I'm Jas. 26 yrs ♉ I like reading fanfiction. I like and reblog fics and stuff. check out my insta for fic recommendations https://instagram.com/tellmeastory1_?utm_medium=copy_link ( I'm also a Sebastian Stan simp )
But I don’t want to go to bed- I want to stay up all night ruining my carefully put together sleep schedule in order to finish rereading my favorite fanfic 🥺🥺
Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ (Oral, Fingering, P in V, Praise all around,) Its Porn With a substantial amount of plot?
Author's Note: Third Installment for the Soldier and Eden Ivy is here! There will be a first ever behind the scenes coming out after this installment that will cover what happens between Installment 2 & 3 so keep your eyes peeled! Enjoy baby buns.
You’re laid out on the sheets, the lace chosen by wardrobe barely concealing any part of you. It’s taken every part of him to not strut across set and claim you, take all of you all while having you beg for more.
He was going to show you how he should have taken care of you that day, how he should have claimed your lips first, tasted every part of you after, before tearing you apart, making sure she came undone for him his name on her lips.
“You’re looking awfully lonely standing over their soldier, why don’t you come keep me some company, we can warm each other up.” You purr patting the silk sheets next to you.
His jaw ticks, fingers curling at his side, he shakes his head ‘no’, he wanted you begging for his touch.
You pout, “please – sir?” He’s shaking his head again.
Your pout only deepens as you move around on the bed till you're resting on your knees. You put out all the stops to get him to cross that line, your breasts pushing together when you lean forward on the bed your hands pressing into the sheets.
He stays where he is fighting his own inner battle to remain there, he thinks he might lose it when you huff, pout turning into a scowl. “Fine if you won’t come and warm me up, I’ll do it myself.”
You sit back, untucking your legs from beneath you, “Eden,” he grits, “baby you better think about your next move, I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret.” Your gaze stays trained on his as you plant your feet, legs spreading tantalizingly slow, a growl builds in his chest as you bring a hand down between your legs, “Eden.”
His warning doesn’t stop you from pulling your panties to the side, fingers curled around the lace fabric. He’s across the room before you can even think of dipping your fingers into your wet heat, his body covering yours, fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist, his lips ghosting over yours. “Eden, Eden, Eden, baby, don’t you know who this pussy belongs too? His tongue darts out to lick over your lips, “this is mine baby, and only I get to touch what’s mine.”
You chase his lips, teeth capturing his lower lip before releasing it with a ‘pop’ “so then touch it, she’s lonely – empty.”
He groans low in his chest head dipping down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He drinks down your sweet moans pressing his own groans into your lips when your fingers curl just right in his chocolate locks. He’s kissing his way down to your neck lips stopping by your ear, “remember your safe words, don’t be afraid to tell me to fuck off.”
He’s continuing down the sweet expanse of your skin, but you're nudging him, pulling his face to you. His lips are on yours again a quiet ‘I trust you’ on your lips pressed into his. This kiss isn’t scripted, so he has to play it off, “Such a needy girl aren’t you Eden, you just want to take, take, take, well don’t worry I’ll give you just what you need.”
Your chest is heaving, whines leaving your lips as you hips gyrate into the air, his warm hand presses your hips back down, fingers teasing your opening with the slick that’s pooled there. “Soldat please,” you cry pushing against the hand holding you down. He takes a nip at you inner thigh making you cry out, “you’ll take what i give you, should be thanking me for even giving you anything with how greedy you were earlier- touching what’s mine.” he murmurs.
You moan is obscene when he dips his fingers in, “Fuck yes, god – thank you!”
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He questions pressing in tills he is knuckles deep, fingers curling. Your body, the part he isn’t anchoring down is lifting off the sheets, a broken moan caught on your lips. His mouth latches onto the all too sensitive skin of inner thigh, nipping, sucking at the soft skin. Your hand fists in his hair tugging, whining as you plead with God.
“Gods not here Eden” he husks licking a long strip of your skin, “s’just me.”
“Please,” you breath on a moan, “need – ah fuck!”
He grins, “what? What do you need Eden, tell me?” He knew what you needed but he wanted to hear you say it, he wanted you to beg for it.
“Your mouth – put your mouth on my pussy please.”
He hums, fucking his fingers into you with vigor now, “Is that the nicest way you can ask me Eden, thought you were well mannered baby, need me to teach ya a lesson?”
You’re rushing out a ‘no’ when his fingers still inside of you dark cerulean eyes looking up at you from where he rests between your spread legs. “Well go on now, ask me nicely.” You whine, his fingers digging into your skin when he feels you push down, “Eden, baby come on now, be a good girl for me. You huff, “please sir,” you whine all doe-eyed – fuck you must know what that does to him, “Please put your mouth on my pussy, don’t you want to taste her? See if I’m really as sweet as they all say?”
He growls pulling his fingers from you as he slaps your wet pussy, a breathy laugh leaving your lips, “this pussy is mine Eden, it belongs to me, and I’m going to make sure you never forget who it belongs to.”
“You're sure it’s - Ah – mmmm yes!”
His mouth covers your mound, tongue dipping past your slick folds seeking out that bundle that will have you screaming his name “Soldat!” He circles your clit with his tongue drawing your back off the sheets once more, your chest heaving thighs clenching around his head. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling them open spreading you out further for him, he was going to feast, and you were going to let him. Your back is almost completely off the sheets, breast pushed high into the cooled air of the set. His tongue flicks teasingly in and out of your soaked folds, “Now tell me Eden,” he murmurs breath fanning across your pussy, “who's pussy does this belong too?”
“It belongs to you sir, please, please put your mouth back on my pussy she’s yours! Please, please wanna cum on your tongue!”
His mouth is back on your awaiting heat, taking you higher as his tongue flicks between your bead and slick pooled entrance. Your fingers grasp the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hold, “your fingers, need your fingers.” you whine.
He hums against your heat, shaking his head as he continues lavish you with his tongue, “no fingers Eden, when you come, you’re going to come from my tongue alone.” he breathes. He leaves no room for argument as he delves back in tongue working you over, moans of pleasure falling from his lips as he licks up your honey sweet nectar, the vibrations leaving you quaking in his hold.
He glances up his ocean grey eyes connecting with yours, you weren’t sure it was possible, but they seemingly darkened more as he pushed you closer to release. A moan catches in your throat as he suckles on your clit, his tongue working over it with quick strokes. Your pussy clenches around nothing, body heaving as the intense pleasure of your first orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop as he works you through your first orgasm his tongue continuously flicking over you, dipping into you to suck up your juices. Your vision goes white, fingers pulling at his hair taut.
“Ohh Fuck - Jesus” you choke out thighs trembling as you come down. He chuckles adjusting himself onto his knees, lips kissing up your sweat slicked skin till he’s looming over you his own eyes hooded over with lust, a lazy grin on his glistening lips. You lean up tongue running over his lips to taste yourself, “mmm guess I really am as sweet as they all say,” you grin coercing him. His cock throbs in his pants at your brattiness, hand coming up to wrap around your neck as he brings you closer, “It seems I haven’t drilled it into you, that you are mine, that this,” his other hand grips your pussy “that this belongs to me.” You lean further up despite the loose hold he has on your neck, your lips capturing his a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue. He doesn’t know how you manage with your mouth still locked on his but you manage to get him on his back legs straddling him.
Another moment unscripted and he’s only ever done this one other time and that was with Carter. He doesn’t try to fix it, he wants to see what you do, so his hands find purchase on your waist squeezing. “Are you planning on taking again Eden?” You’re grinding onto his still cloth covered cock, “mmm something like that.” He guides your movements, lips parting at the pleasure you’re already building and he hasn’t even sunken into you. You fall over him, one of your hands sliding between your bodies to work his pants open, pulling him from his confines. “I’m going to take what’s mine, and this,” you squeeze his cock, “is mine.”
You never really stood a chance the second those words left your lips, it made him feral and he had never felt this way before. He has you on your back in less than a second, your legs accommodating his hips that are flush with yours, his cock buried to the hilt, his mouth drinking down the scream he’s managed to pull from you. “Guess we’re both taking tonight Eden.”
None of what the two of you are doing now is scripted, he shouldn’t be drinking down your moans of pleasure. No. He should have you face down in the sheets, he should be fucking you senseless, telling you what you’re going to take and that you’ll thank him for it. He can’t bring himself to though, its been over a week since he had the pleasure of working with you after Walkers stunt, and finally having you under him your velvet walls gripping him tightly has every rational thought flying out the window. He wants to make this memorable for you, wants to erase Walkers touch and leave you reeling with the thought of him.
The pace he sets is relentless, shifting the two of you up the sheets with the force of his thrusts, and you take it all so well, his stage name leaving your lips in a prayer as you beg him for more.
And he gives you everything, “that’s it Eden taking it so well, always such a good girl for me even with that bratty mouth of yours.”
You’re so fucked out you can only whine, “yes sir – m’you’re good girl, please cum inside of me, want it all.”
He groans the fucking mouth on you, doesn’t know what walker was thinking not taking his time with you, really losing himself in you.
“Cum for me, please cum for me.”
He loses himself the second you say it, spilling his warmth into you, your mouths molded as he gives you everything. He doesn’t want to but he moves enough to give Clint the money shot his body rolling off to the side of you when the buzzer sounds on set.
The move rooms around the two of you, the crew wrapping the set up while the two of you catch your breath. He runs his fingers over your arm drawing your eyes to his, you smile softly at him, “you okay?” he questions.
“Perfect,” you murmur softly, “thank you for agreeing to film with me as my comeback.”
He grins at the nickname you picked up from Steve, “anytime sweetheart, it’s how it should be all the time.”
“Mmmm you’ve set the bar pretty high Barnes, think the others have met their match.”
He laughs, “it’s a little late but I’m finally glad you learned your lesson.”
Your brows furrow, but then you're laughing the meaning behind his words finally breaking through that pleasure induced fog.
Her uncle Steve has a habit of picking little Bee up by the back of her onesie, swinging her back and forth as he walks.
The first time it happened, Bee was scampering down the hallway, playing with little Daisy, not paying attention to her surroundings.
Bucky wasn't too far behind, ready to scoop her up when she darted straight for her uncle.
Steve caught the wayward toddler right as she was about to trip, hoisting her up by the back of her winnie the pooh onesie, her instantaneous glee at 'flyin' had the mobsters chuckling. Steve swung her several times, going higher each time.
"Don't drop her," Bucky casually warned, his keen gaze narrowed on the handful of cloth keeping his baby from falling to the ground.
Steve had a feeling the friendship would take a serious hit if he did—hell he'd punch himself in the face if he did.
"I would never"—He swung her higher, swiftly letting go, grinning at the look of shock on Bucky's face, the tall mobster instinctively reached out to catch his baby but Steve already had his arms around the giggling Bee.—"drop my goddaughter."
"You're lucky I consider you a friend, you know that don't you?" Bucky glared, following the laughing duo into his office.
Now Bee expects to be carried like that whenever Steve visits. Sometimes he'll carry her and Frankie, swinging both toddlers around the office while discussing business with Bucky and Sam.
Fluffyy crack fic and nothing else. Imagine Tony Stark's shy new assistant sitting at the kitchen island for breakfast, getting a cup of tea before heading to the lab. She's sipping from her steaming mug when a very pretty super solider walks in from his run and the heat rising in her cheeks isn't from the hot Earl Grey.
"Mornin' y/n" He gives you a polite smile while he makes his way to the fridge and you had to silence the squeak that nearly escapes your lips. He's in a pair of snug grey sweats which are resting sinfully low on his hips and his tight black t-shit showing off every divot and curve of muscle on his torso. You bite you lip as he bends down to grab a cold bottle of water, silencing a squeal with a sip of tea.
"Morning, Sergeant" You give him a smile and the lopsided grin he gives you as he goes on about his day leaves you giggling and kicking your feet. You were just about finished your cup when Nat walked in next, looking you up and down with a shake of her head.
"Bucky was here, wasn't he" She playfully rolled her eyes knowing the effect the brunette had on you. "What happened this time"
"Bucky has a cute butt" You giggled, while Nat snorted at your flustered state. "And slutty thighs"
"Do you ever plan on actually telling him"
"No!" You vigorously shook your head. That was out of the question for you; you were happy to admire the soldier from afar. The last thing he'd want is to have to deal with is the playground crush you had on him anyway, it was a miracle he even noticed you. "He doesn't even see me that way"
"Well, guess we'll never know" She sassed as you slipped off the stool to make your way to the lab.
"I'm happy to admire God's work from a safe distance!" You called over your shoulder while Nat shook her head, smirking to a third person you didn't see who was lingering near the kitchen, very happy to listen intently to the conversation that was taking place.
The one that was supposed to be a secret from Bucky's ears.
That wouldn't do.
-
"Did you hear?" Sam grinned, sauntering over where Bucky was sparring with Steve, both men panting after already going for a few rounds. "Word on the street is you have a cute butt"
"What" Bucky deadpanned while Steve smirked, watching the heat in his friends cheeks already starting to creep up to his ears.
"Mhm, that little tush of yours has been getting a lot of attention lately"
"From who" Bucky's face scrunched up in confusion, frowning when Sam cackled, clapping his shoulder.
"Tony's cute lil assistant" He says with a wink, noting the immediate change in Bucky's demeanor, his frown falling off his face, replaced with a very pink blush.
"You mean y/n?"
"Uh huh. Must've been those slutty grey sweats you've been running around in"
"Slutty?"
"Extremely. Especially with those thighs"
"And how do you know this" Bucky struggled to bite back a smile, not wanting to get his hopes up until he was sure. "There's no way she-
"Heard her talking to Nat this morning. She sounded real excited after seeing you and your cute butt" Sam gave him a swat causing him to yelp.
"Hm. Interesting" The soldier nodded already looking towards the showers so he could rinse off and find you.
"Yeah, yeah, go find your girl" Steve shoved Bucky off the mat with a grin. Bucky jogged off to the lab right after a shower, purposely throwing on a new pair of his snug joggers. He smirked as he walked in seeing you fully focused on a small creation Tony created, tinkering away without noticing him.
"Hey doll"
"Ser-sergeant!" You squeaked in surprise as he strode inside, dropping the gadget you were working on, "What can I help you with"
"Sam told me something earlier", Bucky shrugged casually while you stayed frozen in your seat, your heart rate picking up the closer he got. "Was wonderin' if you knew anything about it"
"What's-what's that" You fidgeted nervously, his baby blues staring at you intently, loving how flustered you looked.
"Someone said something about me having a cute butt"
"Oh" You looked like deer in headlights, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.
"Oh?" Bucky smirked while you hid your face in your hands, ready to sink to the floor and hide under the table, he must have thought you were such a pervert. "And something about slutty thighs-
"Not just your butt! All-all of you is cute all over" You squeaked out before slapping a hand over your mouth realizing you were making it worse.
"All of me, huh" Bucky pried your hand away from your face, cupping your cheek instead, the cool metal of his arm soothing your hot skin. "So you do think I have a cute butt and slutty thighs"
His thumb came up to pull your bottom lip away from where it was caught between your teeth, smiling at the little nod you gave him, too scared to open your mouth.
"Well I'm glad"
"Y-you are?" You shyly whispered, nearly whining when he brought his other hand to hold your face gently, his lips brushing against yours.
"Mhm, means I can do this" You went limp in his hold, every muscle in your body turning into mush as he kissed your lips sweetly, the gentle peck feeling like he'd stolen your breath away. "Don't faint on me sweets" Bucky chuckled as he pulled away, seeing the dazed look on your face.
"Such a cute butt" You whispered to yourself, eyes growing wide when you realized you said that out loud. You buried yourself in his chest making Bucky grin, kissing the top of your head.
"Want to grab coffee with my cute butt?" Bucky tipped your chin up to look at him, "I'll even bring my slutty thighs" He threw in with a wink.
"Promise?" You giggled while he slipped in his hand in yours, leading you towards the door.
I hope Bee gets all the hearts and pink cupcakes in the world this coming Valentine’s Day🥺
She will!
Bucky has something sweet planned for her and her mama.
In the meantime, Bucky is seconds from having an aneurysm because the shifty little bastard strikes again.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
AN: Written on my phone, will edit later.
"No." Bucky takes a sip of bourbon, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. A smirk lingers on his lips.
You've been, not so subtly, attempting to pry a hint out of him for the past hour. Nothing you've done so far has broken his resolve to keep his Valentine's Day plans a secret. No matter how tempting the offer.
"Please." You move to your knees, lips brushing his ear as you whisper. "Please Bucky."
His chest slowly rises and falls. You don't play fair. His heartbeat spikes when you bite his earlobe, his eyes closing. "No Malyshka."
No. You haven't heard that word come out of his mouth in forever. "What do you mean no?"
Even as the question leaves your lips, your eyes go wide. He really does have you spoiled. Bucky laughs under his breath as if he knows what's going through your mind. You push his shoulder, sitting back on your haunches.
"You'll get it when I'm ready to give it to you." Bucky raises the glass to his mouth. He doesn't have the decency to conceal how much he's enjoying teasing you. He wonders how desperate you'll get. This should be fun.
Just as you're about go to plan C, Bee runs in the living room, skidding to a stop in front of the couch. She beams up at the two of you. "Hi Papa, Hi Mommy. I was lookin' for you all over."
This is the first room she's checked.
"Hey Bee. You ready for Valentine's day?" You ask, reaching out to fix her sleeve.
"Oh I real 'cited. Frankie gave me a lot of kisses," she replies, holding up four fingers. "You get lots of kisses mommy?"
Bucky feels his stomach drop, his bourbon goes down wrong, burning a path straight down his windpipe and he coughs harshly. "What?"
He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, dropping the glass on the end table with a sharp clack that nearly shatters it. Bucky clears his throat. "Kisses?"
Bee grins, reaching into her pocket. "Yeah, he gave me some for baletine's cause he's my boyfrien'."
His gaze narrows. Jaw tightens. He knew it. He knew he was right about that little bastard. He knows a long con when he sees one. If he makes a call right now, Frankie will be enrolling in a new school by the end of the week. Preferably an ocean away from his baby.
"No," you hiss, grabbing his chin and turning his face to you. You can read him just as easily as he can read you. "No Bucky." Without breaking eye contact, you continue speaking. "What kind of kisses Bumblebee?"
"Yummy ones Mommy."
Bucky makes a pained noise in his throat. You will yourself not to giggle—it's really hard not to but you don't think Bucky could handle that on top of everything else. He's stiff as a board under your hands, so tense he might snap.
"Oh that's nice. Do you have any more?"
His brows knit, confusion warring with the panic in his deep blue gaze.
"You can has dis one," she offers, holding up a Hershey kiss wrapped in pink foil.
"Thank you, sweet Bee." You pluck it off her palm and let go of Bucky. Slowly unwrapping it, you plop the chocolate in your mouth. He deflates, avoiding your gaze as he loosens his tie with a chagrined expression. He can concede that he may have slightly overreacted.
"Frankie gots you some kisses Papa." She doesn't notice the disgusted sneer sliding across his face. "You waits right here. I gonna get them." She sprints out the room, the soft patter of her steps fading down the hallway.
"Not. A. Word."
Head tilting back, you cackle. Loudly. Boisterously. Your entire body shaking from the force of it. Bucky stares pensively in your direction, polishing off the rest of his drink while he waits for your laughter to abate.
"Oh I'm telling Steve and Sam all about this. Don't give me the look, I'm not afraid of you Barnes," you wheeze out, wiping the stray tear from your cheek.
You crawl over his lap, legs draped over the arm of the couch, your head on his shoulder. He grabs your thigh, pulling you closer. "But if you tell me what you're getting me for Valentine's Day, I might be convinced to keep my mouth shut."
Bucky weighs his options, Steve and Sam will never let him live this down or he can reveal his plans. He makes a swift decision. He doesn't have to think about it. His large, warm hand slides up your throat, and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. He smiles softly before pressing an even softer kiss on your forehead.
Head full of thoughts which feature bondage tape rn 😵💫 it’s definitely something I see dbf!bucky being into
It’s a lovely, safe way to start dabbling in bondage play. He lets you feel it before he binds your wrists, letting you appreciate just how thin the material is. It isn’t sticky. It won’t hurt. It’ll just stop you from using your hands for a little while.
“Fuck, you’re pretty like that.” His voice is a hushed whisper, enjoying the sight of your wrists bound together, anchored to the headboard.
You’re naked in front of him, your pleasure is entirely his responsibility and he knows you trust him with it.
But dear god, he wants to be selfish. He wants to indulge himself, to tease you with his fingers and tongue until you’re quivering and desperate. He wants to edge you until you’re begging, squirming underneath him but unable to give yourself the sensation you need to finish.
He wants that but that’s not what tonight is for. No matter how his cock twitches at the thought, tonight is about easing you in; letting you build your trust in the tape.
“You. Are so beautiful.” He brings your knees to your chest, binding your legs around the knees and once more around the middle of your thighs. With your body like that, it gives him perfect access to your glistening, soaking wet sex.
“You’re practically dripping.” He muses, slipping two fingers inside you, amused at the way you squirm when he curls them inside you.
“Fuck, that’s so good.” You whine, letting him hold your legs pressed where he wants them, taking the sensation for as long as he’ll give it to you.
He can’t wait much longer and in no time, he’s replaced his fingers with his cock, sinking into you as deep as he can.
The angle is overwhelming and you feel the tip of his cock rub the sweet spot inside you with every frantic thrust.
His thumb rubs your clit while he uses you and something in you wants to imagine that’s what he’s doing. He’s using you. He’s taking his pleasure from your fluttering, needy little hole and the thought of being nothing more than a toy for him has you closer to orgasm faster than you thought possible.
What’s worse for Bucky- when Bee cries or when Malyshka cries?
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.
CW: Fluff, implied smut.
When little Bee cries, Bucky automatically goes into protective dad mode.
She's a happy baby who's becoming an even happier, sweet toddler. She is also the most protected child on the east coast thanks to Bucky crafting a safe environment around her.
So Bucky knows when she's upset, it's most likely because she's tired and cranky and needs a nap. He knows how to get her to settle down, Bucky has put important meetings on hold so she could lay in his arms until she fell asleep.
She might cry when her head or tummy hurts, and like any child her age, she doesn't know how to convey what's wrong except by crying. It's okay though because Bucky can tell what's wrong by the way she behaves. And he knows how to make her feel better, whether it's with his grandma's soup or medicine hidden in some juice.
She's an active, imaginative little girl who's currently battling three dragons, it's inevitable that she's going to fall down and hurt her knee or hand. She knows all she needs to do is find her Papa and he'll help her.
Bucky has so many tips and tricks up his sleeve, things he's learned from his grandparents, friends, and the baby books he studied when Bee was still baking away in her mama's belly.
So Bucky doesn't really panic when his little girl cries because he knows that between him and her mama, they'll fix whatever is wrong.
But when his wife cries, oh that's an entirely different story.
Bucky considers himself a reasonable, level-headed man. Until someone upsets his wife. His stoic nature goes right out the window and a more primal side of him takes over. No one makes Bucky's wife cry and gets away with it. All he needs is a name and he's going to make things even.
He's an eye for an eye kinda man.
If someone makes the love of his life cry then Bucky makes them regret waking up this morning. It's more than fair.
There are other times when she cries that elicit a slighty different response from him.
When she was pregnant and hormonal, he learned to adapt to her rapidly changing, unpredictable moods. Bucky never teased her when she kept crying during movies or that one ridiculously sad commercial. He soothed and comforted her every time it happened. Let her cry on his shoulder while he rubbed her back.
If she woke up in the middle of the night in tears because she had a craving but her favorite restaurant was closed, Bucky merely made a call and would you look at that? Who knew Antonio's had a midnight delivery service, of course they serve their full menu at 1am.
Bad day? Overwhelmed and so stressed out that the only thing she can do is cry? Bucky knows a few ways to make it right, to take her mind off everything. It works. Every. Single. Time.
There is one exception to the rule.
There are a few instances when Bucky doesn't mind seeing his pretty wife with tears in her eyes.
That's when she's under him. On top of him. Bent over his desk. On all fours in front of their bedroom mirror. Mascara streaming down the sides of her face, eyes rolled back and her hands digging into his back as he goes deeper and faster.
He loves turning her into a pliant, whimpering fucked out mess. Loves seeing her struggle to take it. Loves the way he stretches her limits until she breaks around him. Loves cleaning up the mess he made.
Those tears—the ones that fill her beautiful eyes right around the time he's flipping her over and taking her for the third time that night—those tears turn him on, make him want to ruin her just a little more than he already has. So he does.
Bucky believes the only time his wife should cry is when he's making her feel so good she can't help it. That's the only exception. Anything else is unacceptable.
lets all agree to not watch the eras tour on disney+. taylor swift (our favorite private plane owner, and favorite progressive icon unless it concerns literal genocide) has plenty of money and plenty of a platform (that she doesnt use to help people suffering from a literal genocide). also, disney doesnt need your money or watch time either, not when theres a bajillion places to pirate it.
so, can we all do things that are helpful such as (at the very least), speaking out about the genocide israel is committing? you wont even be anti-semitic to do so! my source: myself. i'm jewish.
if you have a bit of money, why don't you donate or support palestinian owned businesses (instead of throwing your money at disney or ts)?
i'm not saying you cant be a swiftie or wtv, but maybe consider this before you flood to disney and start paying for her album.
at the very least:
Please help deliver support to Palestinian families; all you have to do is to click once a day for free, every day!
Summary: You help Bucky feel better when he's in a mood.
Word Count: Over 1.8k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m. receiving), possessive behavior, dirty talk, slight jealousy, threat of violence (not against reader), slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: A Sinday treat inspired by this gif! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You found Bucky in one of the interrogation rooms. He had his leather jacket on, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to leave. Taking in his rigid posture from where he sat in his chair, you guessed it wasn't a good day. You wondered what happened or what exactly was bothering him. Considering he didn't look toward you, and he had to know it was you who walked through the door, you sensed that he wasn't in the mood to talk.
It didn't mean you couldn't try and make him feel better.
“Hey, Sarge,” you said, shutting the door behind you before you walked across the room. “Bad day?” You asked, stopping a few inches in front of him.
A pair of steel blue eyes snapped toward you and you couldn't suppress the shiver that rolled down your spine. It wasn't fair that he appeared so commanding when he was the one sitting in a chair and you were on your feet. “You could say that.”
“Anything I can do to help?” You asked with an almost innocent look in your eyes as he spread his massive thighs.
“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing to his crotch with his metal hand. “You can get on your knees and suck my cock.”
Your throat went dry as you looked in his lap, watching with growing interest as his thick fingers swiftly unbuckled his belt and pants. What if someone walked in? It was no secret that you and Bucky were together, but it didn't mean anyone should have to witness any of your endeavors. Then again, wasn't the thrill of getting caught part of the fun?
“Are you sure that's what you want? You could fuck my pussy,” you offered, your panties embarrassingly damp considering he hadn't touched you. If he asked you to, you’d ride him in that chair until his eyes rolled back.
The low chuckle he let out made your throat go dry. His laughter didn't fool you. He wasn't in the mood to play or tease. “If you want my cock in your cunt so badly, you better earn it by taking me in your fucking throat first,” he growled.
Your knees just about gave out, which gave you the perfect excuse to sink to the cool floor. “Will that make you feel better?” You asked as you crawled to him and slid your hands up his legs. Your cheeks flamed under his dark gaze. It was a thing of wonder to have his full attention. “Your big cock fucking my throat? Making me swallow every drop?”
“It’s a start,” he whispered, cupping your jaw with a tender touch. His thumb reached over to trace your lips, but pulled away before you could suck the digit into your waiting mouth. “Need that pretty pussy filled, too.”
You clenched, wishing he’d shove you on the back, push your legs apart, and drive his cock in so deep you'd scream. But you wouldn't get what you wanted if you didn't take care of him first. And having his dick in your mouth was something you craved, so you would enjoy it.
“Tell me you need it,” he ordered, his tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth dragged along it.
“I need it. Need you to fuck my throat,” you begged, unzipping his jeans and peeling them down with his underwear as far as you could. His thick cock bobbed free and you couldn't help licking your lips at the sight. You gripped the base and preened when he hardened more under your touch. “It’s so big. You can choke me with it if you want to.”
He groaned, heat curling in your gut when he rocked his hips up. “Look at you. So eager for it. Bet you'd rub your pussy against my boot if I told you to just to get a taste,” he rasped, making you whine. You’d love to leave a shine on his leather. “Everyone thinks you're a good agent and a good girl, but you’re my little cockslut.”
You pouted as you looked up at him. His blue eyes had gone black, the light shining over his head giving him the appearance of a dark angel. Beautiful, tortured, and heavenly. “I’m all of those things,” you said, licking from just above where your fingers held him to the tip. “I’m a good agent and a good girl. Your good girl.”
Because if there was anyone you wanted to be good for, it was Bucky Barnes.
“Fuck,” he grunted when your enclosed your lips around the head. The taste of him bloomed on your tongue, but it was just the beginning. He’d spill down your throat by the time you were done so the very essence of him lingered. “You are, doll. You’re so good and all mine,” he said, growling the last word.
You pulled off with a sweet smile, his praise bringing out your need to please him more. “And I’m very much your cockslut. So fuck my throat, Sarge,” you said, wasting no time swallowing him down.
“Your fucking mouth,” he groaned, bringing a hand to the back of your neck.
You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked in a breath through your nose as you relaxed your throat. As tempted as you were to reach between your legs and give yourself some relief, you rested your free hand on his thigh. The muscle twitched beneath it and he would feel it if you gave him the signal to stop. You never once had to.
You took him every single time.
He touched your jaw again, making sure your mouth stayed wide open around him. He forced you to take him in deeper, his hips thrusting up as you gagged. “That’s it. Suck it just like that,” he urged, making you moan around the thick length of him. “My good girl. Everything I need right here.”
Tears blurred your vision, but they quickly spilled over. He looked back at you with half-lidded eyes, your heart pounding at the sight. You knew you looked pretty stretched around him. And you knew he wanted to keep you.
“So beautiful on your knees,” he praised, his hands moving to grip each side of your head to control the pace. You whimpered when your hand fell away and nose brushed the curls at the base of his cock. His metal thumb wiped away a tear as he made you bob your head. “Take it, doll. I know it’s a lot, but you can take it. I know you can.”
Those weren't just words to stroke his ego or your own. It was a lot to take. Drool seeped from the corners of your mouth, adding to the mess from your tear tracks and running makeup. You were certain you looked ruined, which only made you more stunning in his eyes. Because he was the cause and effect. He broke you so beautifully and put every piece back in place while leaving a bit of himself behind as a reminder of who you belonged to.
“You're my girl,” he said in a deep voice, quickening his pace as your throat contracted around him. “Mine.”
“Yours.” The muffled reply made him growl. You reached up to cup his balls, still allowing him to keep the pace. He said he wanted to fuck your throat and you wouldn't stop him, but you wanted to make him feel good.
“My dirty girl on her knees. Bet the camera’s recording us right now,” he went on, your mouth pliant as he continued to thrust. You almost forgot about the surveillance. “Should swipe the footage. Make you sit on my cock while you watch how well you take it.”
You moaned, sending more vibrations through his cock as he groaned and panted. His rhythm almost faltered when you gently squeezed, feeling him twitch in your mouth and under your hand before you let go. He was so close, chasing his release. It was getting harder to breathe, your eyes stinging with tears again, but he was almost there.
You had to get him off.
The slight drag of your teeth did the trick. “Take it. Don't waste a fucking drop,” he grunted, his face twisting and keeping your head down as his release flooded your mouth. Glancing up at him as you did your best to swallow it all, he looked like such a pretty mess, too. Parted lips, warm cheeks, pupils blown with lust. He was just as ruined as you.
No one else had that kind of power over him.
You gasped and greedily inhaled when he pulled you off of him and slumped in the chair, catching his breath, too. He groaned when your tongue went out to catch another drop that dropped from the head of his cock. Your soaked panties from having him in your mouth didn't matter. He’d get you off soon enough.
As long as he was okay from whatever bothered him earlier, that was all you cared about.
“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing the chair back and joining you on your knees. He slotted his lips against yours as he pulled you close, leaving you breathless once again as his tongue explored your mouth. You carded your fingers through his short hair as he took what he needed, his stubble leaving a slight burn on your skin.
Another subtle reminder that you were his girl.
“Better, Sarge?” You asked once he finished, your voice raw. If he wanted to talk, you’d listen.
“Much better,” he promised, his next kiss sweet and tender. The earlier tension he held in his body had disappeared, which gave you some relief. “Thank you.”
“Good,” you smiled against his lips.
He closed his eyes, his nose touching yours. “I'm not a killer anymore.”
You raised an eyebrow. Those weren't the words you were expecting to hear. “I know,” you said.
“But I had to stay here,” he said, kissing over to your ear. “Because if I bumped into the agent who touched you earlier, I would've shattered every bone in his hand.”
“Bucky,” you breathed, your heart pounding when he pulled back to stare at you. Lust lit up his eyes again, but there was an underlying rage building as his nostrils flared. Was that why he was in a mood? Because an agent had touched your arm before you said you had a boyfriend? It was so meaningless in your eyes that you had forgotten about it.
But, fuck, if this slightly possessive side wasn't hot.
“You told him you were mine because you’re my good girl. Still pissed me off that he checked you out when you walked away. Still wanted to break his hand,” he snarled, laying you on your back. “And I know your voice is a little hoarse, but I need to make you scream my name. I want everyone nearby to know you’re my girl,” he said, his eyes on you as he pointed to the camera in the far left corner. “And anyone watching.”
So, that happened. Lovelies, you may go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?
Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.
Words: 34OO
You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.
You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.
And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–
Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.
A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.
The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…
“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”
“Steve, I–”
“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”
Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.
“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.
But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.
“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”
You ignore him and focus on your breathing.
“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.
The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”
Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.
The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.
“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”
He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.
“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”
Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”
He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”
…
Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”
“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.
“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.
“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”
“Has she started to trust you?”
Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.
If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.
“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.
If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…
He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?
Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.
“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.
He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.
“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.
He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”
He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.
“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”
Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”
You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”
Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.
Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.
“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”
Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”
A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.
You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”
Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”
You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”
His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.
…
The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.
Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.
However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.
Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.
Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.
They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.
Again.
…
“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.
“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.
Bucky suppressed in his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.
“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.
Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”
Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”
Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…
Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”
The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”
He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.
Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.
And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing if course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.
Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.
Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”
Bucky can only grunt in agreement.
…
“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.
Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”
Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”
“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. “The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”
Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”
Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.
Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.
He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.
The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.
A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.
And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?
By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You're reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?
the other night i had a dream i asked something like “how come you always tell me to talk and you rarely do?” and he replied “i like your voice more.” so we know bucky is the “ask for what you want type,” but do you think he’s more or less verbal than her in bed? he’s generally quiet, do you think maybe that leads to him talking dirty more?
Oh, I love this, because I do often write about him dirty talking.
I think we all know that Bucky only speaks when he absolutely has to and even then, it's usually something sarcastic or cynical. Also, Bucky isn’t the best with words. Yes, he can lie and manipulate well, but most of that is body language and perception. It’s fascinating how few words he has to utilise to get what he wants. His skill is mainly in listening and observing and most people know this about him, so they let him.
Just as most people have the good sense to be somewhat on their guard around him, especially when Bucky doesn’t bother to be sly about keeping a close eye on everyone and everything. But he has never really been able to unnerve you. Or… Maybe he has, but it only made you talk more. You share unapologetically and you ramble and you show most of your emotions. At first, he thought it was foolish to be so open and vulnerable. Now, he can see it has probably saved your life (and others’ lives) more times than he can count. With you living, speaking and feeling so out in the open, he doesn’t have to pay so much attention to you.
And yet…
The man cannot stop himself from paying attention to anything other than you. Everything else just kind of blurs. It mostly amuses everyone around Bucky how distracted he gets. They pull petty little pranks when he isn’t paying attention. And they fail awkwardly, because Bucky might be smitten, but he’s still a trained soldier.
So yes, Bucky is quiet and you’ve always known that about him. You expected him to be more quiet in bed, too. But he has learned that he loves how responsive you are and it just so happens that you get more responsive when he speaks to you. When Bucky has his tongue buried between your legs or his cock hitting your cervix, he usually grounds you by splaying a wide palm over your back, or thigh, or tummy. However, Bucky has found he likes the way you shudder when he mumbles against your neck or the shell of your ear. He likes how you can only respond with a soft mewl when he uses his voice.
Sometimes he asks you a question and then drives his cock into you with a thorough thrust at the end, making you writhe under him and choke on air. Then he nuzzles his nose over your pulse with a soft laugh. “Who’s the quiet one now, huh?”
You want to answer him, you do, but fuck– his fingers are at your clit and his teeth bite into your collar bone and he’s moaning and– and– Oh God… But he talks you through it. Every step of the way. Teasing. Coaxing. Soothing. Praising.
“That’s the spot.”
“Look at you,” when your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Hug me tighter, sweetheart,” he’ll groan when you clench around him tightly. “Fuck. Good girl.”
“That’s my girl,” when you come. And the sounds you make - that will have him nearly go blind with pleasure. “There you go. Keep coming for me.”
The first day of any new job was always the hardest — all the rules and roles to navigate while establishing yourself as someone reliable, trustworthy, and far too interested in your employer.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕
୨୧ 8.3k
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔
୨୧ Swearing, pet names, fluff, slight angst/insecurity, pining, unspecified age gap, Bucky is a shameless flirt and he knows it, extreme sexual tension/implied smut, heated kissing, there is a kid in this fic
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔
୨୧ Happy belated birthday, @duckybarnes1917 — I hope you enjoy the torturous collection I came up with just for you, love you long time. 😘
୨୧ This AU and fic itself have skyrocketed into my personal top 5. I threw my all into this and I am fucking proud of it.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔
୨୧ greedy by Tate McRae
୨୧ Like U by Rosenfeld
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂
୨୧ @smutconnoisseur — thank you for dealing with my flying by the seat of my pants attitude because oh my god—
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔
୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo
჻჻჻ Babysitting (December), Teasing (January), Single Parent (February)
— Masterlist
჻჻჻ Aggressive Flirting (February)
— Masterlist
୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — DILF AU
— Masterlist
୨୧ @mcukinkbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Mistaken for a couple
— Masterlist
୨୧ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗚𝟮 — First Kiss
— Masterlist
୨୧ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine
— Masterlist
𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The advertisement was like any other — a father looking for a babysitter to watch over his little girl while he worked, and from what you could gather, the father worked a prestigious job that took up a substantial amount of time when he had to visit the office.
A sweet little girl that adored princesses and coloured her days away, if her description was anything to be believed, and you applied for the position straight away, not wasting a moment before you sent all of your credentials through. It seemed a perfect fit.
To your shock (and relief), you heard back from your new employer within the hour.
James Barnes, a leading engineer in his field of cutting-edge prosthetics, called you in the next half hour, voice deep and honeyed with a hidden sense of cunning curiosity. The conversation was brief before he invited you over for a drink — of your choice, “You can have whatever you want, doll, I don’t mind,” he purred after you stuttered a shocked, nonsensical reply.
It was intoxicating, the sound of his voice lulling into fantasies that your majorly unhelpful mind conjured after that encounter. The memory was barely definable through your lust fuelled recollections of your shared drinks.
Over time, after spending time with the both of them, it took all of your willpower to not be lulled towards the forbidden curiosities you held for your new employer. He was enigmatic, playful, curious, and lethally charming with a smile to match — one that danced in your daydreams and slumber with far too sinful results.
The rapport with your new charge came over easy, a blessed relief that instilled a confidence in you; a job that would both be a smooth and interesting challenge, sans complications of a tantruming child.
James, however, quickly made it his mission to fluster you at every turn: asking you about your day and praising you for the smallest, littlest things, to bringing you home flowers and treats when he walked in the door to greet you.
It never failed to make heat creep up your neck, and never failed to land elsewhere.
You were no stranger to attraction, but James was something else — a broad, older man, single father to a little girl, incredibly handsome and intelligent, and far too suave for his own good. Just the thought of his attention made you feel giddy with the rush of endorphins.
One particular video call stuck in your mind to this day, a loop of his voice and soft, enamoured expression on repeat. Both of you were discussing the particular habits of his little girl: how she loved certain movies and detested others, where she loved to have her meals and with what plush teddies and dolls had to sit with her, and so on, so forth.
It was heartwarming to bear witness how much he adored his daughter, a clear example of love and devotion you’d only seen in very few circumstances.
“She doesn’t mind having other movies,” James said, and the camera panned to the little girl happily playing with her dolls. “It’s just– She will pout and whine if she doesn’t get, y’know, that movie.”
You chuckled and noted it down on a piece of paper. “And we’re not saying the name of that movie because–?”
The phone’s camera flipped back to show James’ fearful expression, wide, bright eyes staring directly into the screen and through to your soul. “It’s because I don’t want a riot in my living room,” he said carefully, around your laughter — you couldn’t help it, he was too dramatic. “Besides, I would rather spend my time talking to my pretty Fawn.”
The use of the pet name he reserved for only you made you splutter and hide — tilting the camera to the ceiling as you bit your lip hard enough for it to almost bleed. “Aw, come back,” James teased, “I was enjoying seeing your face—not the damned ceiling.”
You were sure it was some kind of sin for how often that comment played in your mind during the late hours of the night, but you couldn’t help it.
In such a short span of time, you fell hard for your boss, the father of your charge, and it was a hell of a forbidden rush to think of him in such a way — above you, pinning you to the surface while he fucked you deep, hard, and fast. The deep, animalistic grunts that would fall from his lips, or the praises he’d sing of how tight you were for him.
Not to mention, the way his deep, chocolate brown hair would fall from his shoulders to hang between your bodies, the ends of it tickling your skin when he would pull out; only to thrust hard back into your cunt with a wrecked, gravelly moan.
The clatter of your fork on your plate made you jump a mile high, and you came back to reality with a crash to find the sun casting its bright rays over the breakfast nook in your apartment. “Fuck, fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head to clear the heated images while your thighs clenched traitorously at the visual and auditory vision. “Goddammit.”
What lay ahead, however, made the burning thoughts turn to butterflies in your stomach. Today was the day, your first real test: a full day packed to the brim with activities you planned that would suit the young, imaginative mind you no doubt believed the girl to have, given who her father was.
A loud chime sounded next to you, and you gasped in fright. “Shit!” you cursed, and you scrambled to grab your phone.
Speaking of the devil; James’ name flashed at the bottom of your screen, and you read the text with an unparalleled eagerness.
She just woke up and she’s already screaming about her new friend visiting today. We’re excited to see you, Fawn.
Attached to the text was a picture of the little girl you affectionately called Starlet. She was holding a drawing up to the camera that had no doubt been hastily created — it was you, James, and her holding hands. The movement she artistically captured led you to assume the three of you were dancing in front of the giant, scribbled rainbow in the background.
Tears welled in your eyes at the soft warmth that bloomed in your chest — only having had prominently video calls with her, she already considered you a friend.
Memories pulled at your mind again, and you thought back to the time you received a video call from Starlet one evening — it was just starting to grow dark when your phone chimed, and you answered it without a second thought after seeing your employer’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
A bright, smiling face stared at you through the screen.
“Oh, hello, honey!” you said happily. “What are you up to?” Then you remembered that she was a crafty, cunning little girl. With a sterner tone, you pressed on in the interrogation, “Where’s your dad—have you taken his phone again?”
“No, I’m here, Fawn,” James called distantly, and he laughed. “Starlet wanted to say hello—I’m just cooking dinner, you don’t mind, do you? Are we keeping you from something?”
“Nope.” The cushions against your back suddenly became very comfortable, now that you had company of your favourite two people. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart,” you asked of Starlet, and the little girl flew into an explanation that lasted one whole hour.
It was only when James took his phone back did you have a moment to catch your reeling mind, only for it to start spinning at the sight of his broad, handsome smile.
The phone in your hand buzzed once more, pulling you from the reverie. James sent another message asking if you would bring more of a specific set of gel pens — Starlet had taken to them and never quieted down about how sparkly they were.
A giggle escaped from your lips in the quiet of your home, and your thumbs flew over the keyboard to type back: Sure can. I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ll be there soon!
“Okay,” you said to yourself, picking up your plate of now stone-cold breakfast. “Let’s do this.”
You ignored the heavy weight of the secret bearing down on your mind as you padded down the hallway to your bedroom; how wrong it was to fall for your damned employer and harbour the lust over him, but you couldn’t help but revel in the thrill of it.
After dressing comfortably, you made sure to grab an extra set of gel pens for the princess that awaited you before you walked out the door, locking it behind you.
The journey to James’ home was thankfully uneventful, and you pulled up to where your directions led.
Your mouth fell slack with shock at what you found awaiting you.
The driveway to James’ home was sprawling in the length and design. Flowering hedges lined either side of the luxuriously paved road, and there was a water feature — a water feature, you thought incredulously, placed dead centre in front of a set of stairs that led to a massive, windowed, double set of doors.
“No wonder the pay was that high, he’s rich.” Your car travelled silently up the way while you took in the opulence of your new surroundings.
To the left of the stairway leading to the front door, was an empty space next to a fancy SUV. “I hope that’s for me,” you mumbled, and you parked your car while sure to leave space between the vehicles. The handbrake creaked and the engine shut off with a shudder, the sound of it made you grimace. “I have to get this checked; sooner rather than later.”
With no time to pause and consider your misfortune with vehicles, you slid out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk to fetch the bag of delightful craft supplies you readied for Starlet. Through your raging nerves, you managed to hum a song quietly as you placed the strap over your shoulder.
The sole of your shoes padded over the pavement of the driveway, and the mansion that loomed ahead of you in its majesty — the architecture alone made it appear like something from the cover of a magazine.
“Whoa,” you breathed, spinning in place to take it all in. The beauty and aesthetic of the home was unmatched in the tidiness of the landscaping, and the facade of the home highlighted the contrasting use of colours in both the wood and steel that made up the accents. “Holy–”
A squeal of glee cut your admiration short, and one of the double doors of the home flew open to reveal a small girl dashing down the steps, clothed in a typical sparkly, princess dress. “Hi!”
“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling backwards with the force of the child’s hug. “Goodness, hello! You must be the little Starlet, huh?” The comment was teasing — you knew for certain this was your charge, but the girl beamed up at you through her fly-away hair.
“Yeah,” Starlet giggled. Her small arms, decorated in sparkly lace, squeezed you tighter.
A deep voice tinged with the worry only a parent could possess, suddenly called from the stairs. “Starlet! Honey–? Don’t run off on me like that–” They stopped, and you looked up — the breath in your lungs escaped as though you’d been punched in the diaphragm. “Fawn!”
You blinked, unable to form the words that would accurately depict the sight before you.
James was smiling — the very same one that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. The tight, navy blue, rounded collar shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, while black dress pants hugged his thighs.
It was true, you had seen him numerous times via your video calls and once in person, but nothing came close to preparing you for how he would be in the comfort of his own home; how his voice was just as deep, if not deeper, and trickled down your spine with the same heat as molten lava.
Oh, fuck, you thought.
Aloud, you said, “Mr. Barnes!”
James grinned and shook his head. “Fawn, sweetheart—please call me Bucky.” He neared you, his presence overwhelmingly close, and he leaned in for a hug that you nervously returned — all the while praying the hammering beat of your heart couldn’t be heard or felt against his muscled chest. “It’s good to see you again,” he rumbled, pulling away to look you up and down, and his eyes landed on your bag. “I’ll take that for you.”
“Th– Thanks,” you stuttered; the proximity allowed you to stare into his grey-blue eyes, a mix of colours you wished to capture and keep.
Bucky’s hand brushed against yours when he grabbed your bag, but he kept that same, priceless smile on his lips. “We started the princess marathon early, if you couldn’t tell,” he added, looking down at the ball of energy that was his daughter.
You grinned down at the little girl. “I can’t wait—I found so many things we can do, Starlet, and they all involve princesses.”
Starlet took off like a shot towards the front doors and into the house, her screech of glee loud enough to wake the neighbours — Bucky stood next to you wincing, while you rubbed your ear that was closest to the front door. The ringing only died down slightly.
“Oh, boy,” you muttered, “Someone’s a bit excited.”
Bucky laughed. The sound rich and something you terribly needed to hear again.
You looked at him, taking in his profile while he still stared towards the doorway of his home. The hair that looked almost black on the phone, was a deep, deep brown — where the sun bled through the surrounding trees, it shone a beautiful hazelnut. It was loose down his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed with only a few grey patches to be seen.
The sign of his age made him all the more attractive — allowing a sense of maturity and allure to his already swoon worthy appearance.
“So,” you hastily started, willing the heat that started to build in your stomach to simmer instead of boil. “You’re off for a full day in the office?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Bucky replied, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you up to his home. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings that I can’t put off any longer, given my associates and their… inability to manifest a sense of patience. And I don’t like taking Starlet if I can help it—she’s such an active girl and she hates sitting in the corner.”
“That’s fair.” The stairs beneath your feet exhumed luxury you felt you couldn’t even stand in the presence of. “Have you been looking for a babysitter for long–?”
Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Curious one, aren’t you, Fawn?”
“I–”
“I’m just messing with you, honey,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “And to answer you, yeah, I have. They all either were too uptight or couldn’t handle how hyperactive Starlet is—‘cause as you may have noticed, she’s a lot–”
“She is not!” You frowned and looked towards the inside of the house where Starlet was no doubt impatiently waiting for your presence. “She’s beautiful and sweet—creative and passionate, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Thanks, honey,” he said softly, earnestly. The smile he gave you made butterflies erupt where there were flames only seconds ago.
Bucky walked you through the threshold of the front door, and you gasped loudly at the interior — it was a brightly lit, open spaced home with only counters and half walls to divide up the rooms, and there were numerous hallways that lead off of the main area. A grand staircase led to the upper floors.
“This is beautiful,” you said breathlessly, awestruck by the beauty. On the upper level, you heard the fast footsteps of a little girl running around, to gather things to show her new friend, you assumed, but what you focused on was Bucky’s prideful expression; a man that was happy and proud of the space he built for his family. “Really, really beautiful, Bucky. Wow.”
“You know how to make a fella feel special, Fawn,” he muttered bashfully with an accent you loved more than would ever admit to. A playful sense of amusement grew as you spotted a dusting of pink over his high cheekbones.
The air crackled with tension as Bucky looked up from the floor and into your eyes.
Before you could open your mouth and say something on instinct, Bucky looked towards the kitchen, then back at you. “Come here.”
He led you into the sprawling kitchen — the size of it far too big to comprehend with counter space akin to a working, industrial kitchen. A ringed index finger pointed to the fridge. “Now, before you go getting any ideas of spoiling Starlet rotten…”
There was a teasing tone to his voice, and it was raised to be loud enough for a certain pair of little ears to hear.
You looked to where he was pointing and saw a whiteboard hanging high on the door. Neat, orderly writing on one side; childish scrawl on the other. It had rules listed in bullet form: no extra chocolate, no extra sugar, in bed by eight…
“As you can see,” Bucky said, still in that raised tone. His eyes wandered to the upstairs loft that was above the kitchen, and you didn’t repress the urge to grin at him. “There are rules to follow, and Starlet agreed to them; do not let her convince you otherwise–”
“But daddy,” a petulant voice whined. You only just managed to stifle your laughter. “She didn’t have to know.”
“Starlet Barnes,” Bucky scolded, and the laughter you worked so hard to bite back almost broke free as he put his hands on his cocked hips, staring up at the loft. Your gaze followed his eye line and you saw the aforementioned troublemaker peering down between the railing, a deep pout on her lips. “You promised me you would behave, honey. Now come down here so I can say goodbye—daddy’s gotta go to work or he’ll be late.”
A loud whine followed Bucky’s words, and he shook his head before he looked at you. “Those are the rules, for her, anyway.”
You blinked. “What–”
The same fast footsteps from before now pelted down the stairs, and Starlet launched herself into Bucky’s arms, giggling as he lifted her small body from the floor and into the air with a grunt. “Are you going to behave for Fawn, honey?” he asked, resting Starlet on his side so her legs swung over his front and back. “You promised me you would, remember?”
Your heart swooped and lodged itself in your throat with the display of paternal affection.
“Yeah, I will,” Starlet replied, her small hands grabbing Bucky’s stubbled cheeks. “Daddy, you need to shave.”
No he does not, you thought privately.
“Thanks,” he replied, and he blew a raspberry on her chubby cheek. “Okay, be on your best behaviour; manners, honey, use them.”
“Mhm,” Starlet hummed. Bucky placed her gently down onto the floor, and her little, sparkled flats made a small click click sound as she walked towards you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”
You offered your hand to hold, and she took it eagerly, swinging your arm back and forth while Bucky grabbed his briefcase and bag. “I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t wait up for me,” he said to you. “Feel free to eat whatever or order in, my card is here–” He shoved a black card from his wallet into your free hand before you could protest. “And– Yeah, I’ll be back.”
“Bye, daddy!” Starlet called, pulling you along behind Bucky — who’s broad shoulders and muscled back was unfairly shown off by the cut of his shirt. “Talk to you later–”
“I promise, honey, I’ll call Fawn and say goodnight.” A dark blazer was pulled from its coat rack, and Bucky shrugged it on before he smoothed the wrinkles in the fabric, quicker than you could offer as you so desperately wanted to. “And in bed by eight, no later, understood?”
“Yes, sir.” You saluted, and the look Bucky shot you made you gulp — pure heat blazed in his eyes, and the flames that licked up your spine you dampened before reignited with a roar. “We– We’ll be good,” you stammered, praying to anyone that would listen above that you could survive the night with that visual at the forefront of your mind.
Bucky smiled and walked back to kiss his daughter on the cheek. Then, to your absolute mix of horror and surprise, he kissed your forehead, too. “My good girls,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’ll talk to you later.”
And the door closed with a finality that left you reeling.
“Can we go colour?” Starlet asked innocently, her bright eyes blinking up at you. “Daddy said he left me the best pencils and you brought pens?”
“Uh– Yeah, yeah—sure, we can go colour, sweetheart,” you said. Focus, you reminded yourself inwardly.
For hours, you spent your time between the set of plush couches in the expansive living room and marathoning movies that ranged from cartoons to the most ridiculous animations, to a small child’s table — colouring with the closest thing you would ever come to spending time with royalty.
Starlet certainly took it in her stride to act like a princess.
“But daddy said I could–”
“Go look at the fridge,” you said, smirking — you knew for a fact that she was attempting to pull the wool over your eyes. A deceptive, little lamb. “Daddy put the rules up there and he said, before he left, that you agreed to them—didn’t you, Starlet?”
Small, pink lips pouted heartily, and she stomped off towards the fridge, her shoes thudding over the floor. “Ugh.”
“Ugh, indeed.”
The night began to wind down a few hours later, and after colouring the whole duration, you decided a movie would be the best course of action to break up the monotony and brewing tantrum in the wriggling girl opposite you.
As a treat, you allowed Starlet to play a movie while she ate — only after she swore to you that she wouldn’t tell Bucky. The ploy worked, for as well as any child loved the idea of a secret, she fell head over heels into the sworn secrecy and happily tucked into her dinner while the princesses on the TV screen sang another rendition of the chorus.
You couldn’t help but watch her from the kitchen counter, where you were tidying away the dishes. It was with curiosity you admired the similarities between Starlet and her father, what you found and discerned during the short time of knowing the pair of them.
Starlet had the same bright eyes, the colour of her irises as beautiful as her father’s with the addition of an irreplaceable hint of childish awe and wonder. Her hair fell in waves; shades of what you could only describe as beautiful in the strands that prominently populated her temples to crown.
A sudden sense of contentment flooded you while you continued to gaze at her. Being invited and accepted into such a space was rewarding.
It was evident that Starlet’s birth mother was no longer in the picture, and you never planned to ask or know more than what you were told, but still, you wondered how Bucky was not snatched up. He was a charming, sweet man that adored his daughter — you would be lying if you didn’t take to heart the imagined scenarios that played over and over in your mind, of what it would be like just to be part of such domestic bliss.
The loud chime of your phone startled you from your thoughts, and you exhaled sharply just as Starlet’s head peered up and over the back of the couch. “Is that daddy?”
You looked down at your phone’s screen, smiling, and said, “Yeah, hang on, I’ll come sit with you and we can talk to him.” The screen flashed with colour as you swiped to accept his video call, and you were greeted with his bright smile.
“Hey, Fawn,” Bucky said happily, though he looked exhausted — the furrow between his brow had deepened in his absence from home. “How are my girls, huh? Behaving, I hope.”
“We’re here, we just finished having dinner,” you said, angling the phone to show a distracted Starlet, sans her plate (that of which had hastily been placed on the coffee table in front of the couch), and then back to you. “Starlet jumped up on the couch with me to say hello.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so? Alright, where’s my little girl?”
Starlet scrambled to sit right beside you, and her happy expression filled the screen while you chuckled. “Daddy!”
“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his smile heart-warmingly fond. “Have you had a good day with Fawn?”
“Yeah,” she replied, nodding quickly. “We coloured and then watched movies and coloured more and–”
“A lot of princess duties,” you cut in, and Starlet giggled, her chubby cheeks turning pink with a blush. “We are in the presence of royalty, Sir Barnes.”
“Oh, do forgive me, your highness,” he replied with wide eyes. The camera shook as he moved, and you saw his desk top scattered with papers before the phone settled upright, pointing towards Bucky’s office chair. He bowed deeply — either intentionally, or ignorantly allowing his hair to fall over his face. When he looked up to the screen, loose tendrils of hair covered his forehead and danced over his eyes.
The last reserves of your self-preservation and dignity vanished as you tried to force your heart to not burst free from its new home in your throat — the way his eyes appeared through the slicked strands was an image you would never let escape.
“I humbly request an audience with the Princess.” Bucky neared the camera again, smirking — the bastard knew, you panicked.
Before you could spiral, beside you, Starlet said fiercely, “Of course, Sir Daddy.” She shifted to better look at the screen. “The Princess always has time for uh–”
“King, or knight,” you whispered into her ear.
“Knight!”
“How generous.” Bucky laughed heartily. He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands, showing off the glint of his rings and the generous muscle exposed on his forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. “Ah, my girls,” he sighed, looking into the camera. “I shouldn’t be too much longer—Uncle Stevie is being a punk–”
“Uncle Steeb!” Starlet squealed.
“Yes, uncle Steeb,” he echoed, and he looked off camera. “Get over here, she wants to see you.”
“Is that my favourite niece?” A second voice called, the volume increasing as they neared the desk. Starlet was positively vibrating out of her seat with excitement.
“Well, well, well,” they said, and suddenly, another handsome face came into view. He had blond hair that was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed — deep, blue eyes glanced between you and Starlet with interest. “It is—hey, Bug!”
“Uncle Steeb! Uncle Steeb!” Starlet launched herself at the phone to hug the device to her chest and toppled it from your grip. “Oh– I sorry–”
“Don’t you worry, honey,” you soothed, and you ruffled her hair. “Just be careful, okay? Hang on, let’s pick this up–” The phone had thankfully been undamaged in the fall, and you smiled at the two men staring up at you with concern.
“You two okay?” Bucky asked — he was poised as though to run at a seconds notice.
“Yeah, all is good,” you replied, settling back on the couch. “Here you are, sweetie.”
Starlet held the phone as though it was a priceless jewel, and she spoke to her father and apparent uncle with such vigour it was as though she hadn’t seen them in weeks, rather than just a day. The topics broached what the princesses in the movie did, to what she coloured — it was an endless tirade of excitement that only made you smile as you watched on.
Soon enough, she started to yawn, though she tried to minimise and hide them. A father’s keen eye was not to be underestimated, however. “Baby, I think you better get to bed—it is close to eight,” Bucky said softly.
You glanced at the top of your phone’s screen to check the time for yourself, and you blinked — it was only seven when he first called.
“I’ll be home soon, and I will come and kiss you goodnight, okay? Fawn can put you to bed; she’s pretty good at bedtime stories, I hear.”
She looked up at you through glazed eyes. “You are?”
“I am,” you confirmed with a proud nod. “Why don’t you say goodnight to daddy now and we can get you set up and comfy in bed?”
“‘Kay,” Starlet mumbled sleepily. “G’night, daddy. I love you.”
Bucky smiled. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll come give you a kiss when I get home, I promise.”
You ended the call with a promise to do your best impression of the characters for Bucky, and beside you, Starlet sighed happily. “I love daddy; I love uncle Steeb.”
“I see that,” you chuckled quietly. “Now, c’mon, up you get—bedtime for her highness.”
It turned out to be a smooth, tantrum-free process, readying Starlet for sleep — she followed your guidance to a tee and had the independence to fit her title when it came time to pick out her favourite pyjamas.
She settled into the cocoon of blankets and plush toys that took up more room than her own small self on her bed, and you smiled down at her as you sat on the edge. Her small hand in yours made your heart leap.
There was a strange glint in her eye when she uttered your name sleepily. You raised a brow in curiosity. “Yes, honey?”
“Are you daddy’s friend?”
“Yes,” you said honestly, smiling. “Your daddy is a kind, thoughtful man. I am happy to be his friend—why do you ask, sweetheart?”
“I–” She swallowed and furrowed her small brows. “He told me one time that there are special friends, and I– I–”
“Oh, Starlet– No, no honey,” you rushed, desperately smothering the rising panic in your chest at her implementation — the curious nature of a child was never to be scolded, but you did not think you could stomach this conversation, not on the first damned night of being under his employment. “I work for your daddy, and my job is to look after you when he can’t, okay? That doesn’t mean I am, uh– A special friend of your daddy’s.”
As much as I wish to be, you whined internally — though saying that aloud would be catastrophic, you had no doubt about that. Focus.
“Oh.” That same thoughtful gleam returned in her eyes, and you braced for another round of interrogation — as intimidating as a child’s questions could be. “Well, I think you would be a nice special friend for daddy. He smiles a lot when he sees you.”
It was your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. Words failed and escaped you; scattering to the winds, never to be seen again, while Starlet did nothing but stare up at you innocently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.
“Uh– Ha, well.” You coughed and leaned back a little, willing your mind to connect back with an acceptable train of thought. “Um– Thank you, thank you for that, sweetheart. That’s very sweet of you.”
Starlet beamed, brighter than the stars above. “You’re welcome.”
When she finally dozed off to sleep after your indulgent tale of Rapunzel, you padded ever so quietly from her bedroom and carefully closed the door with a soft click behind you.
You only made it a few steps towards the staircase before you had to stop and think — the dull thump of your back and shoulders hitting the wall made you grimace and look to Starlet’s door, though she did not rouse.
“Oh my fucking god,” you rasped, rubbing your face with your hands, distorting the sound of your distress. “Goddammit all, ugh.”
Desperation and pure want clawed at your insides, savaging your attempts to control your impulses; the need for Bucky’s attention blew out of proportion tenfold with the words from his daughter.
Carefully, you tiptoed down the stairs, one by one, until you stood in the kitchen.
“He smiles—he smiles when he talks about me,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet sound of your feet padding over the tile grew in volume while you paced back and forth. “Bucky smiles—oh fucking hell.”
A war raged in your mind, split equal sides by morality and need; one side dead set on preventing you from making a fool of yourself, the other hell bent on allowing you in the indulgence of recklessness.
The possibility of it all not backfiring upon you was slim at best, but something nagged– No, pulled at your thoughts: what if Bucky felt the same?
“No, no,” you said aloud, grimacing. “That’s not possible—I can’t– He can’t, he’s older, successful–”
Your tirade was interrupted by a sudden beep from the security panel by the front door. “Front gate opened.”
“Shit.” You rushed to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The fancy SUV that was parked next to your car before pulled into the driveway, headlights on and engine purring.
A heavy exhale of relief fell from your lips, and you resolutely decided to push the dilemma of his affection to the side; a project for the back burner that was your ever running mind.
The SUV parked and fell silent, the headlights and taillights dimming, and you turned back around towards the kitchen to heat up two plates of dinner in the oven — silently thanking your decision to make extra.
Footsteps sounded by the front door, and it swung open, not even creaking. “Fawn?” Bucky called quietly, his voice lowered so as to not awake Starlet upstairs. “Honey, where are you?”
“Kitchen—getting dinner for us.”
Soft footfalls came from the entryway and towards the kitchen, when Bucky rounded the corner. You smiled at him, which he returned tiredly. “Hey, how was Starlet? You okay?”
“She was great, we had fun, and she was sweet. I learned that Rapunzel is far superior over Sleeping Beauty, but nothing, of course, beats her ultimate favourite.” The oven behind you beeped, and you turned to open it and fetch the dish of food, but Bucky put a hand on your elbow and gestured for you to continue with your tale as he grabbed the oven mitts. “And she tried to worm more chocolate out of me, naturally.”
Bucky’s laugh sounded rich and deep, a sound you wished you could hear over and over. “I knew she would.” The dish in his hands was placed onto the countertop, and you set to cutting portions to eat; surreptitiously making sure Bucky had more than his fair share.
“Do you want to watch–”
“Why don’t we sit on the–”
The two of you stared at one another, eyes wide and smiles playing at the corners of your lips. “You first,” Bucky offered, chuckling quietly.
“I, uh– Do you want to sit on the couch–?”
“Sure, honey,” he replied, and he picked up your plate with his free hand. “Grab us a drink?”
You took a deep breath when Bucky turned his back to you. You’ve got this, you intoned.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and you were grateful for it — while it was your job and your pleasure to look after Bucky’s daughter, the little girl sure had boundless amounts of energy, and it was hard work keeping up with her.
After clearing your plate, you set it down onto the coffee table. Bucky was still going, so you settled into the plush cushions and watched the plain, mindless show without taking it in.
“Fawn, sweetheart?” Bucky whispered suddenly; voice close enough that you could feel the exhale of breath with his words.
You startled and blinked rapidly — the room was dark, the TV off and the lights dimmed.
“There you are,” Bucky cooed. He was sitting right next to you, his hand on your knee as he half faced you. “You fell asleep, honey—you feeling okay?”
“Oh– I, uh– Shit, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, sitting up. The blackened screen of the TV reflected the clock in the kitchen to show that it was only nine at night. “I better go—you no doubt want to go to sleep soon after such a big day–”
“Fawn, hey– Stop, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed, and he put a hand on your shoulder — the heat from his palm made your mind whirr with possibilities. “It’s okay. I let you sleep; you looked dead on your feet. I only woke you up because I thought you’d want to go home to your partner.”
Heat bloomed over your chest and up your neck, the way Bucky was staring at you made something stir that you would much rather stay dormant. “I, uh– Don’t have a partner, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.
The silence could have engulfed you whole — tension billowed in the air, and you fidgeted, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said eventually, and you shivered at the sound of his voice; lowered an octave and raspy with what you guessed was shock. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have assumed. But let’s get you home, okay?”
“Yeah,” you agreed, getting to your feet.
Bucky handed you your bag, all neatly packed and organised, and walked you to the front door and down the front steps. “I don’t mean to presume, but can I ask you back again to watch Starlet–?” he asked, looking at you.
“Of course,” you blurted, and you meant it. “She was a fun bundle of energy, and you know how to contact me if you need me again.”
You tried, wholeheartedly, to fight the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as Bucky opened your car door, and then took your bag to place it in the trunk. In a roundabout way, you wished he would be insufferable, even arrogant in his disposition — it would have made it easier to banish the swelling crescendo of want that started to consume you.
“Will you message me when you get home?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, nodding. “I– I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Bucky brought you close in an embrace you returned, and you savoured the warmth of his body; the feel of his arms around you as he held you tight.
Though it had to end.
You pulled away, out of his hold, and moved to sit in the driver’s seat of your car.
“Get home safe, Fawn.” Bucky closed the door after you tucked your feet into the well, and he leaned against the side of your car.
“I will.” You smiled up at him, and then you turned the keys in the ignition.
The car spluttered and clunked back to silence. Bucky was looking towards the hood of your car with concern. “Oh, it’s just temperamental,” you said to reassure him, and yourself.
You tried again; you tried a third time, but there was only a piteous groan from the engine before it gave in, falling silent each time. “Great, just great,” you muttered angrily, cursing your luck that carried on from when the car first showed signs of kicking the bucket. “Fuck.”
“Pop the bonnet,” Bucky said, adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll take a look.”
Oh, boy, you groaned internally at the sight of his forearms flexing again, but you complied.
The metal creaked and groaned its protest of movement when Bucky pulled the hood up, locking it in place with one hand while the other dug into the engine bay. A determined frown pulled his pretty lips at the corner. “The old girl is on her last legs,” he gritted out through clenched teeth while he fiddled and yanked at parts of the engine. “The mounts are close to giving out and it looks like the battery is… well, fucked.”
You sighed, the sound hitching on a frustrated sob. “Can you– Can you call me a cab? I’ll get someone to come tow it in the morning, or something–”
“Fawn,” Bucky said fiercely, and he looked at you while he closed the hood of your traitorous car. “Do you think I’m going to send you home with some stranger when you’re clearly and rightfully upset?”
“But–”
“But fucking nothing, sweetheart,” he insisted, his tone somehow soft — like he cared. “Please, I have a spare bedroom—fuck, I have several, and you are welcome to any one of them until we can get you home tomorrow.”
The use of a curse drove his point home, so did the earnest glare in his eyes.
Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you gestured at yourself. “But I haven’t brought clothes– What about Starlet in the morning? She doesn’t know–” She will get the wrong idea; Bucky doesn’t know what she’s said, you silently fretted, but there was no way to give voice to your worries, not in your distress.
“Honey, please, you can use some of my old clothes—they’ll be comfortable, and you’ll be modest. Just let me help you,” Bucky implored. He held a hand out, an offering to guide you back inside. “We can work it all out in the morning. I’m off tomorrow, and hell, Starlet would love having a friend over for breakfast—it’s pancakes and bacon.”
“That does sound pretty good,” you murmured, wringing your hands. The nagging feeling of imposing upon his hospitality would not dissipate, though. “Are you sure? I–”
Bucky shook his head, an exasperated smile on his lips. “C’mere, Fawn,” he said, and he slung his arm over your shoulder. You attempted to clamp your jaw shut around the shocked sound in your throat. “I’m sure. I can’t leave my Fawn high and dry; not when I can help.”
“Okay,” you squeaked, and you allowed Bucky to lead you back into the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms.
Without a word, he paused at the top of the stairs and retracted his arm, hanging it by his side as he walked towards a larger, single door — you moved to follow him, but he placed his index finger over his lips, before he disappeared behind it. The house was silent in the absence of Starlet’s giggles and rambling rants of royalty, and you found yourself fidgeting in place while you waited for that door to open again.
As though he heard you, Bucky opened the door and walked towards you, offering a worn, soft, black henley, and a pair of dark sweats. “Back in my twenties,” he began, smiling down at the offered clothes, “I was twice the size—fucking obsessed with vanity. But these will be comfortable.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, taking the offered clothes. The movement made your fingers brush against his, and something changed — the air grew thick with crackling energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “I– I will, uh, talk to you in the morning?”
Bucky nodded and stepped back; you tried not to whine from the loss of his proximity — luck was not on your side. Something must have shown of your inward pleading in your expression.
“Fawn?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “You okay, sweetheart? You look–” He licked his lips, the action drawing your whole attention. “You look lost.”
“I’m fine,” you replied weakly, and you nodded once as though it would make it reality. Truthfully, you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole — the late hour naturally stripped you of your inhibitions, and God…
You cursed temptation to the high heavens.
“You sure?” Bucky asked, and he stepped closer again, his presence looming near enough to make your heart thunder against the confines of your throat.
“Mhm.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, and stepped forward again — you stepped back, forcing yourself not to melt onto the floor with how your knees shook. “Sweetheart… There’s something you’re not tellin’ me.”
The sudden dryness in your throat made you cough, and your eyes watered with the reflex. Bucky stepped closer and you backtracked until your heels hit the skirting board, your shoulders and back following close behind. “I– Ja– I mean, Bucky–”
His hands moved to either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. “Yeah?”
Your mouth parted in shock, but nothing came to mind to defend yourself, or any urge to push him away.
Bucky hummed, tilting his head. “Fawn, you know if this isn’t okay you are more than welcome to knee me where the sun doesn’t shine—but look at you.” The breathy quality of Bucky’s voice made your stomach knot with arousal.
This was wrong, your mind screamed; this is what you want, your heart shouted.
“You’re desperately fighting against something, I see it; it's in your pretty eyes, baby,” he purred. “Talk to me—tell me what’s wrong, why are you fightin’?”
Bucky’s face loomed closer to yours, his lips parted only slightly, and you prayed for strength as you fisted his shirt, to pull or push him away, you couldn’t decipher — he was so, so close, if only you just reached out–
“What are you fightin’, my little Doe?”
“Oh– Bucky, please–” Thoughts swirled and escaped your grasp, faster than you could claim the words and the will to do the right damned thing. “Please, I– Hmph!”
His lips claimed yours, the softness of them insistent, desperate, and you moaned into his mouth from the rush of adrenaline. “Yes,” you breathed against his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck, forgoing your hold on his clothes.
The sweetness of Bucky’s lips made you chase them when he tried to pull back; you were starved for more, and he obliged your hunger by pushing you harder into the wall, his hands moving down your shoulders, your sides, to settle on your hips with a bruising grip.
Bucky’s tongue brushed along your bottom lip, and you moaned again, letting your tongue dance with his; the relief of finally allowing yourself to give into the urge you’d been constraining against was liberating in every manner, even if it were risky, you were determined to make the best of it.
It was only when he pulled back for breath did you realise he had been pawing at your hip and ass, the fabric bunched in his fists while he panted for air. “Fuck,” he murmured, and he started to laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest through the gasps for air. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, that,” you agreed breathlessly. “Fuck.”
The two of you stood in silence, catching your breaths, and you waited for the fall out of it all; the implosion that lurked around the corner.
“Fawn,” Bucky said quietly, and his index finger brushed along the underside of your chin; grey, inky eyes met yours with such intensity you almost collapsed under the heat of them. “I want you, baby—I wouldn’t have gambled my chances if I didn’t even have a hunch of what was going on in that pretty head of yours.”
“How did–”
“Never you mind, sweetheart. I’ve had my fair few rodeos with this; I can read you like a book.” The soft press of his lips against your forehead made your heart flutter. “Why don’t you get some sleep, hmm? We can talk in the morning—bright eyed and bushy tailed.” His quiet chuckle made your lips quirk up in a smile. “There’s my girl.”
You were unable to form the words to express the inner turmoil that brewed — that had been the best kiss of your life, Bucky liked you back, you hadn’t lost your job as you thought you would, and you were standing in Bucky’s home with an assortment of his clothes to wear while you slept.
“Fawn, baby,” Bucky teased, and he pulled you away from the wall. His hands rubbed down your arms before he knelt and picked up his discarded clothes, handing them to you with a smile. “Go to bed—you look like you’ve seen a ghost and been given the best news all at once. Get some sleep.”
The bedroom he guided you towards was spacious and just as luxurious as what you had seen of the rest of his home. Light colours filled the room; pastels and darker pops of paint made it contrast in a tasteful way, while the linen and pillows looked divine. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest and a smile on his swollen lips. “If you need anything, sweetheart, I’m just down there,” he said, pointing down the hall, back towards the room with the larger door. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”
You looked at him, blinked, then smiled. “Yeah– Yeah, goodnight, Bucky.”
Relief, elation, fear all flooded you at once as you sidled up the mattress and under the covers. They drowned you beneath the waves of overwhelming thoughts of what would happen now; fear for what your future held.
Would it include Bucky? What would Starlet think?
It all amounted to the sheer relief that while you hadn’t initiated the risk, it happened, and your courage bound and leaped with joy for it.
And if you did a little squeal of joy and grinned wide enough to make your cheeks hurt as you tucked yourself into the plush blankets to sleep, it was nobody's business but your own.
Picturing Bunica + Tataie scolding Bucky + Malyshka whenever they see Bee doesn’t have mittens or socks
Even a mafia boss has to answer to his grandparents.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee
A/N: Part of the Bumblebee Series.
Bucky is a six foot five Pakhan, he towers over nearly everyone. A natural fighter and an expert marksman. He runs his empire with an iron fist. He can't remember the last time his knuckles weren't bruised. People fear him. Respect him. He only repeats himself once.
Not many things in this world scare him.
Even fewer people intimidate him.
In fact, he can't think of anyone who makes him think twice about anything.
Except Bunica. The diminutive matriarch is the exception. Everyone knows not to cross her.
Or to do anything that put her little great-granddaughter's well-being or comfort at risk.
And she's currently strolling down her front steps to greet Bumblebee. The same Bumblebee who tore off her socks somewhere between the airport and the drive to her house.
"Shit. Where did they go?" Bucky grouses, sweeping his hand under her car seat.
"I should have an extra pair in here," you mutter distractedly, rummaging through the diaper bag. "Where are they? I know I put—," you drop the teething ring and groan.
Bucky peers out the tinted window, Bunica is standing on the last step, hands on her hips, her flour-dusted apron fluttering around her. Undoubtedly wondering why no one's coming out of the car. "You find them?"
"Bucky." The plaintive tilt to your voice snags his attention. His blue eyes meets yours, his smile slowly falters. "I used the back up pair yesterday."
She waited until you were crossing the street to rip them off and set them free on Fifth Avenue.
You both glance over to see Bee smiling, her bare foot in her hand. Her teddy bear jumper and light pink sweater is one of her cutest outfits and it would be even cuter if she still had the matching socks on.
It's not going to matter to Bunica that your feisty, stubborn baby refuses to leave them on. Or that you've gone through an entire stash in less than a month trying to keep her covered and warm.
That's the moment you decide to buy the now infamous bear one-piece outfits.
The interior of the Maserati fills with a heavy silence. He drops his head, blowing a harsh breath through his lips. "She's going to kill us."
"Yep."
"Maybe we could—"
"She's not going let us leave with Bee."
"Okay. Let's—"
"The luggage is already inside."
"What if we—"
"You really think you can stop her?"
Bucky slumps in the seat next to Bumblebee and takes her chubby leg out of her grasp, shaking it gently in the air. "Why would you do this to us? We talked about this."
His stern glare melts away when she babbles, patting his hand.
A sharp knock rattles the window. Without a word, Bucky unbuckles her car seat while you reach over and hit the unlock button. You slide over the warm leather seat and, without an ounce of shame, hide behind Bucky.
The door swings open and a rush of cool air followed by the smell of sweet cinnamon and apple wafts in.
"Where is my little Bumblebee?" Bunica bends down, her soft hazel eyes coast over you, stopping on Bee's bare feet. Her gaze narrows, sharpening the longer she stares. Bucky tries to speak but she halts his explanation with a raised finger. "I will deal with you two later."
Bucky sighs, already envisioning the lecture he's about to endure.
"Oh my poor baby. Look at you. Do they want you to catch cold hmm?" Bee is out her seat and bundled up in her arms. Bunica shuts the door with her hip and marches back to the house. "They want you to freeze? Did they even feed you?"
The adorable traitor grins, responding with a string of nonsensical chatter. You and Bucky get out of the car, his tattooed fingers intertwined with yours as you follow her up the stairs. "She's going to lock us out isn't she?"
"Most likely. Don't worry, I have a spare key." He can also break in if he wanted but he keeps that tidbit to himself.
Bunica abruptly stops, one foot over the threshold. More of that decadent cinnamon scent drifts out the front doorway, you can hear faint music from the kitchen.
She's been preparing for your arrival all week. You have no idea how happy she is to have the three of you back in her home.
That doesn't mean she'll let you get away with letting her poor Bumblebee freeze.
Her brow arches and she lifts her chin, looking down at her beloved grandson. Her stance is reminiscent of her earlier days when she helped her husband run the bravta. "I'm not going to do that James. I am going to inform Tataie about this incident."
The former pakhan is worse than she is when it comes to the baby. This is not good.
"Maybe we could—"
Bucky presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "We'd never make it past the gate."
I saw an Instagram reel - https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2H-mV3y2ng/?igsh=dHNlYWl2N3RpbWdz - that immediately made me think of Stud and Smartie! They’re one of my favorite pairings that you write about and I can never get enough of their story, they are perfect for each other! 🥰❤️
I hope you have a good weekend, Navy 🥰
I love this, nonnie, and it's very Stud and Smartie coded!
Just Because
Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky gets you a card just because.
Word Count: Over 1k
Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Lovelies, your girl is worn out, but I hope you enjoy this Stud and Smartie ficlet. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You yawned as you let yourself into the apartment, but quickly smiled when Alpine and Soot rushed to see you at the door. They brushed against both of your legs once you got your shoes off and set your keys down, your smile widening when they purred. You half expected Bucky to call out to you or make a joke that the cats were crowding his girl, but all that greeted you was silence.
No music, no television, nothing.
“Honey, I’m home!” You called out, frowning when Bucky didn't answer. “Where is he, huh? Is he taking a nap?” You asked, crouching down so Alpine could rub her head against your hand. Soot patiently waited until she was done for his turn. Like Bucky, he was crazy about his other half. You were convinced that was the case.
Okay, but if he’s actually taking a nap, I’m crawling into bed with him because I deserve all the naps and cuddles and orgasms. I mean, it’s not like I did anything extremely worthy of those things today, but adulting is hard, so I actually really do deserve love and warmth and hot sex.
You ceased the ramblings in your head as you headed toward your room to get into something comfortable that you didn't plan to be in for long. You felt your heart jump when you saw an envelope taped to your door, a smile spreading across your face when you recognized Bucky’s handwriting. It had to be something special or important, otherwise it would've been a post-it note.
But what is it?
You lightly bounced on your feet as you carefully took the envelope from the door. Part of you hoped it was not the first clue to a scavenger hunt. Not that you wouldn't enjoy that, but you wanted to set something like that up for him as a birthday surprise. Or a romantic gesture.
He deserves it.
Happiness bloomed inside you when you opened the card. It was reminiscent of the puzzle he had made for you when he revealed his feelings to you, the different pieces creating a heart. There was even a smaller envelope that held the “missing piece” for you to finish it.
YOU COMPLETE ME.
You thought your heart would burst from how full it was.
Gasping when you felt a warm, familiar chest against your back, you smiled as Bucky pulled you back against him by the hip. “This is beautiful. What’s the occasion?”
It isn't our anniversary. Not my birthday. Already engaged. Wait, was it the first time we made a pizza together? Is it the anniversary from the first time I blew him?
Bucky chuckled as if he read your mind. “I’m glad you like it. And there’s no occasion for it.”
“Okay then,” you said, whining when he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “So, why get me such a nice card then?”
It was a sweet gesture. One he clearly put some thought into since the card looked homemade. You'd have to get it framed.
“I got it for you just because I was thinking of you. I got it just because,” he said against your ear, making you shiver. “Because I love you, Smartie.”
He is the most romantic, perfect man and I will not burst into tears. I won't.
You turned in Bucky’s arms so you could face him, taking care not to drop the card as you put your hands around his neck. Tears sprang to your eyes anyway when he smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours. Love was in the small things and he reminded you of that every day.
“I love you, too, Stud,” you whispered, watching his blue eyes soften at your words. “Thank you.”
He leaned in for a kiss, your heart aching from how tender it was. “I’m glad you liked it. Otherwise, I would've had to make you fall in love with me all over again.”
You giggled as he kissed the tip of your nose. “Bucky, we’re engaged. I’m very much in love with you,” you reminded him.
Always will be.
“Yeah, my ploy worked,” he smirked at you. “I got you to move in with me.”
“You had a cheap room and a nice cat,” you deadpanned. Both things were true, but they were bonuses compared to the amazing package of a man holding you.
“And I made you fall in love with me.”
Cocky, but true.
“It’s because you're adorable,” you said with a tilt of your head.
Yes, my beefy fiance is adorable and easy to love.
“I try to be,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Don't want some book boyfriend taking my place.”
“A book boyfriend wouldn't get me the best puzzle or cards,” you said, though you did enjoy how he acted the last time he got jealous of you reading a romance novel. “Or take a nap and cuddle with me.”
He trailed kisses over to your ear. “Or give you orgasms.”
How did he know I was thinking that?
“You are welcome to take me to bed then,” you said, still a bit surprised at yourself for not jumping on him over the sweet card. But you stopped him when he reached past you to open your door. “Bucky?”
“Yeah?”
“These ‘just because’ gestures? And every gift you’ve given me? They really mean so much to me,” you said, hoping he understood how much you appreciated them and him.
You still couldn't believe some days that he was real and in love with you.
He swallowed before he spoke in a quiet tone. “You deserve the entire world and I just wish I could give it to you.”
“You already have,” you promised, pulling him against you this time so you could kiss him.
Bucky had given you everything you could ever dream of by loving and believing in you. And you would get him the perfect gift as soon as you could. Something that said you were thinking of him. Something just because.
Because you loved him.
They bring me such comfort. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
janainaart
yousharknotpass
dededos
blakekathryn
vaporwave
romaincrisis
2087
