Warnings: tension, masturbation over the phone (bc where the hell is your man!), soft moments in between the smut
It’s been the longest week of your life. Bucky’s been…busy and you’ve had enough and you’re just about to tell him so when your phone buzzes in your hand.
“Don’t forget what I want tonight. Make sure you eat dinner doll. I’m going to be keeping you up.”
You huff out a small laugh at his text message. He’s been keeping you up all week and while you’d never complain you would like him to be more available.
With slightly shaky hands, you press his name to call him, and wait while it rings once…twice…
“Is everything all right?” he asks immediately.
“James,” you purr. “Are you busy?”
Silence greets you across the line and after several long beats, he clears his throat, quietly.
“Doll,” he says, “you know you shouldn’t be calling me right now unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m in the middle of something. What do you need?”
His voice is low. Stern and laced with irritation at the interruption.
Your hand slides down your torso, over your belly button and lower, between your spread legs.
“I miss you,” you pout into the phone. “But if you can’t talk I can call back at a better time.”
You can almost imagine the way he leans in, pressing the phone flush to his ear and listening carefully for every sound on the other end of the line.
“No, I’m here now. I miss you too doll.”
Your hand slides up and back, fingers pressing into your skin. You pretend it’s his hand and he’s hovering over you, watching your expression.
“When are you coming home?” you start, your breath catching when you hear him exhale forcefully.
“Doll,” he whispers, and now you know he must be alone in his office, having silently gotten rid of anyone else. His voice has gone hoarse, goading, deep enough that if he were here you can just imagine the way his eyes would darken with intent.
“Why won’t you let me come see you.”
You try to keep your words steady but your fingers are moving faster now, sliding easily over skin that has grown slick with the sound of his voice, the sound of his breath through the phone.
You imagine him behind his large and ornate desk, his jaw tight, his hand clutching himself through his zipper.
Just the thought makes you gasp.
“You’re a distraction,” he hisses, and you moan quietly without meaning to.
“Are you being a distraction right now doll?” he asks.
Your back arches off the pillows, sensation pooling and warming in your thighs, low in your stomach.
“Do you want to hear me?” you ask. “Do you like thinking of me doing this in our bed?”
“Are you…” he growls. “Doll…”
You remember the way he looked at you this morning before he left. You remember how his mouth felt on your neck when he climbed into bed last night.
And then, when you barely whisper, “oh god,” you hear his rumbling groan on the other end and completely fall to pieces under your own hand, pretending it’s his, knowing how much better it will feel when it really is his, later.
Your legs are shaking and you’re crying out into the phone, riding through the wave of heat, slick pleasure sliding across your skin. You say his name, some other things you’re not even sure are coherent but just knowing he’s listening, and it’s all he can do- he can’t touch you or feel you-prolongs your release until you’re spent.
“Doll.”
You blink with a swallow. “Bucky…I…”
“Don’t you dare move,” he warns. “I’m coming home.”
You’ve drifted off waiting for him when the door slams open, the knob hitting the plaster of the wall just on the other side of the bedroom. Startled, you sit up, grasping the sides of his button down and covering yourself as he storms into the bedroom.
“There you are,” he whispers, his voice too low and steady and you know you’re in for it.
He stalks toward you, stopping at the side of the bed and running a hand through his already mussed hair.
“Did you think that was a good idea doll?”
You push up onto your knees, sliding your hands up his chest and into the open buttons at the top by his neck.
“I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
He closes his eyes, moving his fingers to your jaw, down your neck to push his button down off your shoulders. His hands slide over your breasts before he pulls his hands back, forming tight fists.
“You don’t think you’re the only thing on my mind all day…and night,” he says. “I count the minutes until I can come home to you.”
“But you’ve been gone so much this week. The late nights aren’t enough.”
He leans in and says, “I’ve had a lot of business to attend to and tonight especially.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, as you lean in to meet him, your lips brushing along his neck.
His eyes flutter closed, nostril flaring.
“What do you think it looks like. Me running off?”
With his eyes anchoring yours, and to make his point, he slides a rough hand lower, between your legs, two fingers searching and finding you soaked.
“Who made you this wet?”
You don’t answer, closing your eyes and pushing into his hand before reaching to grip his wrist and fuck his fingers if he won’t move.
He jerks his arm back and pulls his fingers away, reaching to push them into your mouth, pressing your taste onto your tongue. His hand grips your jaw, fingers curled into the hollow of your cheeks to hold your mouth open.
“Answer me.”
“You.” The word is hard to get out around his intrusive fingers, but you manage, and he pulls back, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.
“You’re all I think about,” you say as you stare up into his eyes, so intense with desire.
They soften as you continue to hold his gaze. His eyes drop to your lips and his hands spread gently at your waist.
“I don’t care that you’re busy and had to leave. I want you to ignore it.”
His jaw tenses.
“I want you.”
“Doll,” he breathes out before his lips crash over yours, tongue pushing your mouth open, tasting, rolling up against your teeth.
You greedily reach for his shirt, tugging it free of his pants. With shaking fingers, you work each button free and once his smooth, warm torso is exposed, you let out a fevered moan and your hands are frantic across his skin, your fingers catching on the gold chain that rests there.
He growls when you spend too long running your hands up and over his chest, stroking and teasing the line of hair heading down below his belly button and into his pants.
Impatiently, he tugs at the shirt that’s still draped half over your body, pushing his hips forward, and grunting his approval when you quickly unfasten his belt, his zipper and shove his pants down his thighs so you can free his cock.
Oh.
It rests warm and thick against his belly and when you reach for him he’s steel in your hands. You use both to grip him and slide them down his length, dipping your head so you can suck on him with as much hunger as you feel.
He exhales a tight groan as you pump him in your fist and then curls down, capturing your mouth in a brutal, commanding kiss. You pull away, intending to lick him until he comes, but with a growled curse he pushes you back on the bed, kicking off his pants and climbing over you.
With hands flat on your thighs he spreads your legs, leaning forward and roughly thrusting into you. It’s a relief so enormous you moan loudly, never before feeling so full of him. You’re starving and satisfied, wanting him to stay like this forever.
He pulls back and then slams forward, gripping the headboard for leverage and taking you so roughly each thrust forces air from your lungs.
It’s wild and frantic, his body over yours, your legs clamped around his waist.
“I needed to get this deal done tonight,” he hisses, hands gripping your thighs. He pumps hard and fast, sweat trickling down his temple. “Instead, I need to come home and deal with my needy wife.”
His large, rough hands reach for your breasts, and he slides his thumbs across your nipples.
“Please make me come,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please,” you beg. “I’ll be good.”
You know he can’t deny you anything. Not really. He’ll give you everything you want. Always. And that’s exactly what he does when he angles your hips and drops his hand between your legs, pressing a finger to your clit until you feel the rush of warmth along your skin and the tension build deep in your belly.
“Bucky,” you cry out as your pussy tightens around him and your body arches beneath him.
The sight of you so lost in him is too much and he thickens inside you before filling you up, his hips stuttering and slowing.
He carefully pulls out and falls to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms and burying his head in the side of your neck.
“Baby doll,” he murmurs, his lips warm and soft at your skin.
“You’re not leaving again right?” you ask quietly.
His hand slides along your waist to your stomach where he reaches for yours and tangles your fingers together.
“No doll face. I’m not going anywhere.”
He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your palm and then turning it over to press a kiss to your wedding ring. His mouth moves across your knuckles then to each fingertip and you shiver in his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says again, rocking behind you and pushing his thigh between yours.
You start to move against it, the friction from his hard muscle making you grip his hand tightly. When he feels your wetness coat his skin he purrs into your ear, pushing your body down harder onto his thigh.
And just when you feel yourself nearing the edge he pulls his leg away. You whine out his name but with quick hands he rolls you onto your stomach, spreads your legs, and slides in so deep you gasp.
His groan vibrates across your skin, his lips warm and soft at your neck before he whispers along the shell of your ear, “I need to feel you come around me again.”
