Winter's Girl

21+/She/I'm just here to get lost.

[writer-in-a-cryofreeze]

Round 9 Story & Vote Post -- I'm Feeling Lucky!

Welcome to the FINAL ROUND of Writer in a Cryofreeze's Drabble Event! Friends, we are so excited to present today's prompt to you--one which to our immense glee, both confounded and inspired our remaining two anonymous authors:

I'm Feeling Lucky

No, not that Lucky! (Sorry, boy, you're still A Very Good Dog.) For this final challenge, we asked our authors to click Google's I'm Feeling Lucky button--whatever result they got, that was their prompt!

You'll find two 100-word drabbles under the cut, both written to an individual prompt. Your challenge? Figuring out which one you like best! On Friday, both authors will be revealed--the author of the drabble with the fewest votes will receive their very own Cryofreeze for safekeeping until the next event. The author with the most votes will receive the one-of-a-kind DRABBLE BADGE, for display in all the places they deem worthy!

We've included the prompts with the drabble. So get ready... get set... READ!

Drabble #1 - Blazing Prompt: Solar Eclipse Rating: General Audiences

He'd read the pamphlet. Never look directly. Everyone around him wore the cardboard glasses, faces tilted up like children.

Bucky didn't need them. He'd stared at worse.

The moon crossed the sun. The crowd went quiet. Then the world went dark.

There it was— the corona. The ring you could never see while the sun still burned. Too bright, that sun. It drowned out everything at its edges.

He'd known someone like that. Blazing. You didn't see the shape of what you'd lose until it was gone.

Two minutes. Then the light came back and took it all again.

Steve.

*

Drabble #2 - Written Between Hearts Prompt - Doodles Rating: General Audiences

“Mrs Barnes?” Bucky read aloud.

You looked down at the notebook in your lap and found the words scribbled between little hearts and half-finished flowers. Heat crept into your face, but you only shrugged, hiding a smile.

“What? My hand wandered.”

“Apparently.” His own smile came slow, far too pleased with himself. You reached to turn the page, but Bucky caught your hand first.

“Leave it,” he insisted.

“Why?”

He glanced at the page again, thumb brushing along your fingers.

“Looks good in your handwriting.”

Your heart stumbled. “Does it now?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “Think it does.”

*

AND THAT'S IT. The last two drabbles of what was, we hope, as fun an event for you as it was for us. Readers, we have enjoyed supplies you with quick reads the last two months, and we hope you've loved reading them--and maybe found some new authors to love along the way.

Now we ask one (okay, two) last thing of you:

Which drabble is your favorite?

1 - Blazing - Bucky doesn't see the shape of a thing until it's gone.

2 - Written Between Hearts - Your doodles show a little too much of your dreams.

Remaining time: 15 hours 2 minutes

One last favor: if you enjoyed either of these drabbles, please take a moment to reblog so others can enjoy them too!

Check back Friday afternoon/evening for our author reveal! Thanks for reading!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Melt Away 6

Warning: possible adultery, neglect, angry men, dark elements….

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: August Walker, side of Andrew Barber

Summary: You find a cold reception at your new job, but it’s not much better than your home life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stand at the fridge and stare at the two containers. One for today and one for tomorrow. Or maybe, take it home for dinner. You haven’t really been eating. You’re always alone at night; it’s hard to find an appetite or any motivation.

Footsteps approach and you stiffen. You’ve run into a few agents here or there. They don’t really acknowledge you. Although a security guard asked to verify your badge.

The button on the microwave depresses and the door pops open. The growl in return assures you of the shadow in your peripheral’s identity. You glance over as Agent Walker examines the stuffed oxen.

“Hm.” He huffs and flips it over. “How long does this go for?”

“Oh, uh… ninety seconds. You can add thirty if it doesn’t warm enough.” You guide him, not thinking as you cross and punch in the numbers yourself.

“Great.” He puts the ox on the glass plate and shuts the door. You back up as he taps start. “Thanks.”

“Meeting went okay?” You ask.

His brow arches. He tilts his head and looks at you from the edge of his eye. “You’re on lunch.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” You back up. “Speaking of… I had a bit too much so if you’re hungry…” you open the fridge and take out a container. “I made some quinoa and salmon. You don’t even need to warm it up.”

He stares at the tupperware. You feel ready to melt. You’re doing too much. You set it on the counter.

“If you don’t, just… put it back in the fridge.” You shrug and grab the other from the middle shelf of the fridge.

He exhales but doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best response you can hope for. You leave him and opt to find somewhere to eat outside. You stare at all the luxury electric cars and their handleless doors as you eat without tasting.

Walker, Andy. You feel like you’re hanging by a string with both. Each sliver of progress is met immediately with backslide. You stir the last few bites and scoop them up from the tilted container. You put the lid back on and delay your return with a stroll around the grounds.

“That’s prohibited.” A holler startles you. You stop and spin to face the man jabbing his finger at you. “What are you doing here? How’d a civilian get in here?” He snarls.

“No, I’m not– I work here. I was only going for a walk,” you fumble for your badge as you keep the container under your arm. “See.”

You approach the man as he sneers down his nose. He squints at your photo. “You don’t have the clearance level, ma’am.”

“Redfield,” A timbre rumbles from behind the large man. “Leave her be. She’s with me.”

The man, Redfield, juts out his chin and clucks. He turns slowly. “Walker.”

“Sunny as rainstorm.” Walker retorts as he approaches. “I told her to take her break. This place ever think of working on amenities?”

“Can’t remember the last time I saw you outside your office.” Redfield snorts.

“I’ve been cleared for field work so… we shouldn’t see much of each other. Thankfully.” August gestures you past the other man. “Don’t talk to my PA like that again.”

“Don’t let her wander where she doesn’t belong.”

“And what are you doing? Got nothing better to do than lurk?” Walker scoffs. “Come on, sweetheart.”

He beckons to you again. You obey. You try not to notice that word he used. Not ma’am, not lady, sweetheart? Hell, when’s the last time Andy used that word with you? Well, it’s probably not a good thing. If anything it’s condescending, demeaning. This is a workplace after all.

He turns and walks beside you. The other man grumbles. You chafe and grip the container between your hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to–”

“Don’t worry about it. Chris always finds a reason.” He assures.

“Okay, um… yeah but I don’t wanna break the rules.”

“You didn’t. Worry about my rules.” He insists.

“Uh huh…” you hum uncertainly. Silence festers around you. “Your shoulder feel better?”

“Sure. It doesn’t feel like a nails lodge behind it. Was tryna stretch…” he trails off. “Not your worry.”

“Well… it kinda is. I’m your PA.”

“My shoulder isn’t CIA business.”

“Fair,” you accept.

He’s quiet again. You approach the doors and he swipes his badge first. He opens the door for you. He waits and follows you in. You cross the lobby to the elevators. He taps his badge again.

You step onto the elevator and stand beside him. He seems bigger in here. You teeter on your heels.

“Can you do me another favour?” He asks.

“Sure. That’s my job.” You chime.

“Cancel that meeting with Fowler. I don’t got the energy.”

💔

“Sending a girl to tell me to fuck myself, huh?” Fowler slaps the screen of the coffee machine. “Does he really think I want to deal with him either?”

“Maybe tomorrow–”

“Fuck it. I’ll send an email. He can read, right?” He chuckles.

“Sir.”

“Jesus. I feel bad for you. Guy’s a prick. Specially since that thing in Vienna.” He hits start on the machine.

You look at his hand and something else catches your attention. The container you offered Walker is empty, washed out, and set neatly against the wall, labelled with your name on a post-it. Well, at least someone enjoyed lunch.

“Right. I’ll have him check his mailbox.”

“Sure, honey. I know he’ll get right on it.” He pushes his jacket back as he grips his hips. He glances over at you. “Didn’t peg you as his type.”

You frown. “The director hired me–”

He laughs again. “Go. I don’t like my coffee with stress.”

You do just that. Most of the agents have that bluntness. That lack of patience. If it’s not urgent, it doesn’t matter.

You knock before you enter Walker’s office. He sits back sharply from holding his forehead. You don’t acknowledge it.

“Done. Meeting off.” You confirm as you near your chair and pull out your phone. There it is. An email already. Oh, it’s not from Nick.

You sit and squint at the screen. It’s not easy to read the layout on the small phone.

‘Confidential. Mission Brief.’

You have to put in your employee number just to view it. You review the information, much of it in lingo you don’t really understand. You sit up and find Walker looking at you.

“You’re going to Paris?” You say.

He taps his fingers on his armrest.

“You need a tablet. Or laptop.” He says.

You nod. “Thank you, sir. It would be helpful, but… Paris.”

“I’ll show you how to do the expense report. You can book the travel.” He stands up and checks his watch.

“Uh, okay, yes, sir.”

“Make sure you get two tickets. Business.” He insists as he marches to the door.

“Two?” You wonder as you watch him strut to the door.

“Can’t do much here when I’m there.” He grabs the handle and twists it.

He leaves and you watch the door close behind him. Huh. You wonder what Andy will think of that. Will he care? Or even notice?

[thezombieprostitute]

Oh Auggie, you big softie! Coming to our rescue with Redfield and now taking us to Paris! 🤩

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He's already protecting us and if he can take on Redfield, Andy will be nothing.

[sinner-as-saint]

mastermind

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Ex-bully!Reader AU 

Summary: You were mean to him back in uni, always teasing him and making fun of him. Always chasing away the few friends he had and always ruining the chances he had of making new ones. He could never figure out why he was always the butt of your jokes, why out of all the other people you could unleash your cruelty on, you picked him. But those uni years were long gone. His desire to get back at you however, was not. So now, about a whole decade later, Bucky Barnes is out for revenge. You made his life hell for years after all. But now that he’s older and stronger than he was back then, he deserves to have a little fun with you, doesn’t he? 

Themes: author!reader, ex bully!reader, mentions of bullying in the past, mild angst, smut, stalker!bucky, dark!bucky, degrading kink, fluff

Bucky stepped into the hole in the wall bar with confidence. 

He knew what he was here for. Or rather, who. 

And he spotted you right away. He’d been preparing for this meeting for the last decade, and he had all his ducks in a row now. He grabbed a beer and walked right over to where you were sitting, in a booth by yourself. A half pint of something on the table, with papers scattered everywhere while you were busy noting something down rapidly in a notebook. 

You looked good, he admitted to himself. Dark burgundy dress with a leather jacket, as if you wanted to blend into the dark and moody aesthetic of the bar and disappear. But you were one of those people who just couldn’t exactly blend in and disappear. Even when you didn’t say a word, your presence was rather loud. Sure, you’d been one of the most horrible people he’d come across in uni years ago, but you were charismatic and he couldn’t deny it. 

You had this certain pull to you, attracting everyone and everything towards you. And here he was, gravitating towards you as well. But, he reminded himself, he had a plan this time. 

“Excuse me,” He spoke in his smoothest voice, “Is this seat taken?” 

He watched you intently as you looked up from your notebook and seemed a little surprised as you gave him a slight smile and pointed at the seat across from you. You didn’t recognise him. Of course you wouldn’t, he looked entirely different. 

Bucky was used to it. That surprise on women’s faces. He looked good and he knew it. Tight black t-shirt, purposely two sizes too small just so he could show off the big arms and the back muscles that the people loved. Tattoos all over his arms, and some on his neck. He had them all over his back as well, but it was currently hidden. Small, discrete lip ring on his lower lip. Yeah, he made the ladies go crazy. 

He could tell you were having trouble looking away as well. “Aren’t you too beautiful to be here all by yourself?” He gave you a smirk, one that he knew accentuated his lip ring. He watched your gaze drop down to it quickly before looking back up into his eyes. 

You smiled, then explained. “I don’t know anyone in this city, I’m here temporarily for work. I leave in a couple of days.” 

Bucky listened with fake interest, he knew all these things already. He knew everything about you. “Oh?” He faked curiosity, “What do you do for work?” 

“I’m an author. I’m currently on my book tour.” You answered in a shy voice. 

Weird. You used to be so confident and cocky all the time in uni. This was new. Bucky quickly recovered and said, “Wait, was that you I saw on the poster outside the bookstore down the street? There was quite a crowd there.” 

You nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s me. I have another book signing there tomorrow.” 

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “You must be really good.” 

Again, you gave him that shy shrug that confused him. Since when were you humble, or shy? 

“I’m okay, I guess. People just like to read what I write.” A pause, as you stared into his eyes, then asked, “What do you do in the city? You know, other than flirting with random women.” 

Bucky chuckled, “Oh you’re not random. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met.” He waited to see you squirm in your seat like he knew you would. He watched how you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Then he said, “I own a security company. I created this app that people use whenever they need help. All they have to do is press a button and my guys show up. Anywhere, anytime. Anything from needing medical help to needing help escaping someone, domestic violence, robbers, a hostage situation, harassment, or you know,” He looked right at you as he said, “Bullies.” 

You listened, nodded and said, “That’s noble. What pushed you to make that your life’s mission?” 

Bucky leaned back into his seat. “I know what it’s like to feel defenseless. I never want anyone to feel like that. So if I can at least help some people, it makes me feel better. I guess I became what younger me needed.” 

“Why?” You questioned. “Were you hurt in the past?” 

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “But that was a long time ago.” 

Bucky began talking about something else but then noticed you were watching him a little too intensely. For a brief moment he panicked, wondering if you’d recognised him. But surely not. He didn’t look anything like he did back then. 

So he had to ask, still in the same flirty tone he’d been using the whole time, “What’s that look for?” 

He watched as you blinked a couple times, lowered your face as if shy then shook your head and said, “Nothing. It’s…,” You chuckled, “It’s gonna sound insane but you just… look so much like one of my main characters from my last book.” You then grabbed your phone and clicked a couple times before showing him a fanart. “See? Even the lip ring, and the neck tats.” 

Bucky grabbed your phone, analysing the fanart with interest. “And this guy, you like him? Is he a good guy?” 

You sighed, “He’s complicated. But yes, I love him. He’s one of my favourite characters that I’ve ever written.” A coy smile, then you said, “I just never thought I’d meet someone exactly like him. I mean, it’s like you walked out of my book.” You laughed. 

Bucky laughed too. “Well, maybe I did.” 

“Maybe.” You whispered, still looking up at Bucky dreamily. Giving him that soft look women often gave him before they invited him into their beds. 

Perfect. 

Oh. He had you right where he wanted you. It’s like you walked out of my book. He scoffed internally. For the last few years he’d been studying all your books like they were religious texts and he was a zealous man. Over the years he noticed that all your MMCs had a few features in common – tattoos, muscles, piercings, so he became them. 

Sure, maybe this was him taking it too far. After all, uni ended about a decade ago. Sure, this was petty and maybe even a waste of time. But he needed to do this for the younger him who was always so passive and never in control of the narrative. Being bullied and never having friends or anyone on his side is what made him create his app and company. Sure, this was childish revenge but it was his to take. He didn’t care. 

Besides, the look on your face would be priceless once he reveals who he is. But not yet. He had so much to do before that. So many fantasies to fulfil. So much fun to have before he told you the whole truth. 

“It’s getting late,” You told him as you began gathering your papers and notebook, “I should head back to my hotel. I have that book signing thing rather early. But, um, if you want I could leave you my number and we can meet again tomorrow?” 

Bucky smiled at you, his tongue toying with his lip ring knowing full well it would catch your attention. “Yes, please.” 

He already had your number. Screw your number, he had all your home addresses – both the penthouse, as well as the small beach house that you owned, your email addresses, your passwords, where you liked to eat, where your friends lived, where they worked, what your parents did, where they worked, all of it. He’d been keeping a close eye on you for the past decade, of course he knew everything there was to know about you. 

So he took the number, and walked you out of the bar and promised to meet up with you the next day. 

—

“Have dinner with me,” Bucky said when he saw you the following evening. “I know a cute spot, it’s lowkey and quiet. You’re gonna like it.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, “Alright.” Then you took his elbow and let him take the lead. 

He walked slowly, using the short journey as an excuse to ask you things. General stuff, things people ask on first dates. Where you grew up, what is your family like, etc. But it was hard coming up with questions when he already knew everything. Plus, he had to be careful not to ask specific things, like how did you find Bari, Italy where you vacationed with your family last year? 

Luckily the place where you were headed wasn’t too far. 

“So tell me, what is it like going from city to city and meeting all your fans?” Bucky asked you once the two of you had placed your orders. 

You smiled, as if at a memory, and said, “It’s amazing. I can’t quite put it into words. I mean, I started writing as a way to cope with just, I don’t know, life I guess. And I never thought people would end up reading, let alone even like what I write. And it kinda just happened, and next thing I knew I was receiving messages and emails and letters from all over the world. I guess, you never get tired of someone telling you just how much they like the stories you made up in your head.” You sighed again, happily this time. “It’s cliché, I know, but it’s so pure and genuine. Like these characters don’t exist in real life, I made them up. But people found them interesting enough to read about them, and like them.” You giggled. 

Bucky felt like someone had slapped him the moment he heard that giggle. What the hell was happening to him? Did he, dare he say, find you endearing? What the fuck. 

You continued, unbeknownst to the internal turmoil Bucky was going through. “So yeah, the fans are literally the reason why I do what I do. They give me so much strength and they don’t even know it. Sometimes just reading or re-reading a sweet message someone left me months ago can turn a bad day into a really good one, or make a terrible day slightly more tolerable.” You paused, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. “Writing saved me, but my fans, my readers, they made my life so much more beautiful and worth living.” 

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. At all. He knew you didn’t have ghost writers or anything. He knew you’d been consistent with your book releases. But he never knew you had such… depth. He always only ever saw you as the bitchy girl who bullied him in uni and made his life hell. For the first time in years, Bucky wavered a little bit when it came to you. For the first time in years, he wondered whether this was worth it. 

“I see,” He spoke quietly, “So no downsides to being a well-loved author?” 

You chuckled, “Some. Like most things. I mean, this doesn’t happen a lot but a couple of times I’ve had people show up to my hotel room or my house even, demanding to know what happens in the next book. It’s scary, but, I mean I’ve dealt with it and I hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

Perfect. Bucky smiled, then said, “You know, you should hire security. At least when you’re touring. I can arrange it, I’ll send you some of my best guys. They’ll be discrete, and you won’t have to worry about anything.” 

He was pleased with how easily you agreed. Now he could have eyes on you all the time without all the secrecy. 

And the rest of the dinner went by smoothly. 

He thought he’d have to put in a lot more work. But when he dropped you off at your hotel lobby, and you asked him if he wanted to come up for a drink, he was pleasantly surprised. But of course he agreed and followed you to your room. 

You offered him a glass of red wine, he accepted. 

You made small talk, your eyes never leaving his. Bucky put on a show. Touching your hands, your face, but just enough to leave you wanting more. He watched how you lowered your head each time he gave you a compliment. But none of the compliments were lies, even despite all the hatred he felt towards you he had to admit, you were very beautiful. 

He also noted the way you kept scooting closer and closer to him on the couch. Out of nowhere, Bucky said, “You know, I googled you last night. And I came across some rather… naughty stuff that you’ve written.” 

You laughed and said, “In my world, we call those spicy scenes.” 

Bucky nodded, “I see. And are any of those based on real life?” 

There was that shy look on your face again. “Some are.” 

There was this unexplainable wave of discontent that washed over him upon hearing that. He didn’t know why but the thought of you having sex with someone else and it being good enough for you to write about it almost made him want to get up and leave. He hated it. 

“So if I fuck you, will you write about it?” He asked, so serious all of a sudden. 

You didn’t look away from his eyes as you replied, “Only if you’re memorable enough.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He shook his head and reached for you, “Come here then,” He guided you over his lap so you could straddle him. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll show you memorable enough.” 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles underneath his thin t-shirt while his hands slid up and down your sides as his lips kissed all over your neck. He hummed and breathed and chuckled right into your ear as he explored your body. Then, getting impatient he asked, “Can I please take your dress off?” 

Within the next few seconds, you were completely bare in his lap. 

“So beautiful,” He murmured, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes that he knew could make people melt so easily. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispered along your collar bones, kissing and licking your skin. You inched closer to him, rubbing your crotch against his clothed but erected cock, making the both of you gasp and moan. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” He teased, tightening his grip on your waist just a little and pulling you closer to him, nuzzling your neck again. 

You slid your fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear, “Yes, please.” 

He hid the fact that your voice made him shiver. He shook it off as quickly as he could. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. 

Bucky recovered, and smirked against your skin the moment he heard you gasping and whining under his touch. “What do you want, huh?” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, grounding you on his clothed cock in the process, “My fingers?” He reached up to grab the back of your neck, tilting your head back so he could kiss and whisper against your skin, “My mouth? Or my cock?” 

You whined, then said, “Your cock, please.” You begged him. And fuck, it was satisfying to hear. Just what he wanted. 

He chuckled, letting his hand rest at your butt, bringing your body closer to his. How long had he waited to have you at his mercy like this? He was gonna have all the fun he’d dreamt of having. “Well then you have to work for it.” He said, teasing you. “Now come on, take it out and slide it in you.” 

Bucky leaned back and watched each one of your moves. The desperation in your eyes as you stared up at him, how your eager hands rapidly undid his pants to free his throbbing cock. How you handled him like he was nothing but just a hot fling. 

Oh baby, Bucky scoffed mentally, you have no idea who I am, do you? 

He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, like the rest of him, his cock was nice and thick too. 

He watched as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking his veiny cock, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “I said put it inside you, baby.” He bit his lower lip to keep from moaning too much. 

Bucky watched you as you lifted your body off of his lap and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole and then slowly, slowly sank down on him. You both moaned, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 

“Fuck…” You moaned, looking at him with that damned innocent look in your eyes. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Come here,” He growled once he was nice and deep inside your warm, wet hole. Grabbing you by the throat, Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you hungrily. Growling into your mouth about how good it felt to be inside you, “You did such a good job. Look how pretty you look, filled with my cock, huh? Do you realise how pretty you look, baby?” 

You whined against his mouth, begging, immediately grinding your hips against his, desperate for some friction. For any kind of movement. Just needy. 

“Please…” 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He whispered against your mouth, your warm breaths mingling. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it feel good, okay?” His hands grabbed you by the hips as he carefully helped you lift your lower body up and then slowly, lowering you down his cock again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded, looking down to see where your bodies connected and the sight of it, of his cock stretching you out was just sinful. 

“You feel perfect, you know that?” Bucky grabbed and held your hips in place, gently thrusting his hips up, making you moan as he filled you up, “Just a perfect girl for me, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought, huh?” 

It was a good thing you were too lust-drunk to fully process his ramblings. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth again, moving your body gently, rocking you back and forth on his cock to get you to get used to the girth of him. His cock throbbed against your walls, causing the tiniest bit of friction which drove you insane and turned you into a teary, mumbling mess. “Aww baby, what is it? Is it too much? Hmm?” He teased, placing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it slowly while still moving your hips back and forth. “Is that too much?” 

You looked into his eyes with your teary ones and said, “You… feel so good.” You whined. 

Bucky smirked. Right where he wanted you. He let go of your hips, no longer helping you to move. “Go on then, take what you want. And make it good for me.” 

Sheepishly, you lifted your lower body slightly, before sliding back down on his cock. Now that he wasn’t helping you, it was way harder than earlier. You struggled to make him fit for a moment. But only for a moment. 

You whimpered and he groaned once he fit snug inside of you again. The tip of his cock reaching sensitive places you never knew existed. 

“That’s good, baby.” Bucky murmured, caressing your thigh. “But open your eyes. I want you to look at me while you take my cock so perfectly like my good girl. You hear me?” 

You looked right at him, nodding as you began riding his cock as best as you could before you finally found the right pace and rhythm. You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time, whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. 

“That’s it. Take it, take all of me in that tight, perfect little cunt…” He leaned in to kiss you, biting down and tugging at your bottom lip while you sped up, his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up.

His hand circled around your waist, his muscular arms caging you in and he pulled your warm body closer to his. You were nothing but a moaning mess at this point. 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out. Bucky now held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock, throwing his head back and growling in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He tried to contain his grunts, “Oh fuck, you’ll get me addicted to this cunt, huh? And I’ll want it every day now. But you’ll give it to me, won’t you? You’ll let me fuck it, or taste it, or both, won’t you, angel?” 

“Yes,” You whined, nodding helplessly. “Whatever you want.” 

He chuckled, kissing down your neck and whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him. He panted against your skin, kissing you all over, “This cunt is mine now, you hear me? All fucking mine. All of it.” 

“Yes…”

You didn’t slow down when you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Bucky kept thrusting his hips up into you even as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone, all that pressure exploding in a satisfying way. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to his. 

— 

“I wish I could stay in the city a little longer.” You mumbled against his chest. 

Bucky smirked, his fingers mindlessly tracing random shapes on your skin. “Where are you going after this?” 

You told him which city you were off to the next day for more book signings and readings. And Bucky pretended to be surprised, as if he didn’t know already, “I’m headed there too. One of our offices there needs me for something.” Lies. “I’ll leave in a day or two.” 

You sat up at the sound of that, looking down at Bucky with a mischievous look in your eyes. Bucky smirked because he could already see your thought process. 

“Could we, um, see each other again?” You asked, still a little shy. 

Bucky reached out to touch your face, playing the part of the enamoured stranger too well. “Of course we can, angel. I’ll come find you, don’t you worry.” 

— 

It was almost too easy to find you again. His guards who were watching over you let him know of all your moves, where you were, which hotel you stayed at, where your event was held, what time, etc. 

So finding you at your book signing event, and surprising you by sneaking around and pulling you into a nearby utility closet was not a problem at all. 

You gasped, in surprise, then let out a chuckle once you realized it was just him. “Bucky!” 

Bucky pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you, angel.” 

You relaxed in his arms, “But I saw you just two nights ago.” 

“I know,” He leaned in to kiss your neck. “Still missed you,” He whispered. 

You let out a soft moan when he licked and bit your skin. “Bucky…” You groaned, then giggled when his rough stubble tickled your neck. And that cold metal of his lip ring making you shiver.  “I have to be out and take pictures in a while.” 

He pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I thought–,” 

“No,” You cut him off, again with that shy but mischievous look in your eyes. Then you leaned in and whispered against his mouth, “I didn’t say we had to stop.” You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, right on his lip ring. 

Then you kissed his neck, then slowly got down on your knees. Your hands trailing down his body until you reached his belt buckle. 

Okay. This was not in the plan. Bucky thought in his head. 

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at him with those eyes of yours. 

Fuck. Fuck! How long had he waited for this? Years. Even in uni, even when he hated you, he was just a young man and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees for him. Fuck. Focus, Bucky, focus! 

“Go ahead, baby.” He whispered. “It’s all yours to play with.” 

Those words made you hurry. You rapidly undid his belt, unzipped his pants and freed his hard cock. The mere sight of it had you whimpering with need. You wrapped your hands around him and placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you slowly took more of him, as much as you could fit, into your mouth. 

You looked up and found him looking down at you intensely, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with lust, and breathing heavily. Fuck, he was a sight, you thought. The lip ring on that swollen, soft, pink lower lip. Those tattoos peeking from under the collar of his shirt, the tattoos along his muscular forearms… 

You kept your eyes on his gorgeous face as you sucked on his cock. He had the kind of manly beauty that made you want to worship him with your mouth. Usually, you’d never get down on your knees this quickly for any man. But Bucky… he was special, wasn’t he? 

Bucky closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. “Fuck…” he moaned and you only quickened your pace. He moved his hips forward, gently fucking your mouth. He looked back down and smirked, you looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

“Is this what you’ve been dreaming of doing for the past two days, huh?” He teased. “While you’re out there innocently reading your books, and signing autographs for your fans, and smiling for pictures, is this what was in the back of your mind, angel?” 

You nodded, your mouth still full of him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, not so innocent, are you?” He carefully quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, eager to chase his orgasm. “You’re lucky you have to go back out there and look presentable, otherwise I’d make a mess all over your face, baby.” He said, then hissed when you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. “Oh, you little tease.” He smirked. “No more teasing, baby, come on. Put it back in your mouth.” He ordered. 

And you listened. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue. Bucky came with a loud sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and zipped his pants back up and did his belt again before standing up to face him again. 

He smiled at you. “I’m gonna return the favour later, okay?” 

You nodded while he wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumbs, and fixed your hair as best as he could. Bucky loved the dreamy look in your eyes. 

You slid him your hotel room key and said, “See you later, Bucky.” Then you left the closet with a wink. 

Bucky stayed there for a minute. Alone and thinking. This was easier than he thought. He kinda hoped you’d play hard to get a little more, but this was great too. 

—

Bucky did show up to your hotel room that night. He had a favour to return after all. But then, after that night, things went a little off his initial plan. 

Bucky ended up following you around the world for the next month or so, going from city to city. Fucking in hotel rooms, or anywhere he could get you alone. He ended up infiltrating each one of your events, sometimes he’d show up just so he could then take you out for dinner after a long day, then he’d end up sleeping in your bed each night. 

He knew he was deviating from his plan. But what could he do? He was having fun, and so were you. Neither one of you was putting a label on this thing anyway. Plus, he had waited for this for so long. So he let it happen for some more weeks, shamelessly enjoying anytime he got to have you under him, or be under you, or touching you, or kissing you. All for the sake of younger him, of course. 

Bucky let it go like this until you were nearing the last leg of your tour. And you had about a week off before the last few remaining events. 

It was time, he realised. To mess with you a little more. 

So he made you an offer he knew you wouldn’t refuse. 

The two of you were in your penthouse, back in your city. And Bucky had travelled with you. The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other. So here you were now, early morning, cuddling in bed. 

“How would you like a weekend getaway, baby? At a nice cabin, small town, endless woods,” He proposed, pulling you closer under the covers since you were both refusing to get out of bed that morning. “Just you, and me, and a hot tub.” He whispered, kissing your face while you writhed in his arms, giggling and trying to get away because you were really ticklish. “And lots of sex.” 

You laughed, finally out of his embrace, and got up to straddle him, pinning his arms in place as you looked down at him. Both of you completely naked, but who cared? “I wake up sore everyday because of you.” 

Bucky smirked, freeing his hands from your grip easily. “Weird, ‘cause you never complain when we’re doing it.” He spoke, his hands mindlessly caressing your bare thighs. “In fact, you always ask for more.” 

“Right.” You smacked his chest playfully. “And now you want to lock me inside a cabin with you? We won’t ever leave the bed. I still have work to do, you know? I should’ve started working on my next book weeks ago.” You said, “But a certain tattooed, blue-eyed hottie is ruining my plans.” 

He laughed at the irony of what you said. “Oh come on, angel,” He pleaded. “I just want one weekend alone with you. Just one. Where we don’t have to meet or interact with other people. It’ll be just us.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Fine. I should start packing.” 

— 

The cabin was everything. Much larger than you expected. Bucky told you that this was one of his favourite properties that he owned, at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by dense, foggy woods, the rich veridian pine trees, the dark mountains, and rain clouds. 

It was the perfect setting to get some writing done as well, you thought. 

“Oh! This is perfect, Buck!” You said the moment you stepped inside the log home. The setting sun really added to the charm of the place. You spun in slow circles, taking it all in. The high ceiling, the grand staircase, the nice kitchen, the neat living area with the comfiest chairs by the large windows, and the giant fireplace. 

You immediately walked over to the biggest chair with the softest cushions and plopped down on it with a happy sigh. “I never wanna leave.” You squealed, giggling as you squirmed and buried deeper into the cushions. “Can I just stay here forever? Look at this place, Buck!” 

Bucky was frozen in place. Watching you. Unable to take his eyes off you. The happy smiles, the way you made sure to point out all the things you liked and compliment them. The way you immediately made yourself at home. The way you chose the most comfortable spot and decided that was your spot, like a house cat by a sunny window. 

What the hell was he feeling?! And why did he feel kinda bad for having led you on this whole time? Was he doing the wrong thing? Messing with you was the plan, but then what? What after that? Was he being ridiculous? Did he just waste years of his life planning and plotting when he could’ve just let it all go and move on? Uni was years ago. Was this all a childish utter waste of time and energy? 

Fuck. He cursed himself. What was he doing? It was obvious that you weren’t the same person you were back then. People had the right to change and they did all the time. 

“Bucky?” Your voice dragged him back to reality. “Are you okay?” You got up from your chair and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him as you said, “Thank you for bringing me here, I love it.” You buried your face into his chest and sighed, “You seem tired. Can we get into the hot tub now? I think we both need to relax for a minute.” 

He looked down at you and nodded, smiling as he touched your face gently. “Of course, angel.” 

— 

Bucky knew he seemed distant while he was in the hot tub with you, not even the breathtaking view of the woods and the lights from the small town could cheer him up. His mind was far away, even while you were in his lap. 

“Hey,” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his rough cheek. “What’s going on with you?” You asked quietly. 

“Nothing.” He forced a soft smile and said, “Just work stuff.” 

You looked a little disappointed. “I thought you wanted this time away from everyone.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, your bare chest pressing against his. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll stop worrying about the rest of the world.” He nuzzled your neck and kissed you until you giggled, until that disappointed look on your face disappeared. “It’s just you and me.” 

Then what started out as innocent kisses, turned into steamy making out, then turned into the two of you fucking until you were completely spent. 

— 

The next two days went by quickly. Bucky lost track of time since he was so lost in you. It was so easy to pretend. To pretend that this was real and that he wasn’t just here with you because of some grunge he’d been nurturing since he was in his early twenties. 

But then came your last night here at his log home. And Bucky could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning, while you were sleeping soundly next to him. He was feeling a lot. Anger, regret, guilt. 

He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. So he got up and walked downstairs, straight to that secret door behind which was his ‘study room’. This room contained everything he knew and had gathered about you since his uni days. Photographs, addresses, phone numbers, everything. And there, occupying the entirety of one of the walls was the bulletin board he used to keep track of everything. Where you went, who you met, details about people from your inner circle, literally everything. 

Bucky stood in front of the giant bulletin board that had a picture of you right in the middle, surrounded by pictures of you no one else had, pictures you didn’t even know were taken of you. In hotel lobbies, at airports, inside your homes, and more. Bucky’s eyes followed that red thread he used to mark each step of his ‘plan’, and the rope ended here – at the log house. The was plan was simple, all he had to do was– 

“What the hell is this?” A shaky voice asked from behind him. 

Bucky froze for a second, then kept his calm. Fuck it. He wasn’t gonna be able to pretend for much longer anyway. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

He turned around and faced you. You stood at the door which he carelessly forgot to lock behind him. There, in your pink PJs, looking at him with accusation and fear in your eyes. He hated that look. Suddenly Bucky was even angrier, at himself, at the situation he thought he had under control, at everything. 

He knew how this looked. He was standing a few feet away from you with a poker face, and that damn wall behind him was like a silent but deadly monster ready to pounce. He noticed the way you were shaking already. 

“Who are you?” You asked him, hands trembling even as you tried to keep your calm. Acting rash wouldn’t help you. 

So smart. So brave. 

“Forgot me so soon, angel?” Bucky scoffed, “You don’t remember me? It’s only been, what, like ten years since uni? James? The kid with glasses you liked to bully? You’d slash my tires for fun,” He began listing, “You’d make up rumours about me, you’d chased away all the friends I made, you’d cast me out and make sure I was alone all the time, you really did act like it was your world and we were all just living in it back then, remember? You and your minions?” Bucky shook his head, “I know you remember.” 

A shaky exhale, then you whispered under your breath, as if to yourself, starting to back away as the realisation set in. “No… why would you–,” 

Bucky reached for and grabbed your wrist before you could get away from him. He slammed the door shut behind you and pushed you against it. Once locked, the door only opened with the code was entered. And you didn’t know the code, so you were well trapped with him in this room. 

“Why would I?” He asked, dramatically. Placing his hands on the door behind you, trapping you between the hard, cold wood and his body, his tattooed, bare chest pressing against you. Bucky said, “Because you made my life hell that’s why. I’m not that kid anymore.” He whispered, his tone icy and mean. “I’m all grown up now, and I deserve to have some fun, don’t I?” He watched as tears fell down your face. “Aww, are you crying, baby? Hmm?” He leaned closer to you and whispered against the side of your trembling mouth, knowing his beard felt rough against your skin, “You ruined my plans with your pretty face, with that sweet look in your eyes, and your addicting fucking pussy, and now you’re crying?” He taunted, enjoying the way you gasped in surprise at his crude words. 

He also noted how you didn’t even try to push him away. It’s like you rolled over and admitted defeat. You weren’t even trying to fight back. But you did look terrified. 

Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “I intended to mess with you for a little bit, and make you pay for how you treated me all those years ago.” He explained. “But having you mess with my head in return wasn’t in the plans, you know?” 

“Please,” You whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me go. I’ll do anything, Bucky. I’m sorry.” More tears rolled down your cheeks. “Please.” You begged again. 

Bucky, despite the guilt he’d felt just moments ago, scoffed in your face with a smirk on his own. “That’s not what you were begging for just an hour ago, was it?” Bucky pouted and then with his best whiny voice mocked you, “‘oh please baby, that’s it, fuck you feel so good. More, more, please, oh fuck please–,” 

You cut him off with a slap across the face. Bucky chuckled like an asshole, not feeling the pain at all, even though it sent his face sideways because he wasn’t expecting it. And somehow getting a reaction out of you tasted so sweet. He wanted more. 

“Do you remember now? Remember how you made my life miserable?” He asked. 

Sniffling, you asked him back, “What do you want? I said I was sorry.” 

“Oh no. You don’t get to just apologise. For four years of my life, I’d wake up every single day and hate it.” He said. “Because of you and your cool group of friends.” His tone was so bitter it was unrecognizable. “Did it make you feel good? Making fun of me? Did it make you feel all big and powerful, picking on me?” 

You shook your head, sniffling. Looking like you regretted it now. Part of him wanted to end this weird interrogation, but he also needed to know, didn’t he? 

So he asked. “Then why did you do it?” 

Silence. 

One of his hands left the door and wrapped itself around your throat. Bucky felt how you tensed under his touch as he pressed himself against you even more, making sure you couldn’t slip away. 

“Buck–,” You squealed, but the way he tightened his grip just a little made you stop. 

Bucky continued with his taunts. “Writing all those things on my door. Spreading rumours about me. Ruining any chance I had at real friendships with people. You think that was funny?” 

You finally found your voice, though quiet and pleading. “Those were stupid, childish pranks, Bucky please, and I am so s–” 

He cut you off again, raising his voice a little. “Childish pranks to you! For me those childish pranks of yours made my life hell for four years.” He scoffed. “You were the popular girl everyone wanted. Your parents were rich. You had everything most of us didn’t have. So why did you do it?” He questioned. “Why did you pick on me? Why not the others? What did I ever do to you to deserve that treatment?” His voice went down so low it made you tremble. 

He loved it. The power he held in that moment. For a moment, he wished the younger him had felt half the way he felt right now. He decided to mess with you just a little more. Scaring you with his words, because he knew he could never hurt you. Not like this. “We’re all alone up this mountain, you know?” He said, in a calm voice that only made your tears flow even more. “No neighbours,” He reminded you. “No one to hear you scream, no one to help you.” He surprised himself with how cold he sounded, like he was someone else. 

“Please.” You begged, unable to say anything else. 

“I used to dream about this, you know?” He confessed. “About having you at my mercy. About having you plead and beg me.” He chuckled, staring right into your eyes. “It’s fucked up, you see? I could never understand it.” 

He tilted his head to the side, sliding his thigh in between your legs, loving the way you gasped and instinctively, mindlessly spread your legs ever so gently to let him in, it was barely noticeable. 

“As much as I hated you before, as much as you were a total bitch to me, I never stopped wondering what it would be like to be inside you.” He scoffed, as if at a memory. “I used to fantasize about it back in uni too. I always wondered what it would be like to have you open and soft and wet for me.” He pressed his leg up against your core. “To hear you purr and moan, and fuck me,” He laughed, “You’re better than what I imagined.” 

You were trapped in place, unable to move, unable to look away. Bucky could tell you were scared, but there was something else in your eyes that he couldn’t quite name. A strange calmness of sorts. 

Bucky continued his monologue, rubbing his thigh so gently in between your legs. He doubted you even noticed because all you did was stare at him with teary eyes, that strange look in them, and your soft mouth slightly open. “So what is it about you, huh?” He squeezed his hand around your throat for just a second before letting go, he could feel your pulse quicken. “What is it about this god damn pussy that made me ruin my own plans.” He scoffed in disappointment. “I never intended to keep you around for so long. I wanted to bring you up here as quickly as possible, mess with you a little bit, scare you and send you running. And in the meantime make you regret how you treated me all those years ago.” 

Bucky pulled his thigh away from yours, and smirked when you gasped at the loss of contact. Ah, so you were enjoying it. He was sure he looked just as smug as he felt. 

“But,” Bucky continued, “All I’ve done since I met you is be buried deep into that pussy. And anytime I’m not in there I think about it. About you. About your taste. The sounds you make when I’m fucking you. The way you say my name. The way you look under me. The way your arms and legs wrap around me so perfectly…” He trailed off, noticing the way you squeezed your eyes shut, as if not facing him would erase all those weeks you spent tangled with one another. 

“Look at me,” He murmured, still in that mean and cold voice. The one he could barely recognise. He didn’t sound like someone who hated you. He sounded like someone who was obsessed. “A few weeks in your company and I’m willing to do just about anything to keep you looking at me with that dreamy look in your eyes.” He said, sincerely. “I wanna give you everything. Wanna take you anywhere you wanna go. Show you everything. Make all your wishes come true.” 

He noticed your eyes were still shut. So he got bolder, he reached for your hair and grabbed a fistful securely in his grip, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to open your eyes in fear, panic, and… that strange look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Look at me!” He hissed. “Look at what you’ve done to me! Haven’t you fucked with my head enough?!”

You spoke up this time. Pleading again, “Bucky, I’m so sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t– I wasn’t thinking back then.” You sniffled. “I was so stupid, everything I did was so stupid, Bucky please. I really am sorry.” 

“Yeah?” He sounded bored. Then like a switch, he went back to being icy again. “You wanna make up for it?” 

A blink. Silence. Then you said, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh baby,” He cooed, “Is that what you think I’m gonna do? Hurt you? If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it that same night at the bar.” He shook his head, his hand leaving your hair, coming down to trace the shape of your mouth. “Hurting you was never in the plans.” 

You shivered. 

“Making you beg for it was.” He stated. “And you will.” He sounded so confident. “You will beg me for it, won’t you? Hmm? You’ll beg me to fuck you. And then you’re gonna say you’re sorry. And you’ll really mean it this time. You want that, don’t you, baby?” He smirked. “Of course you do. Otherwise why would you be rubbing yourself all over me like that?” 

You froze, probably just now realising what you’d been doing this whole time. Bucky couldn’t help the smug smirk. Oh fuck, this is everything he’s ever dreamt of. So he reached for you, his hands sliding right up in between your legs. 

He watched how you frowned for a moment as he rubbed his fingers against your clothed, but embarrassingly wet folds. Your thin, little satin shorts were barely a barrier. 

“Oh?” He teased, “Treating you like a little slut doesn’t turn you off, does it?” He pulled you closer by your throat and you shivered again, whimpering quietly. You gasped as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “You filthy, little whore.” He chuckled, then pushed your shorts and underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out an involuntary moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. “Yeah? You like that?” 

“Please…” You pleaded, still not pushing him away. Your hands remained at your sides. Your body felt warm under his touch, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Please what?” He almost growled as he slid a finger inside you and felt you immediately clench hard around him. “See? This is what I’m talking about. It was so much easier to hate you when I didn’t know what you felt like, what you tasted like,” He spoke, his lips leaving your mouth and trailing to your ear where he whispered, “Now all I wanna do is get inside you and make you happy.” He sighed, then chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “What the hell are you doing to me?” 

Hearing you whine and gasp as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you was divine. 

He added another finger. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Do you feel powerful now as you did back then? Hmm?” He spoke against your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face as he pulled away just a little to look at you. “Is this where you thought you’d be one day, you little slut? At my mercy?” He chuckled, removing his hands from in between your legs as he pulled you away from the door, keeping his hand at your throat simply because he wanted to and moved you until you were sitting on the edge of his large, nearby desk. 

He stepped away for a moment, just to look at you and your slightly disheveled state. Your satin PJs sticking to your now damp with sweat skin. You were breathing heavily, your hands clutching the edge of his desk for dear life. 

“I want you to get naked and bend over the desk.” 

You remained frozen in place, even when the order left his lips. Bucky toyed with his lip ring, before pulling it into his mouth while he stared into your eyes. “Did you not hear me?” 

Finally finding your voice, you whispered again, “Bucky, I said I was sorry.” 

Bucky stepped closer until he stood right in front of you and reached out to grab your hair at the back of your neck again, fisting it securely in his grip as he tugged just a little to tilt your head back. It seemed to be the only way he got your attention. He leaned in to nuzzle your neck, kissing along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I don’t want your apology. I want you begging for me. Now, didn’t you hear what I said? I told you to bend over the desk for me.” He used that tone again, the icy one. The one that said you were in trouble if you didn’t do what he asked. 

So you did. 

When he released you, you held his stare with some cold defiance in your eyes as you discarded your PJs. You’d gotten naked with him multiple times over the last month or two, so this was nothing. Once done, you turned around and bent over the edge of his large desk. 

You sighed in defeat when your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. You ass pressed against the front of his sweatpants and you whimpered at the feel of his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not once touching you right where you needed him to. 

You gasped, then he noticed you quickly bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “I wanna hear every little sound you make.” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled. 

He heard your gasping and whimpering as quietly as you could as he lazily finger-fucked you. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you. Teasing you a bit more before pulling out. 

Bucky lowered his sweats to free his cock, then his hands were on you again. He grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

He waited, he could almost feel your heart racing as he did nothing but wait for a reaction from you. He caught the way you discretely tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling as you whined in desperation. 

“Aww, what is it?” He asked, leaning over your exposed back. His chest pressing down onto you as he whispered into your ear. “You want this cock? Huh? You want it so bad, don’t you?” He hissed, “Then beg for it, slut.” 

He heard a weak, “Please,” but that wasn’t enough now, was it? 

“I said, beg.” 

“Please… Bucky, I– I want your cock. So bad.” You whispered. “Please, can I have it?” Like you were ashamed of wanting him. “I’ll be good from now on, I promise.” 

He wasn’t expecting that last part, but honestly, how sweet was it to hear! 

Pleased with your begging, Bucky groaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tighten around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you once again, making you moan and gasp under him. “You’ll be good, huh?” He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Just this cock has you acting right, huh?” He laughed as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. 

“Yes…,” You admitted. You whimpered as he pounded even harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? Not such a proud, arrogant little slut now, are you?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. “Huh? You’re not as bitchy as you were back then, look at you now. All nice and bent over my desk.” He hissed, “Don’t you dare fucking come yet!” 

You whined, “Bucky, I can’t-,” 

He cut you off quickly, “Yes you fucking can.” He snarled. “You said you were gonna be good from now on, right? Well hold it then, don’t fucking come yet.” He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. He thrust so deep into you that even the desk moved a little, screeching as it did across the floor. 

A loud moan escaped your mouth and Bucky smirked. Looks like you were enjoying this a little too much, huh? He couldn’t have that just yet, now could he? So he pulled out and pulled you up and off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air, your tear stained face was a sight to behold. And that wild hunger in your eyes because even given the situation, he fucked you good and knew how to make you want more of it, and he knew that. 

“Get on your knees.” He ordered. “Now.” 

He was surprised at how quick you were, obeying immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. And that strange look still. You kept your eyes on his as he grabbed his glistening cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth, spreading your own wetness all over your mouth and said, “Be a good little slut, and suck.” 

You did. You opened wide as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. He gripped the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he spoke, “Now, worship this fucking cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for. He smirked as you began moving immediately, “That's it. Make me fucking come, you filthy little slut.” 

You looked up at him, and for a moment, Bucky was fully captivated. Like he was in a trance. There you were, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do. Just like how he’d always dreamt of. 

“Oh, look at you,” He cooed, as if mocking you. “Working hard for this cock, huh? Remember that night at the bar, bet you wanted it right there. You could barely wait to have it, could you? You barely bothered to ask me my full name,” He chuckled. “You were just so hungry for it.” Bucky let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “Tell me, do you still want it just the same now that you know who I really am?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. 

Another tear dropped from your eye, but then you nodded awkwardly, mouth still around his tip. 

“Yeah, you do. ‘Cause you’re nothing but a cock hungry little slut, aren’t you?” He groaned at the sight of you with your mouth full and said, “That’s it. Get up.” 

You listened, and he shoved you up on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. His hand grabbed you by the chin, holding your face in place as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp as he began fucking you again. 

“Look at you,” He spoke through gritted teeth, now fucking you with a rougher pace. “Fucking disgusting with spit and precum all over your mouth,” He whispered, leaning in just to mess with you – not once kissing you. He pushed your thighs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. 

“Bucky…” You gasped. 

“What, slut?” He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly. “Your little cunt feels so good, you know that? So fucking tight,” He whispered against your mouth, before pulling away to spit into your open mouth, not once stopping his thrusts. “It’s a shame you were such a bitch back then, otherwise you could’ve had this cock a long time ago.” 

“Please…” You whined as he pounded into you aggressively. A tear slipped out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah? You’re sorry now?” 

You nodded. 

Bucky felt your walls clench violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Are you gonna come for me? You're gonna come all over this cock? Huh?”  

“Yes,” You whimpered, “Yes, please.” You cried in pleasure and pain. “Please, Buck.” 

“Damn it!” He groaned. “Fuck you! Fuck you for being so good. For messing with my head.” He hissed, staring deep into your eyes, “And fuck you for not letting me enjoy this as much as I wanted to because I can’t bring myself to fucking hurt you!”  

Bucky slowed down just a little, making you cry out. 

“I dreamt of this, you know? All I’ve ever done is think about this moment right here. I always thought I’d scare you to a point where you take off running,” He scoffed, “Hell, I even fantasized about chasing after you in these damn woods!” He shook his head, still holding your stare. “Look at me now, look! Even now I couldn’t help but make it nice and good for you. To fuck you like I know you like it. I couldn’t help but be buried deep inside you yet again!” 

“I’m sorry,” You whined, “I really am.” 

Bucky wanted to punch himself. 

“Shut the fuck up and come for me!” 

A loud cry, then you came – mumbling and whining and crying. A complete mess on his desk. 

Bucky followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind. He caught you just as you fell forward into his chest, unable to hold yourself up as you caught your breath. 

Bucky calmed himself down, let out a sigh and glared at that damned, giant bulletin board covering the entire wall behind you as he wrapped his arms around your shaking body. God damn it. 

—

Reader’s POV: 

Your memory was a little hazy after that. You remembered bits and pieces. How he got you into the shower. His gentle touches, even as he washed himself. His hands and how they never left your body, holding you close and cleaning you up as best he could. 

Him whispered, “I’ve got you.” Over and over again. Like he was guilty. 

You remember you tried talking to him, as he dried you with a fluffy towel, “You hate me.” It came out like a statement. 

“Be quiet.” His icy voice snapped, and he refused to meet your eyes. The coldness of his tone and the soothing, gentle touch of his hands were giving you a whiplash. But you took it. Of course, you did. 

“Would you ever forgive me?” You asked him as he wrapped your favourite fluffy robe around you and brought you to bed. It was late, closer to sunrise than midnight. “Could you?” 

Bucky finally looked at you and said, “Just… be quiet.” His tone was much softer than earlier. “Here, drink this.” He handed you some water. You accepted it, sipping on it as you let him fuss over the bedding and blankets until he made a nice little nest for you to sink into. 

You thought he’d tuck you in and leave, probably to go back to that weird lair of his downstairs. But no, he got in after you. Quiet, and grumpy as he was, he still pulled in to cuddle like you two had the habit of doing for the past month or two. 

You hid your face into his chest, sighing and breathing in his scent, letting his body heat warm you up. You could hear the wind picking up outside, but that was none of your concern. 

A minute went by in silence, in darkness, except for the bedside lamp which illuminated the room with a soft golden glow. Another minute went by, Bucky breathed steadily. His hands moving up and down your back. Both of you were quiet. 

There was so much you wanted to say to him, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

He sighed, then let out a mindless, “Hmm.” 

“I really am.” You whispered again, snuggling closer as if you wanted to get inside his skin. 

Another careless, “Hmm.” 

You sniffled, feeling like crying again. “Please forgive me.” 

“Stop crying.” He said, gently this time. 

“I’ll make up for it.” You found yourself saying. “I’ll do anything. I mean it.” 

Bucky sighed. “Oh yeah? How will you make up for it?” He said, with just a hint of pleasantry in his tone. 

“How many kids do you want?” 

Bucky chuckled. Genuinely chuckled, not like the mocking ones from earlier. But this was boyish, and very him. “You’re finishing your book tour soon.” He said. “Then you’ve got to start on your new project.” He sighed again, sounding a little tired and spent. “No kids for now, angel.” 

Silence again. This silence felt way less tense than before. Bucky’s movements were getting slower and slower as he relaxed more and more. 

Then out of nowhere you asked, “Have you… ever read any of my books?” 

A pause. Then he said, “All of them.” 

That took you by genuine surprise. “All of them?” 

“All of them.” 

You hesitated to ask, “Do you like them? 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “Do I like them?” He taunted. “Look at me. I became what you write about.” Then he reached for your face, tilting your head up so he could look at you. “Yes I do. I like them.” He said. “You’re very talented, baby. You deserved all the attention and recognition you get.” 

“Oh.” 

Silence again. You looked away from him, but he must’ve been able to see the gears turning in your head so he gently smacked your thigh and said, “Stop thinking.” He pulled the covers around you once again, making sure you were nice and warm. “Go to sleep.” He said. 

You snuggled deeper into his side, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. A few minutes went by, and Bucky fell asleep before you did. He began snoring softly just moments after. 

You stayed awake though. Thinking, caressing his bare chest. After all, how could one sleep after finally getting to where they plotted to be for the last ten years? You hid a smirk as you kissed Bucky’s warm, tattooed chest. You whispered, quietly, “Took me a decade to get to you, Buck. But it was all worth it.” You snuggled deeper into his side. Smiling at his adorable snores. 

Bucky was indeed a mastermind. Stalking you, following your each and every move. Keeping track of where you were and where you went at all times, who you met and what you did. It couldn’t have been easy. 

He thought he alone plotted this whole thing. He thought that he was the only one manipulating circumstances in ways to get what he wanted. Into getting you to let your guard down and let him in. Thinking you didn’t recognise him that night you met at the bar. 

Thinking you forgot. 

You let out a little chuckle, “Oh Buck. You did so well. But you don’t know half the work I put into all this.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest again, “Do you even know how much work goes into

manipulating someone into thinking they’re successfully manipulating you?” 

Bucky was a mastermind. Each one of his moves were perfectly calculated. He was so smart. He’d always been, ever since uni. 

But Bucky wasn’t the only mastermind. Because you plotted too. 

Always holding or attending book signings, readings, or other events in cities he was in. Always being around, but right outside of his circle – enough so that in these past ten years, he never stopped hearing about you from friends or colleagues, or friends of friends. Always making sure your advertisements were on billboards that were near his houses, offices, hang out spots, etc. 

All that was by your design. You made sure you’d never leave his head. 

You do admit, being mean to him in uni was stupid and unforgivable. But what else were you supposed to do? How else were you going to live rent free in his head? He never made a move on you in uni because he was also so intimidated. Always so shy, and quiet. 

So you did what you had to do. Sure, it took years. And the whole time, you let him think he was the only one orchestrating this. You let him think his manipulation techniques were working. You let him think he was punishing you when really, you’d been dreaming of these punishments ever since you saw him that first day on campus. 

Earlier, in the study, when you saw that bullet board and froze – it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of surprise. You knew Bucky always kept a close eye on you and everything you did these past years. You even let him. You let his guys follow you around, you let them overhear details you wanted Bucky to know. You let Bucky watch you, purposely lingering around cameras whenever you were out. 

But you didn’t know his obsession mirrored yours. Because if he would’ve searched your penthouse a little more thoroughly, he would’ve found a similar bulletin board that you’d been keeping for years now – tracking him and all that he did. 

You placed another kiss on Bucky’s chest and sighed in bliss. “You’re not the only mastermind, baby. But it’s not a competition now, is it? We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?” You asked, looking up to see his peaceful, sleeping face. “Huh, baby? It’s alright. You’re a tiny bit sloppy with your stalking skills, but never mind. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.” 

---

a/n: it's been a while huh-

[dualitea-01]

MASTERPIECE!!!

[holylulusworld]

They shall speak now… (2)

Summary: You are a wedding crasher.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: wedding crashing gone wrong, mafia au, cocky/sassy reader, flirting mafia style

A/N: Very slightly inspired by the movie “Wedding Crashers”. Only the idea of crashing weddings.

Catch up here: They shall speak now… (1)

“I…I,” you nervously stammered. His gaze was too intense to hold, so you looked away. “I didn’t…uh…you looked bored…and…”

“So…” He repeated. “Who are you to decide that I can do better? Do I know you? Have we met before?” His smirk deepened when you shyly tugged at the hem of your dress.

“No! We should go. I’m sorry for interrupting.” You hiccupped, nervously staring at your hands.  Sorry…uh...sometimes my brain is slower than my mouth!” You exclaimed, springing to your feet. Ready to go for a sprint.

Bucky grinned wolfishly. His voice was a little rougher when he said, “That so? We never met, and you still came to my rescue. How did you know I was bored to death?”

“She was joking,” Nia jumped in. You were staring at Bucky, and she feared you’d end up being his next meal if you looked at him for a little longer. “We are leaving. Sorry for the trouble.”

Your friend tried to drag you away, but two bulky guys blocked your path. “She stays,” Bucky said, leaving you trembling. “A woman saving me from a boring life deserves a reward."

Nia froze at Bucky’s commanding tone. “Excuse me?” She managed to say. “She will come with me.”

Bucky laughed at the way Nia protected you. “You’re a cocky one, I see.” He gave a curt nod, and the men stepped aside.

You still didn’t dare to breathe wrong. This man was staring you down after your mishap, and you didn’t know how to talk yourself out of the situation.

“Let’s go,” Nia said, but you remained rooted to the spot. Bucky’s gaze was still on you, and his eyes told you not to move an inch.

“You look like you're planning an escape route.” He joked, his mouth curving upward. “Maybe I should call security back. What do you say?”

“Maybe I’m planning to escape,” you admitted. “I just ruined your wedding ceremony, and you look like someone hiding a gun in their pants.”

He laughed, following your eyes. You were shamelessly staring at his crotch, and he couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes.

“There she is. I feared we lost here.”

You blinked. “What?”

“The cocky woman who told me I could do better.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He recalled your words and hummed. “You’re the only person who told me the truth about the bride and this wedding.”

“That wasn't honesty; it was more like random thoughts escaping my mouth without permission."

“That wasn’t an accident nor random. You wanted to save me from an awful, boring marriage. You’re my savior.”

Nia crossed her arms, trying to look tough. She hid the chill running down her spine when looking at Bucky. “Sir, she apologized. Can we pretend this never happened? Y/N can be impulsive; sometimes she speaks before she thinks. We love her for it.”

Bucky ignored her completely. He set his eyes on you and wouldn’t back down now. How could he? He stopped the ceremony for another woman.

“What did you mean?”

You really didn’t know. “I was thinking you looked stunning in that suit. My brain short-circuited, and then I said what I said. No offense. You looked like you wanted to swallow glass before marrying that woman.”

“That so?” He cocked his head, searching your face.

“Fine!” You said, throwing your hands up. “You looked miserable. A handsome man like you should look happy on his wedding day, not like someone twisted your balls.

Bucky laughed. “No one twisted my balls, doll. No one would dare try.”

“You looked like you wanted to be somewhere else. I know that feeling. Sometimes you must do things that make you miserable. Your wedding shouldn’t be one of these things,” you murmured. “I’d understand if the bride looked miserable. Her dress was a mess.”

“Y/N, don’t.” Nia winced. She was wringing her hands, silently praying to get out of the church alive.

“She’s flashy but pretty. Maybe you’re more into…uh…men?”

“Wow,” Bucky said.

“What?”

“No one's ever said that to me before.”

“Really?”

“Not to my face.”

You giggled. “So…is it true?”

Bucky laughed. “No.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I have a cute cousin. He’d be your type,” you said.

“I already found someone who’s my type,” he replied, earning a disappointed whine from you.

Nia looked between the two of you suspiciously. “Oh no.” She muttered under her breath.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“He likes you...”

[skaye44]

Kidnap My Heart

Summary: You accidentally witness a murder by members of the Barnes Mafia and are brought back to live at the mansion since they don't know what to do with you. You then find out a lot more about your old boss than you could ever imagine and enter a new world you never knew existed.

Content warning: Language, violence, guns, murder/death, drinking, corruption, mentions of trafficking, kidnapping, enemies to lovers vibe, morally grey mafia leader Bucky.

Type of Bucky: Morally grey mafia leader Bucky

Part 1/2

"Aren't you going home yet?" Your co-worker asked. 

"Ugh, I wish. I have to head down to the accounting department and help them organize their files. Since the cyber attack, Mr. Rumlow doesn't trust anyone, so I get to be the lucky one." You shuddered thinking of your boss' wrath on the IT department last month. 

You worked at Hydra Enterprises and you were the CEO's personal assistant. You're recovering from a recent cyber attack on the company, but you weren't given too many specifics on why you were targeted, or what the result was. Your boss has kept quiet to most employees, even you. 

All you knew what that someone targeted Hydra Enterprises, large sums of money were lost, account information was leaked, clients and investors bailed, and it was bad. 

"I just finished re-confirming all of Mr. Rumlow's appointments for next week." 

"Sounds fun."

 "You know it. I'll catch you next week. Have a good weekend," you waved and grabbed a handful of files to bring down to accounting.

Mr. Rumlow had left a few hours ago for a meeting with his lawyer, and his parting instructions to you were to help accounting with re-entering information into the new system since they were short on staff from the mass firings he did since the attack. 

You thought he was being a little paranoid but understood seeing as how you lost a huge chunk of money and business. He assured you he was on top of it and had wanted you to schedule as many meetings as possible so he could assure the investors all was well and secure as ever. 

The job was easy enough and he paid you a metric ton of overtime in cash to do it, so you didn't mind. You huffed out a breath as you watched everyone else leave for the night, going home to their families and lives while you made your way to the drab accounting floor. 

Whatever. You didn't mind working late since you were kind of a loner with the few friends you had. Growing up in the foster system was hard enough, being shuffled from family to family took its toll, but you somehow survived.

You got to your temporary desk and started inputting data and figures, making sure to set your alarm so you were done at 9pm. You're pretty sure you were the only one in the building seeing as how what remained of the accounting team left an hour ago, but you didn't mind. 

You somehow always got more work done in a quiet place rather than a bustling office. You often worked late and alone regardless of this issue, and you knew the building was safe because of all the security passes and codes you were made to memorize, enter, and swipe since your boss was paranoid well before the attack. 

You thought it was overkill, but Mr. Rumlow insisted. Finger ID, facial recognition, hand scanners, and regular old key fobs were the norm you just dealt with but almost understood seeing as how there were a lot of files he had on his investors, he needed to keep secure, until they weren't. 

You're certain Mr. Rumlow outed the cyber company in charge of your company files and data and had them go bankrupt from their lack of privacy, so you're now working with a new one.

Your alarm broke your concentration and snapped you out of your work. You took your phone and tapped the screen to stop the noise, stretching and yawning from the day's work. "Alright, alright, I'm going home," you muttered. You took your files and filed them into the completed cabinets and went to grab your purse but grumbled to yourself. 

"Of course I forgot it," you sighed. 

Your mind was like a sieve sometimes. You left your purse in your desk outside of Mr. Rumlow's office. 

"Ugh," you turned off the computer and headed back up to your regular floor.

The elevator doors opened revealing your floor, so you stepped off and made your way down the hall. The office was eerily dark, with a few blinking lights from the computer equipment as the blinds were all closed. It was unusual for all the blinds to be closed, but the cleaning crew was supposed to come through, so you figured they were the ones to close them. You walked towards your desk, bent down and opened the drawer, and got your purse when you heard a loud crash and some muffled shuffling. 

"What the?" 

You took a few steps towards your boss' office and opened the door since you saw there was a light coming from the room. 

"Hello? Mr. Rumlow?" 

You walked into the office, and your hands flew to your mouth in shock at what you saw, so you let out a scream.

---

"I'm only asking you one last time, where are the containers?" 

Steve Rogers held Brock Rumlow by the collar. He was bent over his desk and struggling, flailing his arms. 

"Fuck you and fuck the Barnes mafia," Rumlow spat in Steve's face. 

Steve rolled his eyes and managed to wipe his face letting go of Brock's shirt, violently shoving him aside. Sam Wilson stepped in and landed a punch to Brock's jaw making his head jerk back with force. 

Brock Rumlow's right hand man Jasper Sitwell lay on the floor next to his desk bleeding out. Steve made sure to get to him first since he's well known as a slippery rat.

James Barnes has had enough of Brock Rumlow creeping in on his territory. The odd arms deal or drug deal he could tolerate, but with the news of him trafficking women on his turf, James had enough and sent his men to dispose of Rumlow once and for all. 

Rumlow's mob wasn't nearly as powerful as the Barnes mafia, but he had done some shady dealings and when word got out, he was trafficking women, some underage, that made James see red. He had to put a stop to it and fast plus by taking over Brock's fledgling mob, it will help James grow his connections to the piers. Something Rumlow controlled.

The cyber attack James ordered to take out Rumlow's company only stalled him, so James decided enough was enough, so his main men were paying one final visit to him once and for all.

Rumlow struggled to get his balance righted since Steve took out one of his kneecaps already. 

"This is your last chance. Tell us where the containers are." Sam glared at Brock. 

Brock was bent over and leaning against his desk, struggling to breathe. He looked around his office and snorted. He knew he was done for; he just wanted to prolong the inevitable. Steve rolled his eyes and took out his gun from his holster, cocking it as he raised it up to aim at him, waiting for a reply. 

Just as Brock was going to speak, Sitwell stirred making both Steve and Sam look towards him. 

"Warehouse, by the docks. Pier 57," then he slumped over, and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. 

"Fuckin' rat," Brock muttered. 

Their info matched what Sitwell said. Sam smiled at Steve who turned and in one quick motion, fired a bullet in-between Brock's eyes making him immediately slump down at his desk.

Then they heard a scream.

---

You saw the dark-skinned man's eyes shoot towards the one who fired the gun, and they both looked at each other. 

"I thought you said the office was clear!" The shooter growled. 

"I did. No one was here when we scanned it earlier." The shooter put his gun away then they both looked at you standing in the doorway to the office. 

You were holding your mouth in shock, legs trembling at the bloody scene in front of you. The two large heavily tatted men seemed to stare at you while also panicking.

You saw Jasper Sitwell, Brock's lawyer lying in a pool of what was probably his own blood, then you looked towards your boss' desk and saw him slumped over it with a bullet hole in his forehead, eyes glazed over and blank. Your heart was racing. 

"Oh my god! I have-I-I have to call someone," but you were frozen on the spot. 

Your brain was racing a mile a minute with what to do. 

"Woah woah, now," the dark-skinned man took a few steps towards you. 

You managed to unfreeze yourself from the doorway. 

"Back away..." Your voice trembled. 

You looked around you and all there was to grab was your desk phone, so you yanked it from the outlet and held it up. Both men smirked at you. 

"What are you gonna do with that sweetheart?" The shooter calmly asked. 

"I-I..." 

He was right. What the hell were you going to do with an office phone? Chuck it at him? He's got a gun and probably a bunch of other weapons you idiot.

"Put it down," he calmly held out his hands. 

You were going to drop it and run, but you heard footsteps behind you. You were trapped. The dark-skinned man took out his phone and was calling someone. You shook where you stood, breathing heavily. 

"Come on now, nice and easy. We aren't going to hurt ya," The shooter took a step towards you. 

You heard the dark skin man talking to someone on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, we need a clean up crew. Rumlow's office." Then he hung up. "What are we going to do with her?" he asked the shooter. 

The shooter looked around and he sighed. 

"Let's bring her with us. The boss will want to see for himself. Probably has questions and she may be of use to him." 

You shook while listening to them.

"Wh-where am I going?" 

Both men looked at you and smiled.

 "To see the boss." 

You trembled. "Who's that?" 

The shooter smirked. "You'll see. I'm Steve and that's Sam." 

Sam gave you a slight nod as he stepped towards you. 

"You gonna take that phone with you as a parting gift sweets?" 

You looked down at the grey office phone you still held, then dropped it. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you." You stood tall. 

No way were these guys taking you anywhere. 

"Oh, but you are. You're coming with us." 

"You think it's a good idea?" Sam asked. 

"Don't care. She wasn't on our list tonight and we can't let her leave with what she saw, she'll go to the cops. Buck will probably want to question her." 

"Then what?"

 Steve shrugged. 

"Not our concern what he does with her after he gets his information." 

Sam huffed at his cryptic reply, and the two men proceeded to leave Brock's office. Sam grabbed your arm tight and walked you to the elevator. You were ushered into a large blacked out SUV; Sam and Steve sat on either side of you while you weaved through the darkened city streets.

"So, what are you?" 

Sam looked over at Steve, seeming unsure of what to tell you. 

"All you need to know right now is, your boss wasn't a good man, and his company is being taken over." Sam shrugged his shoulder making you snort. 

"Like you two are any better..." You grumbled. These two men were some shady people, especially the shooter. 

"We did what we were ordered to do. We took out a problem, plain and simple," Steve added. 

"So, someone told you to do...all that?" 

You couldn't say the word murder; you were still processing everything you saw. 

"Something like that," Steve smirked. 

The SUV finally turned off the main road and was in front of a gate that surrounded what looked like a large compound with armed guards patrolling the perimeter. The security team waved you in as the heavy ornate iron gates closed behind you. 

The drive was impressive with its tree-lined path, bright lighting, and large working fountain that sat in the middle of the driveway.

You came to a stop outside a large sprawling two-storey mansion, and you had to close your mouth in awe. You've seen places like this, but only on TV, or in those fancy overpriced home and architecture magazines at the grocery store. 

"Woah," you breathed out. 

"Come along then." 

Sam got out of the car and ushered you inside, with Steve following. 

"Word of advice don't piss off the big guy in charge," Sam whispered. 

Just as you blurted out the word "Who?", you heard determined footsteps walk down a marble tiled hallway before you could ask anything else. 

The foyer of the mansion was impressive as you looked around. 

"Who the hell is this?" Came the deep voice that belonged to the man now standing in front of you.

Your mouth popped open in shock as the man pulled out a black handgun from his side holster and pointed it at you. 

The metal of the gun matched his intricate dark hand and knuckle tattoos. 

"What the hell?" 

You shook in terror, rooted in place that there was a gun being pointed at you. You were beginning to feel like everyone had a gun they were all too happy to show off. Steve stepped in front of you and held his arms up in surrender. 

"Easy Buck. She's Rumlow's assistant."

"I don't give a shit if she's his fuck toy, what the hell is she doing here inside my home?" 

You were taken aback by his brash comment. No way in hell did you ever harbour any sort of romantic feelings for Brock. Sure, he was nice to look at, but you were his assistant, nothing more. Every interaction between you two had always been professional and respectful considering what you had recently learned of your former boss. Never once had your thoughts strayed to being romantic. 

"Ugh, rude," you blurted out. 

You saw Sam slap his forehead and wince at your comment. 

"What was that?" The trigger-happy man cocked his gun at you. 

"Easy Buck. She may have information and company access seeing as she worked directly with Rumlow everyday. She can help with the transition, computer logins, contracts, and files." Steve tried calming down the man and it may have worked. 

The man stood glaring at you, but he eventually put his gun down and held it at his side.

The man known as 'Buck' stood tall in his perfectly tailored all black suit with the top button of his crisp white shirt unbuttoned. His dark hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes were laser focused on you. 

He scanned you from head to toe then he turned to Sam, placing his gun back in his side holster. 

"You had cleared the floor before you got there, right?" 

You saw Sam take a gulp and nod. 

This 'Buck' nodded and thought about it.

 "No one was there when we entered." Sam whispered. 

Steve shuffled a little but still stood almost blocking you, seeming to know what was about to come. 

 "So, explain her then," he pointed back at you and Sam looked at Steve for help. 

Steve stood still like a statue and watched. Clearly, he wasn't getting involved. 

"Well, we..." Just as Sam went to speak, 'Buck' leaned in and punched his jaw making Sam take a few steps back. 

"What the hell Bucky?" Steve groaned. 

Bucky turned back to Steve and glared at him. 

"You assholes had one job tonight. Take out Sitwell and Rumlow." 

"We did." Sam winced and rubbed his jaw. Bucky snorted. 

"Then why did you pick up a fucking stray?" Bucky pointed at you. 

Sam and Steve looked at each other. 

"She witnessed everything. We didn't know what to do with her since she wasn't on our list," they admitted. 

"How about kill her too?" Bucky spat at them. 

They looked at you, then back at 'Buck'. 

You still shook and trembled at what your fate was. Were you going to die in this mafia guy's foyer? Probably...but what a beautiful foyer it was. It was late and even though you were exhausted, you were on high alert. 

These men killed two people you knew and worked with everyday. Two people who were into some shady shit where the fucking mafia was involved but still. Your whole world was a lie, and you were confused and scared.

Bucky rubbed his eyes with his fingers but stopped and looked at you. You shuffled nervously under his intense gaze. 

His eyes looked you over from top to bottom like he was memorizing a fine piece of art. It should have felt uncomfortable, but for some reason, it turned you on and you wanted to punch yourself for having those thoughts on what you had just been through. 

"Take her to the guest wing. Have Clint watch her tonight. I'll deal with this shit tomorrow." he grumbled then added, "I'm going to the club." 

He looked between Sam and Steve then to you, then he left the foyer and got into a waiting SUV outside to take him to the 'club'.

"Well, that went well." Steve clapped his hands together making Sam snort. 

You looked around, still in a daze. The hell was all that?

"Come along then." 

Steve walked you up a large set of stairs towards one of the many rooms that lined the hallway. 

"Wh-what's going to happen to me?" you asked. 

Steve didn't reply. He showed you to a bedroom and gestured you inside. There was a large bed, chair, window with a built-in bench seat, closet, and what looked to be an ensuite. 

"Clint will keep guard of your room. You're not to leave until you're told to. Bulletproof windows are locked, and security surrounds us 24/7 so you can't escape even if you tried as they're trained to shoot without asking questions. The only one to override the perimeter guards is Bucky, and he's not here. I'll see about getting some food sent up to you when you're settled." Steve gave you a small smile then he left. You heard the door close then the audible 'click' locking you inside.

"Great." You muttered. 

You explored the room and tried looking for ways to escape, but there was no use. You looked out the window and saw the armed guards that patrolled the grounds, the bulletproof glass showed a wonky reflection around the edges, and a man named Clint was supposedly stationed outside your room like a hawk watching its prey. It was no use, you were trapped. 

You looked down at your clothes and sighed. Your dusty black pants and rumpled blue blouse would have to do. 

"Guess I'm living in this for the foreseeable future." 

You sat at the end of the bed and waited. That Steve guy said he was going to drop off some food, but who knows how quick he'll be and what you'll even get. When he did, you were going to ask him for a change of clothes because why not?

You sat and thought about Brock, to see if you missed any warning signs of his alternative life and for the life of you, you couldn't come up with anything. Jasper Sitwell came in and had his weekly meetings but a lawyer meeting with a CEO wasn't unusual. Brock was always respectful towards you considering you just found out he was trafficking women in his spare time. Ew. Guess you didn't meet his 'requirements' you shuddered to yourself. 

Looking back on it now, the extra security codes and passes you had to memorize kind of made sense. 

You scheduled his meetings, transportation, dinners, events, and anything else he needed whenever he asked. You couldn't figure out how he had an entire (and highly illegal) secret life he kept hidden from you, but he did. 

What else was he hiding? 

You thought about the company and it's divisions and couldn't think of anything off the top of your head. You started worrying if you would be held accountable for their deaths or questioned by law enforcement. Would they believe you were innocent? You had scheduled his meetings all over the place and dealt with his personal finances, would they know you had no knowledge of this part of his life? 

There was no way you were going to jail for being a part of something you had no idea existed, especially for a piece of garbage scum like Brock.

A knock sounded on the door snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts and Steve walked in carrying a tray. 

"Here's some food." 

He placed it on the end of the bed. You looked at the sandwich, bag of chips, apple, and bottled water. He walked towards the door, but you stopped him. 

"Wait, are there any clothes I can have? I only have what I'm wearing..." you asked. 

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. 

"I'll see what I can come up with." He gave you a lame smile and left. 

An hour later, Steve came by with a bag of clothes for you. There were sweatpants, a few shirts, a random pair of flip flops, and shorts all too big for you, but you didn't care. You had no idea where he got any of it from, but you were grateful for a change. 

"Thanks." He took the empty tray from you and left, leaving you alone for the rest of the night, or should you say morning since it was already well past midnight.

🔫👨🏻

You didn't sleep much so the following morning you were awake and ready for whatever greeted you. After a quick shower, you chose a pair of black sweatpants and an oversize grey t-shirt from the bag Steve gave you. 

Your old clothes from the day before were folded and placed on a chair. You made the bed and tidied up the room for something to do when you heard the lock on your door click, then it opened, and a man you probably thought was Clint, stood there watching you. 

He motioned with his head to follow him, so you did and followed him down the long hallway, nerves on high alert. He brought you to a large, darkened office. 

"Sit." Clint gestured to a leather tufted chair that sat in front of an ornate desk. 

You passed a large cream coloured sectional sofa that faced a cozy looking fireplace with bookcases surrounding it. You looked around and noticed there was someone who was sitting in front of you in the shadows of the room. 

It was Bucky. He was glaring at Clint, and you. He wore his usual all black suit and scowl. He seemed completely put together, not a hair out of place or shirt creased or rumpled and was fresh like he got a solid 10 hours of sleep. Damn him. 

You cringed thinking you must look like a gremlin compared to him.

Someone brought a tray of food and plunked it on the desk. 

"Eat." Clint pointed to the tray and walked to the door to leave. 

You watched him leave when Sam and Steve walked in after him. They both were holding what looked to be breakfast wraps. 

"What are my clothes doing on her?" Bucky asked out loud. 

You looked down and your face turned red. You were wearing Bucky's clothes! Your head snapped up to Steve since he was the one who brought you the bag of clothes and he shrugged like it was no big deal you were wearing the mafia leaders' clothes. 

You wanted to melt away since flinging yourself out of the bullet proof windows wasn't an option. 

Sam looked at Steve with amusement in his eyes. 

"Needed something else to change into." Steve replied with a mouthful of wrap. 

"This isn't a fucking shopping mall. She should be dead yet you two are playing fucking dress up with her." Bucky glared at you making your insides shrivel. 

Steve flopped down on the chair that was next to you while Sam stretched out on the sofa. 

"Well, she's not, she's here and you should use her however you need to." Steve shrugged. 

Your face paled and you looked over at Bucky in pure fear who sighed and rubbed his fingers on his brow. 

"Not like that...we don't do that here." He whispered. 

Oh. Thank God. A mafia leader with a conscious. Lovely. 

You pushed your sarcastic thoughts aside and nibbled at your food.

Bucky typed on a laptop then he turned the screen towards you that had your company login page set up. 

"Login," was all he said.

 "How did...?" You blurted out but he only smirked back. 

"Ok..." You took the laptop and remotely logged into the company with your information. 

"Wh-what are you looking for?" 

Bucky rolled his eyes and took the laptop from you and started scrolling on it. Your login was linked to Mr. Rumlow's since you needed unlimited access to his information. Meetings, contacts, real estate, clients, it was all there as Bucky perused it. 

"Financials?" 

You hesitated to respond to Bucky. 

"There's another login for that. I don't think you can find..."

 Bucky typed again, and the banking system magically appeared. 

Again, you had access to it since you used the company cards a lot for Brock when he went out and needed to reconcile them. 

"I don't know what else I can give you" you said after logging into the site. 

You watched as Bucky took the laptop and started looking at it. 

"Wait, the cyber attack. That was you?" 

No one said anything but the looks that passed between the men said everything you needed to know.

Bucky scrolled his way around, but he stopped, frowning at the screen. 

"Who is this?" 

Bucky turned the monitor and pointed to a meeting scheduled for that night in the calendar. All it said was 'Pierce' and a time of 7pm. 

"Oh, just one of Mr. Rumlow's newest advisors. I've never met him though."

 You saw the look that passed between the men. According to some employee's gossip, Pierce had moved away to try to start a sister company somewhere in Europe, but was unsuccessful, so he returned. That was the story you were given but who knows what's real after what has transpired in the past 12 hours. Brock was also interested in partnering with him outside of his work, but you weren't sure what he did or how that partnership would look but you now had a better idea of what that would be. 

"Why?" 

Bucky was still scrolling, and Steve cleared his throat. 

"He's part of the trafficking too but we don't know how."

Bucky stopped and glared at Steve. "What? She knows..." 

"Too much." Bucky interrupted and looked at you, then went back to his computer.

"Are you going to that meeting with Pierce?" Sam asked from the couch. 

"More than likely." Bucky replied. 

You looked between the men. 

"She coming too?" Sam asked. 

Bucky didn't say anything, but he looked at Steve who you saw give him a slight nod. 

"We'll see. Take her back, I don't need her anymore." 

Bucky kept his eyes focused on the screen. You scowled at him and wanted to say something sassy, but you held your tongue. 

"Let's go." Sam got up from the couch and nodded towards the door with you following. 

You didn't notice Bucky's eyes move from the laptop to follow you when you left the room.

🔫👨🏻

"She's proving to be a valuable asset." Steve took out his knife and studied the blade in the dim light. 

Bucky grumbled something but kept scrolling. 

"With her access, we can take the rest of this shit down and take over the piers like we had planned." 

"She doesn't know anything about this life..." Bucky growled.

 "True, but she knows Rumlow's contacts, meetings, what his coming and goings were and company information. We may be closer to figuring out who his buyers are by using her. She doesn't have to know ALL the details, only what she knows now, and we can piece it altogether ourselves. I can tell you already found something with her logins." 

Steve played with his knife while Bucky shrugged and looked at his screen. 

Of course he found information. Contacts and addresses of the scum involved. He had Parker remote into his laptop and was working on it as they sat there. 

He paid Peter Parker a fuck ton of money to have the very best surveillance, and access to cameras, microphones, and any tech gear he needed. If something wasn't out they needed, Parker could make it himself. Bucky will more than likely have his men branch off and eliminate the buyers within 24-hours with confirmation from his tech team.

Sam walked back into the office and sat in the seat you were just in. 

"Buck here still wants to off his pretty house guest after he gets the info he needs from her." 

Bucky glared at his second in command. 

"Cool, cool, so when do you want to do that?" Sam asked. 

"We can take her out back at the gun range and shoot her execution style. Drown her in the pool? Slip some poison in her food? I'm sure Loki can come up with something more creative if you want..." Sam shrugged. 

"For fuck sakes Sam!" Bucky yelled. 

"Having second thoughts?" 

"Shut up!" 

Bucky scrolled through his computer. 

"Can we focus here? I'm having Parker trace some of these accounts and holding companies. In the meantime, I need to get her to come with me to the meeting with this Pierce person. No one knows Sitwell and Rumlow are dead or that I'm taking over." 

"Pierce know who you are?" 

"Who cares but he will soon." 

"You gotta get her some clothes Buck. She can't go to that dinner wearing your clothes." 

Bucky glared at Steve. He knows that. He didn't want to admit seeing you in his clothes stirred some things in him. 

"Get her whatever." Bucky waved to Steve. 

Steve looked at Sam who smirked. 

"Now, get the fuck out of here I'm done lookin' at you." Bucky sighed and typed away on his laptop.

🔫👨🏻

"What is all this?" You asked as Sam and Steve dropped off garment bags and boxes of clothes and shoes along with a full bag from Sephora. 

"Bossman says you're staying here until we no longer need you. Thought it be best to give you some clothes of your own." They both looked at you.

  No longer needed me. You gulped. 

"Did you go shopping for me?" 

You could have sworn both men blushed but all they did was shrug and leave, locking you in with your guard hawk on the other side.

"Fuckers." You mumbled and went to look at the clothes.

"Woah." You unzipped the garment bags and dug through them. Designer dresses, shirts, pants, shoes, and fancy accessories were strewn across your bed while you went through the pieces and held them up to examine. 

"How did they know my size?" You shuddered to think how. 

You carefully hung the clothes and put them away in the closet. The way you looked at it, if you were given clothes and the longer you helped them, they couldn't kill you. You had no idea how you could help them, but you were going to try since that meant staying alive. No way you going to die because of your deceased sketchy as hell boss. 

You shuddered thinking you were part of all this in someway but then you started to panic to your thoughts from the previous night. What if the authorities arrest you for aiding Brock? Your mind started whirling on the possibilities when a knock sounded at the door. 

It opened and you peeked your head out of the closet to see who it was.

"Be ready for 6pm. Dinner with Pierce. You're my new executive assistant. Congratulations on the promotion." Bucky stood in the doorframe of the bedroom. 

Was that a joke?

You were confused and shocked he was there and didn't send one of his goons to tell you this information and wondered why. He glanced at the pile of clothes on the bed and rolled his eyes. 

"Clean up that mess while you're at it. This isn't a pig sty." Then he turned to leave, with Clint locking the door after it shut.

🔫👨🏻

Bucky wandered the estate and came to the kitchen where he found Steve and Sam. 

"What the hell did you both do?" 

"What?" Sam looked over at him. 

"I said a few clothes, not the entire god damn store." 

Steve chuckled at his boss. 

"Who knows how long you plan on keeping her Buck. She's a chick and chicks need things." Steve shrugged. 

"How did you get her sizes?" 

"Had Loki break into her apartment and go through her things after Parker ran the background check on her. He said she's kind of a hermit; only ever had one overdue library book with a late fee she paid immediately. Minimal friends, no family, solid executive assistant too. Loki noticed some things and told us. He probably took some of her stuff for himself, you know how tricky Loki is." Steve shrugged and handed Bucky the file on you. 

Bucky snatched it, glaring at Sam and Steve before leaving to head to his office to learn all about his new assistant.

🔫👨🏻

"ClEaN uP tHaT MeSs." You mocked while hanging the rest of your new things. "Pompous asshole. Joke's on him, I wasn't even done." You muttered. 

The bed was now clear, and your new clothes were put away, not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. You still had Bucky's clothes, and you made sure to keep those separate, preferring to sleep and lounge in them since there wasn't anything comfortable in your new wardrobe. 

Do men still think women prance around in lingerie when they're at home alone? 

Ugh, men.

Bucky wouldn't mind though...not that he would find out what you sleep in... 

He would probably want that in a partner; someone to wear slinky lingerie for him and sit on his lap whenever he demanded it. Did he have a partner? Wife? A situationship? He seems single as do the other guys then you scolded yourself for thinking about their personal lives. You didn't want to befriend them if you were only a temporary situation.

You were grateful you had new clothes but were a little weirded out they had your exact measurements. While you were thinking about it, you were a lot weirded out since you were wondering who went shopping for your bras and underwear? 

Weird. 

The few times you've been out of your room, all you've seen are dudes, not a woman in sight. 

You had no idea how you could help seeing as how Pierce was new to Brock, but you will try your best if it means surviving.

🔫👨🏻

"We haven't got all night. Where is she?" Bucky grumbled. 

He stood waiting in the foyer with Sam and Steve on either side of him. Just as Sam was going to come and get you, you appeared on the staircase in front of Clint and walked down to meet them. Steve nudged Sam and they both looked up at you. 

Bucky looked to see what his men were watching at and he turned, looking at the stairs seeing you descend them. Bucky forced himself to look away and not watch your legs in those heels descend the staircase. 

He glanced at Sam and Steve who were gawking and he cleared his throat, glaring at his men who quicky averted their eyes from their unexpected house guest.

🔫👨🏻

Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip you thought while you descended the stairs. You wore heels and a black cocktail dress for this dinner meeting. Knowing where it was, you had to class yourself up for it, grateful you had a bag of goodies from Sephora. Your stomach was in knots with this dinner. You had no idea why you were going but you figured it was because of what you knew about Brock, but you were glad to get out of the mansion. 

"About time." Bucky mumbled. 

You glared at him and shrugged. Bucky's jaw ticked before he turned and took off out the door to the waiting SUV.

🔫👨🏻

You sat in the blacked-out SUV and fiddled with your fingers while you were driven to the restaurant. 

"Stop fidgeting." Came the deep voice of Bucky. He was on his phone and didn't look up from it. 

"I'm not." You boldly snarked back. You made a show of spreading your hands out on your thighs so he could see them. 

Damn, it was hard not to fiddle with your fingers, another habit you did when you were nervous.

He needed you for this meeting more than you needed him so you felt you could give him sass right back.

He looked over from his phone and grunted, then returned to it. 

Lovely. 

The SUV made its way into the city. 

"So, what are you having to eat?" You broke the awkward silence. 

Bucky didn't answer your question. You tended to ramble if you were nervous. 

"I'm torn between the steak or chicken myself, but I saw they had a cod dish people online have raved about." 

James sighed and whispered 'Jesus Christ' to himself before he shoved his phone in his suit jacket pocket, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. 

"What? You don't peruse restaurant menus online before visiting?" You gave him a side eye. 

"I don't have to." Came his reply. "Wait, where did you look at the menu? You don't have a phone." 

"I KNOW. Steve lent me his phone so I could plan my meal. i like to be prepared." 

"Of course he did." James sighed, leaning back against the head rest. 

"Well then Mr. Scary Fancypants. You're going to look like a dork when you can't figure out what you're going to have and we're all waiting for you to decide."

 "I think I can manage just fine." James snapped at you. 

You went to reply, but he held his hand up and said, "We're almost there so I need quiet to concentrate if you please." 

"Fine then." You huffed. 

You fiddled with your dress, not noticing the way James' eyes scanned your exposed legs and thighs.

James' jaw ticked at seeing the fabric rise, exposing your upper bare thighs when you moved. A part of his brain urged him to place his hand on your thigh and feel how warm and soft it was, but he held himself back. 

You were his hostage and when he was done with the information you could give him, well, he would have you eliminated. There was no room in his life for a fling with the informant, regardless of how pretty he thinks you are or how convenient it would be with your room down the hall from his own. 

He made a mental note to visit his club after this dinner. 

He was about to tell you to stop fidgeting when the SUV came to a stop outside the restaurant.

🔫👨🏻

Bucky placed his large hand on your lower back, guiding you to the table and a part of you wanted to curl into his warmth and the other part of you wanted to turn around and slap him. 

You made it to a table where an older man sat sipping an amber liquid in a short crystal glass. He looked up and his eyebrows rose, but he quickly composed himself. 

"Yes?" 

Bucky stood towering over the man. 

"Pierce." 

"Am I supposed to know you? Where's Brock?" He looked around for your deceased boss. 

Bucky pulled out your chair and helped you sit. 

"I'm James Barnes. Brock is no longer CEO. I've taken over." Bucky said. 

Pierce's eyes widened and he went to stand, but Bucky flashed his loaded holster in his jacket before he sat, making Pierce swallow and still. 

"Please, stay. I've heard the cod is good here." Bucky picked up the menu and looked it over. 

You had to hide a snort and did the same thing to keep yourself busy.

A waiter came by and Bucky ordered wine for you and water for himself. 

"And, who's this? Your woman?" Pierce pointed to you. 

You made a snort sound and saw Bucky's eyes flash at you before he calmly answered.

"She's here to take notes. You may remember seeing her copied in on emails from Brock since she was his assistant. She's mine now." 

Something about that statement made you fumble when you went to reach your wine glass and were thankful either men didn't notice.

Bucky placed the menu down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. You were handed a small tablet in the SUV, so you took it out and placed it on the table, looking like you were ready to record the meeting. 

"Now, what business do you have with Hydra Enterprises?" Bucky asked. 

Pierce shifted in his chair slightly. 

"I don't have to tell you anything. I answer to Brock..." 

"He's no longer here. I am. As the new CEO, it's my right to meet with all our associates and contractors. I'm sure Brock would agree." 

Pierce looked Bucky up and down but didn't say anything. He must have clued in to what Bucky had said.

The waiter came back to take your orders, so you ordered the chicken while Bucky ordered the cod and Pierce didn't order anything. 

You could tell he wanted to leave as soon as possible. 

"From my understanding, you were recently in Europe? Hydra doesn't have any offices there nor are they going to in the future. What were you really doing over there?" 

Pierce cleared his throat and shrugged at the question. 

The two men seeming to be in a standoff. You sat around and stared at each other. 

This was a pointless waste of time. 

"Um, from what I heard, Mr. Pierce, you were assisting Mr. Rumlow with expanding Hydra Enterprises by forming new divisions. Mr. Rumlow had told me a few weeks ago that your efforts were focused elsewhere and you should focus them here, at the Pier for the new shipping division of Hydra Enterprises." 

God, you felt like an idiot knowing NOW what that new 'shipping division' really is but you managed to stay composed. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you while Pierce scowled at you from across the table. 

"You know nothing, silly girl." 

"Watch it Pierce." Bucky growled. 

"From my understanding from being copied in on your last email correspondence, you had wanted to demolish the warehouses only to build new ones in their place. Mr. Rumlow reminded you those warehouses were perfectly fine in his last email. Why would you do that knowing it would cost the company millions and add construction time creating more delays?" You asked. 

The waiter came back and placed your plates down. Bucky slowly turned his head and watched you. 

"And for that matter, why would you insist on the sale be sped up at the site of the new pier, costing more in lawyer fees, building permits, and land transactions when Mr. Rumlow didn't approve of them in the first place? He had given you the money and approved the new build for a separate warehouse, but from what I saw in the last financial statement, no ground has been broken or permits filed, so where are those funds Brock gave you to manage?" 

Pierce was uncomfortable when he said, "This dinner is over. Congratulations on your promotion Barnes. I'm sure we'll see each other again." 

Pierce rose and buttoned his suit jacket. He turned and looked at you and said, "Give my regards to Brock." He smirked, then turned and left. 

Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest. 

The hell? 

Bucky picked up his cutlery and started eating.

 "The cod is good." He said, reaching for his water. 

This was the weirdest dinner you have ever been at. 

"So, that's it?" 

Bucky took a bite of the white fish and placed his cutlery down, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin. 

He looked over at you and said, "Yes." 

Then he proceeded to finish his dinner like nothing happened. 

Ok...

🔫👨🏻

"So, did you find anything new out?" Steve asked Bucky in his office. 

After you finished eating, you headed back to the mansion. You were escorted to your room and locked in with Clint guarding your door. 

Bucky, Sam, and Steve sat in the office. 

"Not really. Pierce seems like he was in on Brock's warehouse storage for the trafficking, but he's not connected directly to it, just for the land sale and new build at the pier. We've found out, he's just an associate. I've got guys trailing him and will inform me if he does anything. He'll be instantly eliminated if he steps out of line. I don't need to be associated to him."

 "How was Y/n?" Sam asked. 

Bucky's eyes darted to Sam. 

"She's fine." 

He didn't want to elaborate any further. He was surprised at your knowledge and the directness of your questions to a man like Pierce. He was pleased you didn't cower and clam up. 

Perhaps you would be useful to him throughout this process.

Steve watched his boss, then he looked over at Sam who was smirking from his chair, but they didn't dare say anything. 

"Cool. Good to know." Sam nodded, pleased with himself for following his gut feeling about you. 

"Well, I'm headed out." Sam rose and Steve followed.

 "I've got eyes on the pier. You may want to check-in with Parker tomorrow and get the blueprints and security logs. According to the documents, a shipment is scheduled in a few days. I'll need you both down there observing." 

"You don't want us to go in and dismantle the operation? I can have a team ready in half an hour." 

"Not yet. I need to learn a little about the people involved first. From the financials Parker found with Y/n's login, there are a lot of investigations to do but Parker and his team is on it. When word gets out soon that Brock and Sitwell have been eliminated, then it's go-time for us." 

"Fair enough." Steve shrugged before they left the office.

Bucky rocked back in his chair and sighed, running a hand over his neck. 

He was in for a long night forgoing his earlier plan to visit his club. He wanted to work on formulating a plan and learn everything he can about his new personal assistant. 

Something tells him, you're going to be his biggest asset, but he's not yet sure how.

🔫👨🏻🔫👨🏻🔫👨🏻🔫👨🏻🔫👨🏻

[aquaticmercy]

One Day at A Time

Summary : Despite not being able to get drunk, Bucky goes to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and meets you. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : meet cute? alcohol addiction and recovery, AA meetings, relapse, cravings, mentions of trauma, brief mention of violence, hurt/comfort, flangst, emotional support, brief mention of food. I think this would be set around FATWS time. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count : 7.1k

Note : As someone who struggles with substance abuse and is now four years sober, this one is special to me. Enjoy!

The first thing you noticed about Bucky Barnes was that he looked like he had already decided to leave.

He walked into the church basement, shoulders broad enough to make the folding chair look like it was gonna collapse at any point during the meeting, one gloved hand wrapped around a paper cup of coffee he didn’t seem to have drunk yet. He wore a baseball cap, a jacket too thick for the weather, and the smile of someone who had survived the end of the world only to be defeated by fluorescent lighting.

You noticed because you were looking at the door,  debating whether or not to leave.

You did consider running out and sobbing into the sidewalk, but that seemed overdramatic. So maybe you should just laugh nervously and say you forgot to feed your nonexistent cat. For whatever reason, though, you remained, knee bouncing, palms sweating. Your mouth tasted like pennies. Every time someone said “one day at a time,” your brain whispered, sure, but there are so many fucking days.

The circle was small, just ten people. Twelve if you counted the man asleep near the radiator and an elderly woman named Marie, who was knitting. The coffee was bad and the biscuits were stale. The walls were decorated with cheerful little posters about honesty and surrender and hope, which made you want to peel your skin off because honesty was hard, surrender sounded humiliating, and hope felt like a last resort people offered you when they had run out of practical advice.

Then the chair beside you scraped.

You looked over.

The man at the door had now approached you. 

Up close, he looked simultaneously worse and prettier, too, which was annoying. He looked tired, probably not attributed to a single bad night but to years stacked inside him. He had clear blue eyes and dark stubble. His left hand stayed in his pocket. His right hand still held the coffee like a prop.

“Seat taken?” he asked.

You blinked at the twenty empty chairs around the circle. “No,” you said.

He managed a smile before you sighed and moved your bag.

He sat down.

Neither of you really spoke for the rest of the sharing. A man named Dennis talked about hiding vodka in a mouthwash bottle. Marie talked about walking past the same liquor store six times and going home crying but sober. Someone laughed and another cried. The last person said they were ninety days clean and the room clapped.

You clapped too, but it was a second late.

The man beside you didn’t clap. He looked at his hand instead, like he had forgotten what applause was for.

When the meeting leader asked if anyone new wanted to introduce themselves, the room went quiet in that gentle, expectant way that made you want to crawl into the carpet.

You stared at your shoes.

The man beside you exhaled.

“I’m James,” he said.

Every head turned.

His voice was rough around the edges. He sounded like he was confessing a crime instead of a name.

“Hi, James,” the room said.

His jaw flexed. He hated that. You could tell immediately. 

He looked down at his coffee. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here.”

Nobody interrupted. Nobody corrected him.

His thumb rubbed once over the rim of the paper cup. “I can’t get drunk.”

Your eyes flicked to him.

He said it like a punchline without the mercy of being funny.

“I used to be able to, a long time ago.” His mouth tightened into a flat line. “Then things changed, and my body changed. And now alcohol doesn’t do anything,” he looked down, almost disappointed in how much he was disappointed by his own inability to get buzzed. “I can drink the bar dry and still feel every second of my life perfectly.”

You stopped breathing a little.

“It made me angry,” he admitted, quieter. “I was angry I couldn’t have that. I never cared about fun or the parties.” He gave a humourless laugh. “I wanted the off switch, and when it didn’t work, I hated myself. I hated that that has been taken from me.”

Something in your chest folded. Which one was he? Was your first shameful thought. In a world of superheroes and gods and aliens and people disappearing for five years and then coming back, you really didn’t have the time to memorise names of every Avenger by heart. 

His eyes stayed down.

“So, no. I don’t know if I count. I don’t know if this is taking up space from people who need it more. But I know I keep thinking about it, keep trying to find something that’ll do what it used to do. And I know that probably means I shouldn’t be alone with the thought.”

Then Marie, still knitting, said, “You count.”

James looked up.

The meeting leader nodded. “You’re welcome here.”

You felt a little sting behind your eyes.

Fuck, it shouldn’t have been that moving. It should not have mattered that much. He was a stranger in a church basement with untouched coffee and a voice like a bruise. But there was something so painfully familiar about wanting oblivion and being ashamed of wanting it, about standing at the edge of yourself and wishing there was a button, a bottle, a burn, anything that made being alive more bearable.

The meeting moved on, and you decided not to speak.

You were proud of not crying until the end, when everyone stood and started stacking chairs. People exchanged numbers while stirring powdered creamer into coffee. The world did not change. Nobody looked at you and said, we know what you are, or pointed at your throat and said, liar.

You grabbed your coat and made it halfway to the stairs before his voice found you.

“Hey.” James stood a few feet behind you, hands still in his pockets.

You considered pretending you hadn’t heard him. Maybe you could be rude. You considered leaving and buying the smallest bottle you could find and telling yourself it didn’t count because it was only small

Instead, you said, “What?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

You winced. “Sorry. That came out mean.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve heard meaner.”

For some reason, that made you almost smile.

He stepped closer, careful like you were a wounded animal that might bolt. “First meeting?”

You looked at the stairs. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” he said.

You huffed. “Great.”

“I’m new too.”

“I know,” you chuckled dryly, “you spoke.”

“Yeah.”

“I would rather be shot.”

He looked at you for one long second. Very dryly, he said, “It’s overrated.”

A startled laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and his gaze brightened so subtly you almost missed it.

You leaned against the stair rail, suddenly too tired to keep standing like a real person. “I’m not like you.”

James tilted his head.

Your fingers tightened around your coat. “It works on me.”

His face changed, eyes more attentive than just pity.  

You swallowed. “It works too well on me.”

You didn’t know why you said that, but you hated how small your voice got. You hated how much the truth could make you feel naked, and saying it out loud made your whole body ache for a drink with such vicious clarity that you had to grip the rail harder.

James didn’t look away.

You laughed once, but it broke wrong. “You wanted the off switch, I get that. But mine works fast. It works so well that I start thinking maybe I’m only good when I’m drinking. I think maybe the best version of me is the one that can’t feel anything. Or remember anything. Or ruin anything because I’m not really there.”

His teeth clenched, but he stayed quiet.

“And then I get sober,” you said, unable to stop baring your soul to this stranger. “And everything is worse.”

Your eyes burned. You looked down immediately, furious at yourself.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because I told you first,” he said.

Your throat tightened more.

He shifted his weight, and for the first time, you noticed the way he held his left side still, like he was always aware of the space his body took up. He looked like he had spent a long time making himself smaller for other people’s comfort and had never quite learned how to stop.

“I’m Bucky,” he said.

You blinked. “I thought you said James.”

“I did.”

“So you lied at AA?”

His mouth twitched again. “James is my name.”

“So Bucky is what?” You managed a chuckle, “A nickname?”

“To some people.”

“Do you like those people?”

He paused, before looking down, “I’m trying to.”

You looked at him properly, at the tired eyes, the gloved hand, the too-perfect posture. You could see grief sitting on him like a cloud. You didn't know him or his life, but you knew enough about wanting to be someone else. 

You gave him your name.

He repeated it once, like he was trying to get it right.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Behind him, the meeting leader laughed with Marie near the coffee table as someone dragged a bin bag out of the kitchen. The basement smelled like burnt coffee, wet coats, old wood, and the possibility that maybe you could come back here. 

Maybe this terrible room could exist again next week. Maybe you could still exist next week

Bucky nodded toward the door. “You got somewhere to be?”

You almost lied, but you shook your head.

“Me neither,” he said. “There’s a diner around the corner. Coffee’s bad, but it’s not this bad.”

“You asking me out?” You tilted your head.

He just shrugged, as if duh. Why wouldn’t I want to ask out the pretty girl who’s also struggling with life, like me? “Yeah. I mostly like the pie.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind?”

“I don’t know. Pie kind.”

You managed a smile. “That is such a man answer.”

He looked vaguely offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

And there it was again, your accidental laugh. You could feel him noticing it, not in a smug way, but like he was relieved there was a sound in you that was not pain.

You should have said no and gone home.

You should have taken the bus and white-knuckled your way through the evening and called it a victory if you made it to bed without stopping at the shop on the corner.

But Bucky stood in front of you like a man who understood the shape of a craving, even if his body refused to let him drown in it. 

You were opposite tragedies meeting in the basement.

And you didn’t want to be alone.

Same terrible coffee.

So you pulled your coat on properly and said, “Fine. But if the pie is bad, I’m leaving you there.”

Bucky smiled and climbed up the stairs next to you, opening the door like a true gentleman, because apparently your standards were that low.

Cold evening air rushed in, and he said, “Fair.”

You stepped outside together.

For the first time all day, feeling sober didn’t feel like a punishment.

Bucky fell into step beside you, close enough to be there, far enough away to be respectful, and when your hands shook in your coat pockets, he pretended not to notice.

You loved him a little for that.

Not love-love. Just the strangest beginning of it.

—

A year later, you were sitting in the same basement where you met him.

The church still smelled faintly of old wood, overbrewed coffee, rain-damp coats, and whatever industrial cleaner someone used on the floor every Tuesday evening. The chairs were arranged in the same uneven circle as always, but there were more rows now. Nobody here had ever managed to make a circle properly, and maybe that was appropriate. Recovery was not exactly known for pretty geometry.

You sat three chairs away from the radiator now.

Now your coat was folded over your lap. Your coffee was cooling between your palms. Your breathing was almost steady.

The dog tags around your neck shifted when you leaned forward.

You saw them slip out from beneath your sweater, the familiar feeling of them falling against your chest, warm from your skin. They caught the basement light for a second, dull silver flashing against the knit you were wearing, and the man beside you noticed.

He was new, you could tell.

New people had a look to them. Sometimes it was fear or anger. This man was sitting with his shoulders held too high and his hands wrapped too tightly around his cup, staring at everything except the people in the room.

His eyes flicked to the tags.

“You serve?” he asked.

You looked down.

For one stupid second, your fingers closed over the metal before you could stop yourself. “No,” you said. “My boyfriend did.”

The man nodded, still looking at the chain. “Oh.”

“They’re his,” you added, tucking them back beneath your collar as if you had been caught showing a memory too intimate. “He gives them to me while he’s away at work.”

“At work?”

“Yeah.”

You managed to say it with a straight face, which was honestly heroic of you, considering Bucky’s “work” very rarely involved conferences or meeting rooms. His work included Captain America showing up at your apartment three days ago with that charming, apologetic smile that always meant, I’m very sorry, but I’m about to borrow your boyfriend for a classified and incredibly stupid mission.

You had rolled your eyes, and Sam did have the decency to bring him back in one piece

You looked down and added, “it’s for safekeeping.”

After all, that was what Bucky called it too.

He had stood in your kitchen two mornings ago with his duffel bag by the door and his boots not quite tied, looking too handsome for a man who was leaving you for a couple of days. His hair had still been damp from the shower, tucked behind one ear, darkening the collar of his shirt. He smelled like soap and coffee and the lavender shampoo you bought for yourself, which he continued to deny using even though you told him he could. He had been quiet all morning.

He washed his mug even though you told him to leave it. He checked the lock on the window he had already fixed months ago. Eventually, he found you by the counter when you were pretending to look for something in a drawer you had already opened twice. His hands came to your waist from behind, and he folded himself around you without a word. His chest pressed to your back, chin resting against your shoulder. For a minute, he simply held you there in the kitchen, reluctant to leave.

You covered his hands with yours.

“You’re doing the clingy thing,” you murmured, not at all complaining.

His mouth pressed to the side of your throat, not a kiss at first. Then he did kiss you, his stubble rubbing against your skin.

“Maybe I just like holding my girl before work,” he said.

“Work,” you repeated, dryly, “As if you’re dealing with team building exercises and doing trust falls with Captain America.”

“I would rather be shot.”

“Bucky.”

“What? I’ve been shot before.”

“You’re banned from making those jokes before nine in the morning.”

He hummed, amused, and turned you in his arms so your back was against the counter and he could look at you properly.

His thumbs slipped under the hem of your sweater, just enough to touch skin. The intimacy of it made your chest ache. You had lived with him, slept beside him, showered with him, kissed him breathless against this exact counter, and still there were moments where his hands on you felt new.

He bent his head and kissed you.

It was meant to be a goodbye kiss. It became sweeter, heavier. His body pressed yours into the counter, careful of his strength even when the kiss deepened and your hands found his hair. He made a sound when you tugged, more breath than voice.

“You’re going to be late,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Probably.”

“Very professional.”

“Never claimed to be.”

His metal hand stayed at your waist. His right hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as if he could smooth the worry out of your face. He kissed you once more, lingering, then pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ll call when I can,” he said.

“I know.”

“Marie has your number?”

“Yes.”

“Food in the fridge?”

“Yes.”

His eyes searched yours. “You’ll eat?”

“Bucky.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly at his worry. 

You wanted to tease him more, because that was easier than saying please don’t go. So your fingers tightened in the front of his shirt.

Bucky took the dog tags from beneath his own shirt and lifted the chain over his head. Your throat tightened before he even touched you. “Buck.”

His eyes softened at the name.

It still did that to him, even after a year.

Buck.

You had been saying it for a while now. At first by accident, then on purpose, then so often it became part of your life. You said Buck when you needed him to pass you a mug from the high shelf, a whiny Buck when he stole your side of the bed and pretended he hadn’t. You had gasped Buck when you woke up from a dream with your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest. 

The name had started in the diner, if you were honest.

That first night after AA, when he took you for pie because neither of you were ready to go home alone. Bucky had sat across from you with the menu in both hands, frowning at the pie section as though it was a tactical document.

You had not known yet whether you were allowed to joke with him. Whether he would flinch or he would shut down. 

“I remember it being less confusing than this,” he said. “There’s too many options now.”

It would take him three months to admit the last time he had pie there was 1944.

You lifted your eyebrows. “You’re panicking.”

“I’m assessing my options.”

“You’ve been looking at the word ‘cherry’ for almost a full minute.”

He had looked back down, gravely. “Maybe I like cherry.”

You squinted, then decided. “You don’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You managed a smile.“I know everything.”

That was the first time he smiled at you properly, and it changed his whole face.

You remembered staring at him across that sticky table and thinking, oh, that is pretty.

Later, he walked you home in the rain.

He didn’t ask if he could or assume he should. He just stood beside you outside the diner, hands in his jacket pockets, and said, “I’m going this way.” and it just happened to be the same as where you were going.

So you let him walk you home.

A week later, he saved you a seat. A month later, he was going out for coffee with you every other day. Two months later, he fixed your broken window latch and stayed for dinner.

Four months later, he kissed you in a supermarket car park because you had called him crying from the frozen food aisle after the shop rearranged itself and put the wine where the pizzas used to be. He had come so quickly you were sure he must have run part of the way. He found you with your basket on the floor and your hands shaking, and he stood between you and the aisle like his body could block out the whole world.

You cried because you wanted a drink. Then you cried because he came. Then you cried because he looked at you like none of it made you difficult to love.

He kissed you after he got you outside, so gently, his hands hovering until you grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, like he had been waiting months to be allowed to want you like this. 

After that, Bucky became yours all at once.

Your meetings became his meetings, and his nightmares became your 3 a.m. tea in the kitchen. Your cravings became walks around the block with his metal hand at the back of your neck. Your bad days became less lonely. 

There were mornings where you woke up with his face buried against your stomach, one arm heavy across your hips, his hair a disaster against your bare skin. There were evenings where he cooked badly and you ate it anyway because he looked so proud and because he kissed the back of your shoulder while you washed the dishes. There were nights where the two of you ended up tangled on the sofa with a film neither of you watched, his mouth moving slowly along your neck while your fingers slid under his shirt, both of you laughing between kisses.

It wasn’talways easy, but it was worth it.

So when he gave you the tags, standing in your kitchen with the mission waiting downstairs, it seemed like a little too much.

He slipped the chain over your head. The tags settled against your chest, cool for half a second before your skin warmed them.

“For safekeeping,” he said.

You tried to smile. “They’re metal, Buck. I think they’ll survive your l work trip.”

His thumb touched the chain. “It’s not about them surviving.”

You looked up at him.

His voice dropped. “It’s about me coming back for them.”

Oh.

Bucky kissed your forehead, then your mouth, then the corner of your mouth when you tried not to cry. He was so careful with you when he left, like one wrong touch would make both of you admit how much you hated this. He’d been gone for daytrips before, but four days seemed unbearable now.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Then he kissed you again, and for a few seconds you forgot the whole world beyond his mouth. His hands were firm at your waist, yours around his neck, the tags caught between you. He kissed you until you were breathless and clinging, until Sam honked downstairs and Bucky muttered something unflattering about him under his breath against your lips.

You laughed. He kissed the laugh out of your mouth.

Then he left.

At first, you were fine.

You made breakfast, answered messages, and washed the mug Bucky had already washed, only because it gave your hands something to do. You wore the tags beneath your sweater and touched them whenever you passed the mirror. You went to work and came home. Then ate leftovers standing in the kitchen.

The first night without him was always strange. Then the hours stretched.

The refrigerator hummed too loudly. The upstairs neighbour moved around too much. Your phone stayed blank for too long, and every time it lit up and it wasn't him, disappointment scraped through and you felt childish.

You watched half a film and absorbed none of it.

You opened the fridge, then closed it. Opened the cupboard, then closed it.

Checked your phone, no message.

The next day was the same.

By nine, you were bored. By nine-thirty, you were restless. By ten, your mind had started to tilt.

It was jarring how quickly it happened. No one warned you about it properly, or maybe they did and you had not believed them, but the craving arrived out of nowhere because you were bored. 

You were putting away a clean plate when you thought about the shop on the corner. Then you were gripping the counter so hard your fingers hurt.

You are alone. You are bored.

Nobody would know.

The tags felt too heavy. You pulled them out from beneath your sweater and held them in your hand, the chain slipping between your fingers. Bucky’s name was pressed into your palm, and you stared at it until the letters blurred.

“I’m fine,” you said out loud.

Your voice sounded odd in the empty kitchen.

You put the tags back under your sweater and changed into pyjamas. You brushed your teeth and got into bed. Five minutes later, you got out of bed. You checked your phone. You opened your messages with Bucky and looked at the last thing he sent before takeoff: Be good to yourself for me.

You threw the phone onto the bed.

Then, somehow, you were putting on shoes.

When you thought about it later, that felt frightening, how blank you were. It wasn’t exactly a blackout, because you remembered every moment, but there was a strange sequence to it, as if your body had become a machine built for one purpose: Shoes, coat, keys, stairs, and corner shop.

The bell above the door rang. You told yourself you were buying milk.

You did buy milk. In fact, you carried it to the counter with both hands like evidence of innocence, and then your eyes moved to the tiny bottles behind the register. 

You could leave. You should leave.

You heard yourself ask for one.

The man behind the counter reached back.

You almost said, nevermind. You didn’t.

The bottle was cold when he passed it to you, but it was small enough for your brain to start building arguments before you even reached the door.

It’s little. It’s one. It’s not like before. I have been good for a year. I can stop after this. I just want to know I can.

The walk home felt unreal as the milk knocked against your leg. 

At your door, your hands shook so badly you dropped your keys. you put the milk in the fridge and took the bottle out.

You placed it on the kitchen counter.

You stared at it.

Then you walked away. Then you came back. Then you picked it up. Then you put it down again.

Your whole body was hot and cold at once. Your thoughts were moving too quickly to hold. Bucky’s dog tags rested against your chest beneath your sweater, and you kept touching them, pressing them hard into your skin as if it could bring willpower.

“I won’t drink it,” you whispered.

Then you opened it.

Then you drank.

And alcohol worked on you with humiliating ease. It hit your empty stomach like warmth pretending to be mercy. For a few minutes, missing Bucky became manageable. You stood in your kitchen with the bottle empty in your hand and hated how much relief you felt

Then the relief curdled into horror. Your stomach dropped and skin prickled. The empty bottle looked terrifying in your hand, stupid and catastrophic. You sank to the kitchen floor.

The tiles were cold beneath your thighs. The dog tags swung forward when you bent over, clinking once against the empty bottle still in your fist.

You cried with your whole body, in ugly, breathless sobs that hurt your ribs and scraped your throat. 

You almost called him. You saw your hand reach for the phone.

Then you saw him in your mind, answering because he would always answer if he could. You imagined his face changing when he heard your voice, hearing the guilt he would somehow make his own, because Bucky had never met your pain he didn’t try to carry.

You couldn’t do it.

You rinsed the bottle instead. You stood at the sink with the water running and realised what you were doing and hated yourself so violently you had to grip the counter again.

Evidence.

You were rinsing evidence. You were going to get rid of it, as if this was something to hide from a parent or a teacher or a boyfriend.

You threw the bottle in the bin. Then you took it out. Then you put it back in. Then you sat on the floor until the kitchen light started to feel too bright.

You didn't sleep. Or if you did, it was full of waking.

By morning, your mouth tasted sour and your eyes were swollen.

By night, you were in the basement, a year later.

Marie was talking about her daughter’s wedding. She had her knitting in her lap, a pale yellow scarf growing slowly between her hands, and she was describing the open bar with a detail that made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

Usually, Marie made you feel safe. Tonight, she talked about champagne flutes, toasts, ginger ale, and smiling for the photos. 

The dog tags were hot against your chest.

You shifted in your chair.

The new man beside you was staring at his coffee again. The meeting leader nodded gently as Marie finished.

“Thank you, Marie.”

Everyone said thanks, and the leader looked around the circle.

“Anyone else?”

You stared at the floor. No.

Your heart began to pound so hard you felt it in your throat.

No, no, no.

Still, apparently your body was on autopilot now, because you opened your mouth before you were ready. “I’m—”

Your voice broke so bad that several heads turned at once.

You stopped as heat rushed into your face. You said your name.

The room answered, like it always did.

You could not look at anyone. You looked at your coffee instead, at the small tremors moving across the surface.

“My boyfriend and I met here,” you said, and the words came out thin.

You swallowed hard and tried again.

“My boyfriend and I met here. In this room.” Your thumb moved over the raised letters stamped into the tags beneath your sweater. 

Your breath hitched.

“He doesn’t know I drank last night because he’s away.”

The basement seemed to go still around you.

You let out a broken little laugh that was barely laughter at all. “I was just bored and spiralling and I…” You shook your head, tears spilling hot down your cheeks now, impossible to stop. “I got a little bottle.”

Your fingers curled around the tags.

“It was only a little.”

You knew better than anyone that it never was a little.

—

After the meeting, you cried into Marie’s shoulder in the church hallway until your throat hurt.

You wished you had done it in a dignified way when other people were trying to help you. You cried with your whole face pressed into her cardigan, both hands in the wool while she held the back of your head and kept murmuring, “Oh, sweetheart,” like you hadn’t done something unforgivable, as if you were not disgusting. As if you were just a person who had fallen and was still, somehow, worth helping back up.

She didn’t tell you it was fine.

She only walked you around the block twice in the cold, one arm linked through yours, talking gently about calling Bucky, about honesty, about how a slip didn’t get to eat the whole year unless you fed it the rest yourself.

By the time you got home, you were almost an hour late.

Your eyes were swollen and your face felt tight from drying tears. Bucky’s dog tags were still tucked under your sweater, pressing against your chest.

You opened the door, expecting darkness.

Instead, the kitchen light was on.

Bucky turned from the counter.

He was still in grey sweats, hair damp from a shower he had clearly taken too quickly. There was a smear of frosting on his thumb, and on the counter beside him sat a small, lopsided cake from the grocery store, with too much white icing and little piped flowers around the edge.

Across the top, in blue gel writing, slightly uneven and very obviously done by him, were the words:

ONE YEAR!

Your body went cold.

Was it supposed to be the one year anniversary today? You… hadn’t been counting. Your boyfriend, had, apparently

Bucky’s whole face lit up when he saw you.

“Mission got called short,” he said, so proud and so happy it hurt to look at him. “Happy one year sober, sweetheart.”

You stared at the cake.

The keys were still in your hand. Your coat was still on. You didn’t move, didn’t blink properly, didn’t breathe right.

Bucky kept smiling for a few seconds, but then his smile faltered. “Baby?”

You couldn’t answer as  blue icing blurred in front of you.

Three full minutes passed, maybe less, maybe more, you didn’t know. You only knew that you spent every second of them staring at that little cake like it had been made for someone who had died last night.

You didn’t even realise Bucky had been walking towards you. 

One moment, he was standing behind the little cake, his smile slowly disappearing as he watched you fail to answer him. The next, his hands were on you.

You flinched so hard the keys slipped from your fingers and hit the floor, but Bucky didn’t let go. His flesh hand closed gently around your upper arm while his metal one came to your face.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Hey, look at me.”

You couldn’t. You stared somewhere around his shoulder instead, hardly aware of his thumb brushing beneath your eye, wiping away a tear you hadn’t felt fall.

His eyes moved across your face with alarm. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head.

“Did something happen today?”

You shook your head again

“Did someone touch you?”

“No,” you managed, but the word was barely there.

Bucky’s shoulders loosened by a bit, but the worry certainly didn't leave his face. His eyes dropped quickly over you anyway, ever so aware of blood, bruises, torn fabric, any danger. There was none.

Bucky looked over his shoulder at it, then back at you.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what he understood. Maybe he thought the anniversary had overwhelmed you, or maybe he thought you were crying because he had remembered, maybe he thought you were happy.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck. He drew you closer, slow enough that you could have resisted, but you didn't understand what he was doing until your forehead struck his chest and his arms folded around you.

Bucky cradled you against him, metal hand across the back of your coat. His other arm wrapped around your head, his palm cupping your skull as he tucked your face beneath his chin.

You stood stiffly inside his embrace, hearing his heartbeat as your hands remained hanging uselessly at your sides.

Bucky rubbed his palm over your back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t, and he had no idea.

You couldn’t seem to pull enough air into your lungs. Every breath caught halfway, and your body refused to complete it. Bucky must have felt the change because his grip tightened, holding you together while your knees began to feel like cooked spaghetti.

“Easy,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Your fingers finally curled into the front of his shirt. You clutched him with both hands as if the floor had opened beneath you and he was the only thing left at the edge.

Bucky bent with you when you folded.

He lowered you both to the kitchen floor without ever taking his arms away, one knee touching the tile before he settled against the cabinets and pulled you fully into his lap.

A sound finally came out of you. “I-I’m sorry.”

Bucky startled, but only for a second.

You buried your face against his throat, the apology coming again before you could breathe. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh.”

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’m sorry—”

“Shh, sweetheart.”

He held the back of your head while you began to sob. There was no dignity left in it now. You cried so violently that your body jerked against his, words breaking apart between gasps while Bucky gathered you closer. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I ruined it.”

Bucky’s hand paused against your hair.

You felt the second he understood that this wasn’t an overwhelmed anniversary reaction. “What happened?” he asked.

You shook your head against him.

His lips pressed to your temple. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” you hiccupped, “You’ll hate me.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you. His hand remained behind your neck, supporting your head when you tried to turn away. The excitement was gone, but fear remained.

“I won’t,” he said.

“You don’t know.”

“I know I won’t hate you.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You talked before you could think. “You were gone, and I—”

Your voice collapsed. Bucky waited, one arm around your waist, his thumb moving through the damp hair at your neck, while you tried to force the words past the pressure closing your throat.

“I drank.”

It came out abruptly. 

Bucky went still beneath you.

“Last night,” you gasped. “I bought one of the little bottles and I drank it. I drank the whole thing.” The confession tore itself out of you all at once. “I rinsed the bottle. I was going to hide it from you.”

Bucky’s face changed, but instead of disgust, it was recognition.

He knew how a craving could take over your body. He knew what it was to want an off switch badly enough to hate yourself for reaching for it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

You recoiled inside his arms. “No, it’s really not.”

“It’s okay.” His hand tightened against the back of your head. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I ruined the whole year—”

“No.”

He didn't need the details explained to him. He understood every humiliating little ritual because addiction had taught him the same language, even if his body no longer let alcohol answer him.

“I wore your tags,” you choked out. “While I did it.”

Your hand flew to your chest, gripping the metal through your sweater hard enough for its edges to bite into your palm.

Bucky caught your wrist. “Don’t.”

“I shouldn’t have them.”

He gently pulled your hand away from your chest, but he didn’t take the tags. He only folded your fingers around them more carefully, covering your fist with his own.

“I didn’t keep anything safe,” you managed.

Bucky dragged you back against him before you could see more, tucking your face beneath his chin. His palm spread across your back as you broke open in his lap.

“It’s okay,” he repeated into your hair. “It’s okay.”

You shook your head violently, and he kissed your temple.

It’s not that what happened did not matter. It did. You both knew it did.

But he knew what you were convinced of: the certainty that one mistake had poisoned everything that came before it, insisting that because you had fallen once, you might as well stay on the floor.

Bucky knew better than to let that voice speak alone.

“You should be angry.”

His arms tightened, pressing his face against your hair and breathing through it.

“I should’ve called you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You should’ve.”

You flinched.

Bucky immediately drew back enough to cradle your face between his hands. “But I know why you didn’t.”

His thumbs moved beneath your eyes, wiping away tears that were replaced almost immediately.

He knew what shame did, and how it convinced you isolation felt like mercy.

“I thought you’d hate me.”

He shook his head. “Never.”

It was the only reassurance he gave you because it was the only one you could believe.

Bucky pulled you against him again and let you cry until there was nothing graceful left in your chest. He held you through every shaking breath, his mouth pressed to your hair, murmuring the same words whenever your apologies started again.

It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.

Eventually, the strength went out of your body. You sagged against him, exhausted, your fingers still trapped around the dog tags between your palm and his.

Bucky stayed on the kitchen floor with you until your breathing slowed.

Then he carefully shifted you from his lap and stood, bringing you with him. Your knees nearly folded, but his hands were already at your waist, holding you upright before you could fall.

“Go shower,” he said.

You frowned. “What?”

“Go take a shower,” he repeated kindly. “Put on something comfortable. I’ll make tea.”

You stared at him when his hand slid around the back of your neck, drawing you forward until his forehead rested against yours.

“I’m gonna be here when you come back,” he said.

“You promise?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to leave?”

“No.”

“You’re not going to throw the cake away?”

His eyes flicked toward it.

“No,” he said after a moment. You nodded, though you didn’t entirely believe him.

Bucky kissed your forehead and let you go.

—

The shower took longer than it should have. You stood beneath the water until it ran lukewarm, scrubbing the dried tears from your face, replaying the conversation again and again until it turned into comfort.

When you eventually returned to the kitchen, wearing Bucky’s shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms, two mugs of tea sat on the table.

Bucky was standing over the cake with a butter knife in his hand and an expression of intense concentration usually reserved for dismantling weapons.

You stopped in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at you, then back at the cake.

The blue icing was a mess.

Bucky had scraped away most of the word YEAR. There were deep trenches in the white frosting where he had smushed the letters together, dragging the gel across the surface with very little artistic skill.

ONE YEAR! had become:

ONE DAY!

The exclamation point was still there, slightly crooked.

You stared at it.

Bucky put down the knife.

“I figured we celebrate this instead,” he said.

Your throat closed. “One day?”

He shrugged, suddenly looking uncertain. “That’s what they say, right?”

One day at a time.

But there were so many fucking days.

But there was only this one now.

You managed to walk yourself to the kitchen and threw yourself into his arms.

Bucky caught you, his arms closing around your body. You buried your face against his chest while he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m still proud of you,” he whispered.

You shook your head.

His hand moved down your back. “That’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

Later, he cut two uneven slices.

The cake was too sweet, the tea had gone cold, and the blue icing stained your tongues. Bucky sat beside you, his thigh pressed against yours and his metal hand resting open on the table.

When midnight passed, his fingers closed gently around yours.

One day.

You had made it through one day.

—end. 

General Bucky taglist pt 1:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant  @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault @average-vibe @winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @boy--wonder--187 @scariusaquarius @reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida @buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22 @torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire @hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko @lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat @shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot @helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess @samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

[aquaticmercy]

Reblog for General Bucky taglist pt 2:

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst @wingstoyourdreams @lori19

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23 @fan4astic

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt @softpia 

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy @buckybarneswife125

@imaginecrushes @phoenixes-and-wizards @rowanthomasknapp @daystarpoet @thefandomplace

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@badl4nder @natalia42069 @silverdoragon @juliet-is-the-sun12 @nightlight486

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@yn-stories-are-my-life @ahrahrahraha @erina00 @maybeafaerie @smorgasbrods @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine

[gremlin-girly]

Swooning Season

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x lady-in-waiting! Reader

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Tags/warnings: Bucky being an idiot, Bucky being a romantic, fluff

Summary: When Prince Rogers and your Lady begin courting officially, you're forced to be close to the man you hate most: Bucky.

Word count:1.8k

A/N: This was originally going to be in Flufftober but I changed it last minute. For anyone remembers this Steve fic, yeah... enjoy the inspiration!

Bucky Masterlist | Navigation

'Twas swooning season, apparently.

Your face is set like stone as you stroll behind your lady, who is deep in conversation and light laughter with the Prince of Angieon; Steve Rogers. Although you know your lady is not prone to fainting, nor does she hold much stead in pathetic courting rituals; she has still brought her fan with her, and occasionally flutters it - prompting the prince's cheeks to go pink each time.

Whatever fan-signal she sends her husband-to-be works - because the prince seems ready to swoon at her feet. However, just as you make a mental note to tease her for it later, an annoying sound pierces your ears and you're forced to glance to your left.

Bucky, the prince's knight and best friend, was attempting to make small talk again.

"It's a lovely day for a walk." He says flexing his right arm over the hilt of sword.

"Yes. Indeed." You say coolly focusing back on your Lady and her prince.

"Heard it was your idea." Bucky continues. "The walk."

"Yes."

"You still haven't forgiven me, have you?" Bucky sighs.

"My, whatever gave you that impression?" Your body is taught, head and neck stiff as you keep your eyes forward.

Steve says something in a hushed tone and your Lady laughs. A pang of jealousy strikes your chest. If only you could have experienced something so pure.

"I've apologised countless times already." Bucky says in a desperate whisper.

"Quiet." You hiss over at him. "I don't need my Lady to know about her servant's business. Nor do I want to discuss it further."

Bucky clamps his mouth shut with a frown. "Courting you isn't... it's not..."

You suck in a sharp breath and glower at him with the fury of a thousand suns. "Your cowardice is none of my concern."

You snap your head and beam at your Lady when she addresses you, answering her politely with an inclination of your head. When she turns away, your frown is back and your voice drips contempt.

"I'm not one of your love-sick damsels, Bucky." You snap. "Go and bay at some other poor creature's window and let her take pity on you instead."

You take a few long strides to get ahead of him, leaving him to sulk behind you. You don't look back. You don't need him to see how your eyes are full to the brim with tears.

Your words struck harder than any blow a man could have dealt him and they echo in Bucky's mind long after the walk has finished and Steve gushes about his future wife-to-be.

"Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Steve sighs dreamily.

"Yes, your highness." Bucky replies, remembering how you'd looked at him with such gentle care - like he'd break into a thousand pieces at your soft touch.

And then he'd scorned you.

"She's so- so- gah! I can't think of an adjective fitting enough!" Steve is practically frolicking from each side of the room.

Bucky can't remember the last time he himself had frolicked. Or if he ever would. "Yes, your highness."

Steve's frolicking ceases suddenly as he turns to look at his best friend, who's sitting sullen in a dark corner, growing mushrooms. Steve had never seen him look so glum.

"I take it you're mystery woman didn't work out?" Steve questions, sitting backwards on a chaor opposite Bucky.

"Something like that, your-"

"If you say your highness once more I'll throw something at you." Steve sighs, crossing his arms across the top of the chair and resting his head on top of them. "You know you can refer to me by my name in private."

Bucky sighs, slumping further into himself. "Sorry. But yes, the mystery woman didn't work out."

Steve studies Bucky for a moment. "May I ask how come? I've never seen you this upset over a woman before. Surely, a woman didn't finally break your heart?"

"No." Bucky replies and Steve grins. "But I ruined everything."

That wipes the smile off Steve's face. "How so?"

"I said I cannot be with her." Bucky sighs. "My duty is to you and the Kingdom. A knight-"

Steve looks utterly aghast. "You said what?"

"I- well," Bucky shrugs helplessly. "It would never have worked out."

Steve's mouth hangs open. "You mean to tell me that this mystery woman you have been chasing for months... you- you-" Steve runs his hands over his face and groans loudly. "You're such a fool."

"Surprisingly," Bucky chuckles wryly. "She has been telling me similar."

"No wonder." Steve harrumphs, slumping into a chair. "There is no rule for you not to marry." He says finally, eyes closed and brows furrowed. "I'm not understanding your logic, Buck."

Bucky rolls his shoulders, half shrug, half releasing the tension in his muscles. It didn't make sense out loud - not really. However, Bucky knew that his dedication to the kingdom and to Steve would always trump whoever he would be married to. And when it came to you in particular, he didn't think he would be able to fulfill his duty.

You would always, always, come first.

Well, up until a fortnight ago.

He had thought that it was best if he put an end to your secret courtship; best for the both of you. Best for him. Stupidly, he had not expected that your warm demeanour would shift to cold. Gone was the kindness and the gentle caresses of your hand brushing against his when he'd accompany you to the market to give the prince and his fianceé some privacy. Instead, he felt as if you were now leagues apart - the look of irreprable despair on your face when he told you things had to end haunting every waking moment. The fact of the matter was he loved you and that he could not do anything about it.

He tells Steve as much, who throws up his hands in exasperation.

"Why did you not tell me?" He huffs and Bucky smiles. Of course his best friend would be upset over a secret romance.

"Because you are so in love," Bucky replies coolly. "I didn't want to trouble you with this trivial matter."

"Love is not trivial." Steve argues. "She's unlike your other flings, correct?"

Bucky nods. "Entirely different."

"And she feels the same way?"

"She did," Bucky sighs. "I wouldn't be surprised if she hates my guts at present."

"Then all is not lost." Steve says jumping up. "If she truly loved you, her heart would not be fickle. Her anger at you demonstrates as much."

Bucky blinks at him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"Deathly." Steve says seriously. "Now, tell me. Who is she? I wish to help you devise a plan to win her back."

Your Lady had been at afternoon tea with the Queen the following day, dismissing you from your usual duties. The day had been warm enough to read in the sunshine, the evening cold enough to hurry you inside; yet, the sky remained clear enough to see the stars. You sat in the stone crevice of you window gazing up into the night, thanking the powers that be from thwarting further emotional investment on such a cowardly knight.

You may have wished upon a star that there was a different outcome, and you sigh away thoughts of what could have been.

That is, until, a voice beckons you from the darkness below. You squint downward and a warm firey glow from a torch illuminatws a man's face.

"Bucky?"

He grins up at you. "Good evening, my lady."

You roll your eyes and pull a sour face. "How did you get in?"

"I'm a future king's knight." He says, as if it answers your question entirely.

"Very well," you snap. "What are you doing here?"

His face falters for a second - struggling to keep his smile under your hard gaze. "To see you. I wish to speak with you." He pauses to swallow a lump in his throat. "To make ammends."

"Oh," you say, faux-excited. "Here is something for you to make ammends with."

Bucky tactfully dodges the silver jug you launch at him and watches ruefully as you close the wooden windows, shielding yourself from him. A quick glance to the darkness to his left with a shrug, has Steve pointing furiously at the trellis that clings to the wall, leading to your chambers. Bucky sighs.

You pace angrily. How dare he! It isn't enough to have embarassed you, but to get your hopes up too! You thump a pillow angrily, before hugging it to your body, and continue your pacing. A soft knock at your wooden shutters stops you.

No. He couldn't- he wouldn't- have.

You throw the shutters open and there is Bucky, half-hanging onto your window ledge. He looks sheepish, covered in scratches from the roses that trail the trellis but somehow still manages a smile.

"Please," he says quietly. "Listen to what I have to say."

You fold your arms and make no move to help into your room. He sighs in defeat and begins to talk.

"I was a fool. I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you." He dips his head. "But you must understand that my duty would be to the prince first and foremost."

You harrumph in response but he continues.

"However, the prince has informed me that I am also an incredibly small-minded fool amd that I would make a better court jester than a knight - if I do not make it right by you."

You raise an eyebrow and he wiggles slightly. Something snaps under his foot and his body slips slightly. Tensing, you sigh and reach over to him to help him up. He thanks you, and smiles like he hasn't ripped out your heart once already.

"You have apologised many times already." You tell him, picking a stay leaf from his mail.

"I wish to make it right, not apologise." He says firmly. He takes your hand in his softly, cautiously, careful not to break you. "I want you to be my wife."

You stare at him incredulous, heart beating like a cornered beast's. "Bucky you-"

"-are a fool? A wretch?" He interjects, holding your hand tighter. His eyes are fierce. He was serious. "I cannot for a moment think of my life without you. I wish to be selfish. Even if it means forgoing my duties."

"You- but the prince-"

"I have Steve's blessing." He says quickly. "I would be lying if I said that this entire evening was my idea."

It clicks. That was how he got in. The prince pulled strings; which meant...

"My lady also knows about this?"

"By morning, I will let everyone know." Bucky says. "I will shout it from the rooftops if I must; let everyone know that I am yours." He glances at you, eyes hopeful and voice low. "If you will have me?"

It is the longest moment of your life, until you remember to breathe again and fling your arms around his neck. "Of course, my beautiful fool!" You kiss his cheeks as he picks you up and spins you around your room. "Don't you ever be so stupid ever again!"

"Now that, my dear, I can promise."

END

Maybe we will see these two again! I quite like Knight!Bucky hehe 😈

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[foxes-in-love]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Phantom Power 2

Warning: power imbalance, size kink, dark content, and all around sexiness.

Summary: you work in the background until you’re dragged front and centre. (actor!Napoleon Solo, short reader)

Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕

“He’s so cool.” Cody says. “You see his last movie?”

“So awesome.” Harris chuckles. “IMAX, bro. It’s a whole other experience.”

“Did you see him with that actress?”

“Which one?” Harris snorts.

“That blonde one… you know…”

“Really narrows it down, dude.”

You’ve seen the magazines too. Seen the headlines while scrolling. You’re not one for celebrity gossip. You find it a bit strange to be so involved in anyone else’s private life.

You sink into the wall. It’s not unusual for you to wilt beneath these conversations. Most of the techs are guys and most of them have no shame. When there’s certain actresses on set, they’re almost drooling.

“Guy is living the life.” Harris sighs. “Sports cars, hot girls, rich as fuck.”

You fidget and focus on the sound in your earpiece. Can they not just do their work? You don’t need to hear all this.

“If I was him, I’d have one in the morning and one at bedtime.” Cody slithers.

“Oh and what about Trinity?”

“What about her? She’s hot enough but she’s so damn boring.” Cody drones.

Ugh. You feel bad for this woman you’ve never met. To have someone talk about you like that. Barely a human to them but an outlet for relief or boredom.

“I heard that Sharon Carter if single now.” Cody says.

“Kinda old now…”

“Fuck that, dude. She is sexay. I know girls ten years younger who don’t look like her.”

“You think Rogers fucked up or she’s a dead fish?” Harris snickers.

You grimace. That’s so gross. You don’t get men. At least, all the ones you’ve been around are confounding. Rude or disgusting or just completely uninterested.

📽️

“Ugh, I’m done.” Penelope fans herself. “Someone get me some juice juice.”

Her special blend of ginger, apple cider vinegar, honey, and a dash of vodka is her ‘special cure’ for her hangovers. You’re not sure it helps and it looks and smells rancid. For someone so glamorous, she really isn’t. You try not to judge; you wear the same thing every day, black jeans, black shirt, all to just blend into the background.

You approach her as she stands and grins over at her guest. He rubs his thick fingers together as he sniffs. She winks.

“It was so nice to see you again.” She trills. “You must remember, the after party last year?”

“Mm, remind me which one?” He squints.

She giggles. “Oh, you’re silly. I know you know.” Her smile fades and she rubs her temples as her eyes roll back. “Hurry up and get this shit off me!”

You rush forward and reach for her mic. It catches on the fabric of her blouse and you struggle to untangle it, nearly dropping it into her cleavage. She swats your hand.

“Ugh, don’t you know how to do the one thing you do– ACH!” She exclaims suddenly and veers to the side as her hand is seized and her arm bends awkwardly to the side. She leans into Napoleon’s grip. “Ow! What are you doing?”

“Did no one ever teach you manners? The woman is doing her job and you’re not making it any easier.” He lets her go.

“It’s fine, I got the mic.” You show him.

“No, it’s not. She hit you.” He crosses his arms. “Apologise to her.”

Penelope scoffs and her green-blue eyes flick between you and the action star. “Are you serious? I’m not a child, don’t talk to me like that. She’s just a tech–”

“Her and everyone else keep your trash show on the air.” He retorts evenly. “If you’re going to behave like a child, then you should be treated like one.” He huffs. “Where’s your producer? I’m having second thoughts about the broadcast.”

“What?” She nearly screeches. “You can’t. You signed a contract.”

“With terms and conditions.” He counters without a beat.

“She’s just a tech–”

“And she’s better at what she does than you are at your… whatever you do.” He turns to you and drops his arms. “Will you kindly remove my mic? I need to go have a conversation with my agent.”

He bends his knees and leans in slightly so you can reach his mic. You can see his throat constrict as you unhook it from his collar. As you slide the power switch back he gently touches your upper arm.

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated.” He squeezes just a little and lets go, standing straight. You’re barely at a height with the top of his stomach.

He adjusts his tie and smooths his jacket. Penelope tugs on his sleeve. “You can’t be serious? All this because of this… thing.” She whines.

“Do not touch me.” He turns and gently girds her away with his forearm. “Do it again, and I will file a complaint.”

“Sir…” you utter quietly.

It’s nice of him to speak up. Most of the other guests are too focused on getting out of there or pretend they don’t notice her behaviour. Everyone on the crew is terrified of the host. And when he’s gone, she’ll only be worse. It would’ve been easier if he’d said nothing so she’d go back to not knowing you exist.

“A complaint? You grabbed me.” She pouts.

“After you hit an employee.”

“I didn’t–”

“We’re done. Don’t air the interview.” He shakes his head and turns, pausing as his eye catches yours. “Are you alright?”

“I told you, fine.” You mumble and look down at the mics. “I should… go put these away.”

Despite everything Cody and Harris were going on about and all the gossip sites, he’s not as bad as you would think. He’s considerate at least. Then again, you really are just a tech like Penelope says.

You turn and scurry off. You feel the tension of people watching, of the shock of the witnesses, of Penelope’s brewing wrath. You need to get away before she really explodes.

[thezombieprostitute]

Her job is about to become a living hell. 😖

Then, of course, he'll need to "rescue" her from said awful boss.

[herejustforbuckybarnes]

just friends

pairing: Nerd!Bucky x Roommate!Reader wc: +10k summary: After finding your roommate in a compromising situation, you volunteer to give him a hand… and a mouth, kickstarting the most tumultuous semester in your friendship with a sexual benefits deal; wisely, some rules were established. But would those rules be enough to keep you just friends? a/n: Part of Midterms & Metal Arms A College AU Marathon. Beta read by @buckysdecaflove, @w1nter-fairy, and @kileyking. warnings/tags: College/University AU, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Roommates to FWB to Lovers, no use of y/n, smut, secret crush, accidental voyeurism, Bucky calls reader Bunny, grinding, masturbation, use of sex toy, oral sex, sexual free use, breast fucking, thighs fucking, praise kink, eventual p in v, breeding kink, crossposted on ao3, english is not my first language.

Read on AO3 | Collab Masterlist | AO3 Collection | Navigation

The commute from the building where your last lecture was held to your off-campus department was 25 minutes on a regular day using your bike. In Bucky’s case, he took 15 minutes due to his way of driving his restored car.

You knew that.

Your roommate knew that.

That knowledge made it easier to predict when the other would arrive at the apartment. It helped to avoid awkward encounters, like the time he had found you making out and half naked, with your classmate on the couch. Or when you saw him butt-naked as he got out of the shower because he had forgotten his towel in his room.

The only flaw in this?

Yelena.

Yelena, your classmate and best friend, had started seeing a girl who lived near you. This meant that she could drive you home on her way to meet with her new fling.

The day that changed everything had been one of those days. Your lecture would be cut short, and Yelena had been texting Kate as soon as the professor had announced that the class would wrap up early. Leaving at that hour meant less traffic, and to your luck, every traffic light had been green.

“Is this our lucky day? Should we buy a lottery ticket?” Yelena exclaimed after the third green light.

Inside your building, your luck continued because Mrs. Park held open the elevator for you the moment you crossed the front door.

You arrived at your door 10 minutes before your class usually ended. You had just opened your mouth to let out your usual “Hey, Buck” to announce your arrival when you heard it.

A moan coming from down the hall.

You widened your eyes; your keys slipped from your grip, landing on the rug with a dull noise. You knelt to pick them up, eyes scanning the living room frantically.

You noticed Bucky’s books were scattered over the dining table. His reading glasses were there, forgotten by his economics book. A single can of soda was near it.

There was no sign of any other person inside the apartment.

Another moan.

You should have turned around and left, given him the privacy he needed, and come back later. But you didn't. You stood up, and with your keys in hand, you padded silently down the hallway to your room.

The door of his room was slightly open as you passed.

More whimpering, followed by a curse.

You should have ignored it, continued your path, and hid in your room. Instead, you froze, turning to the source of the noise.

Spread over his bed, Bucky was lying down over his covers; his sweatpants and boxers were rolled down to his knees, and his shirt was forgotten on the floor. His fist was gliding up and down his cock, neck exposed as he pushed his head back. His eyes were closed, mouth open, letting every whimper out freely.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your breath turned shallow and rapid as you watched him jerk off.

This was wrong.

You shouldn't be standing there, watching him, and much less getting worked up because of it.

He was your roommate. Your friend. Bucky wasn't even your type for fucks sake — he wasn't an athlete, with a chiseled body comparable to a Greek statue; he wasn't the most confident man out there either, smugly flirting with every skirt with legs.

Bucky was a textbook nerd. Always with his nose buried in a book, a cute stuttering mess, he triggered your cute aggression, not the I want to climb you like a tree and bounce on your cock type of aggression.

“Please, please —ngh,” He begged, tearing up.

You didn't know why you did it, but hearing his pleas broke your control. Carefully, you crept into his room until you were standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed.

In bed, his phone went off with an alarm he had set up before he had fallen into his lust. He reached his hand blindly, turning the alarm off, lost in whatever fantasy he had conjured behind his closed eyes.

You’ll be home in 10 minutes.

“Fuck, I need to — ah, please.”

“Do you need help?” You said softly, in the same tone you always used with him. Warm. Open. Sweet.

His eyes snapped open, finding you standing near him. Your name left his lips, neediness laced with each letter.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't — You're here early, you were supposed to…” He stuttered, covering his dick with his hand and reaching behind him to take a cushion.

“I can help you.” Your tote bag, filled with books, landed on the rug next to your feet with a thud, and your keys followed. He froze. “You said you needed something.”

His throat bobbed.

“Bunny…”

He said your nickname, the one he had started using after he had met you at Yelena’s birthday party in your first semester. You had been wearing a last-minute costume — white bunny ears with a simple white short dress — because your original one had gotten ruined early that day. Bucky had been hiding out on the second floor, nursing a can of beer and hoping that his friends wouldn't find him after dragging him to the party already. Since he couldn't register your name over the loud music, he had called you Bunny the entire party. From there, it had stuck.

“Tell me, Bucky. What do you need?”

“I—” He shook his head.

You tutted. “House rules, remember? Hmm? Always be honest with each other. Tell me.”

“I need… I need to cum. So bad…”

“Thank you for telling me.” You placed a knee on the mattress between his legs, and slowly, you climbed the bed. “Now, let me help you.”

“Bunny.” He whimpered when you removed his hand from his crotch.

“Let me. That's what friends do, right? Help each other out. Always.” You said, tracing your fingers along his leg, getting higher and higher. “Can I?”

“Bunny…”

“Bucky.”

“Please.”

You smiled, and then moved your hand over his length; his cock twitched in respond of your touch, beads of pre cum leaked out of his reddish tip.

“Tell me if you want me to do anything different, okay?”

He nodded, but he was still tense.

“Hey, you can close your eyes and imagine I’m someone else; I don't mind. This is just to help you finish.”

Bucky took a deep breath and threw his head back, closing his eyes. You leaned in, taking his cock in your hands; you began peppering kisses on its tip. Bucky moaned in response.

You dragged your tongue along the vein on its underside, and then you guided it into your mouth.

Bucky cursed, digging his hands into the mattress.

You bobbed your head up and down, slowly taking him inch by inch until you could take most of him into your mouth comfortably.

Bucky was big, with a girth that made your pussy clench in wonder at how it would feel inside you, stretching you until you were a babbling mess.

“Shit, I’m close.”

You hummed with him still in your mouth, agreeing with him since you could feel him throbbing. His hips jerked up in search of the warmth of your mouth; you increased your movements, your hands giving attention to his balls and stroking the rest of his cock.

“Bunny, bunny, I’m…” He groaned, and for the first time, he reached his hand to tap your shoulder.

You removed your mouth with a pop, and kept stroking him as you said: “It’s okay, you can finish in my mouth.”

Before Bucky could reply, you took him into your mouth again and down your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone. Tears gathered in your eyes at the intrusion, but you didn't care; you kept bobbing your head until he spilled inside your mouth with your name on his lips.

You kept sucking him until you swallowed the last drop of his seed, and he was too overwhelmed after who knows how much time he had been working himself up. You took him out of your mouth, feeling him softening in your palm as his breath steadied.

Once you were on your feet, you knelt down to take your stuff up and took his shirt with your hand. When he opened his eyes, he saw you wiping the fabric of his shirt on your mouth, cleaning every remaining fluid from your face. Then you turned around and walked to the door.

“Bunny, wait!” He rushed to put his boxers and sweats back on.

You looked at him over your shoulder, “Yes?”

“You can't go.” You raised a brow.

“You needed to cum, and you did. I helped you out, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did. But, don't you want to… talk about it?”

Even if his skin was all flushed, his pupils still blown, and his clothes were poorly on him, he looked at you with pure worry.

You smiled fondly at him. “We are friends, Bucky. Nothing has to change.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, now… can I go?”

He exhaled in relief. “Yes, you can. Thank you, Bunny.”

“Any time.” You grabbed the door to close it. “It’s your turn to cook dinner, by the way.”

“Right! Uh, pasta? My mom’s recipe?”

“God, yes, please. I’ll take a shower in the meantime; see you in a bit.” You closed the door behind you after hearing his goodbye and then rushed to your room.

Luckily for you, your room had its own bathroom, away from the door that led to the hallway, which meant that while Bucky cooked dinner, he didn't hear you masturbating in your shower under the sound of the running water.

Even if you tried to push the memory into a box and forget it in the back of your mind, you couldn't avoid replaying the scene in his room, nor the way he had moaned your name as he came. And you definitely ignored the way you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning his name as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Once you were satisfied and clean, you left your room wearing your pajamas. During dinner, things were a little bit awkward, but it slowly got better as you fell into your familiar dynamic. He yapped about his next exam, and you ranted about your lecture that day. The conversation moved to the kitchen, as both cleaned before going back into your rooms.

You and Bucky just clicked together; you had done so since you met. Living together, even if it had been by pure luck — a month into your friendship, you had ranted that your landlord had raised your rent, and he had confessed he was looking for a place off campus; it had been a no-brainer to accept becoming roommates — had amped that. As the months and years progressed, you had gotten to a point where you understood each other and knew exactly what the other needed without the need for words.

He knew when you were stressed and needed silence, reassurance, or when you needed space. But he also knew when you were feeling homesick and needed a hug or a cuddle.

Two days after you gave him a blowjob, you learned that he also knew when you were needy and how to make you cum in record time.

You had been lying on the couch, reading a book on your e-reader after you had been stressing out over an exam. Bucky looked at you from his spot on the other end of the couch, where he had been playing a game on his phone.

“Everything okay there?” He asked, looking at you up and down.

You swallowed, shifting your legs again. “Yeah, why did you ask?”

“Bunny, house rules.” He rolled his eyes and put his phone on the coffee table.

“I'm not lying.” You scoffed.

“You are. You had been sitting there for the past five minutes, rubbing your legs together, and sighing like you're out of a romantic soap opera.” Bucky grinned. “Oh, my lovely Bunny, what are you reading? Is it one of those smutty books of yours?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You attempted to kick him with your leg, but he grabbed you by your ankle, stopping you from hitting him.

“You are.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “Are you horny, Bunny?”

You shut up, locking eyes with him as he angled his body towards you.

“Do you need help with that?” He lowered his voice.

“With what?” You croaked, mouth dry.

“To get off. I can return the favor right now.” His fingers, that had been wrapped around your ankle, moved up, stroking your leg. “Besides, you know what happens when you orgasm. How the neurotransmitters that are released when you climax help you reduce your stress, sleep better, and help you relax — we share a wall, Bunny. I can hear you on the other side, still up in the middle of the night.” He called you out.

He continued moving his hand up your thigh until his fingertips grazed the hem of your shorts.

You didn't stop him.

“So, can I? You can imagine it's one of the characters of that book… You can keep reading it while I taste you.”

“You’re joking. Making fun of what I said and did that day.” You huffed and shifted your eyes away from him.

He shook his head. “It's just me. We're just friends, right? Helping each other out. I love helping you, you know that.”

You met his eyes again and then nodded, “Okay, make me cum.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He joked and then positioned himself between your legs. “Go back to your book; you can even read it out loud. Guide me if you want to try something out.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled, and then returned your eyes to the screen.

Bucky grabbed the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down your thighs until they were dangling off your ankle. He leaned in and started kissing your now exposed skin until he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath and his nose bumping over your panties.

You kept reading, pressing your lips together to avoid making a sound. He kissed over your panties, and then he removed them. The first drag of his tongue made you open your mouth in a silent cry.

Bucky held you open; his hands were under your hip, in full control of the angle. You had been wet as you read your book, wondering if the main character in your book would be a whimpering mess like Bucky was as the female character rides him; now you were dripping, clenching around nothing, begging in your mind to be fucked on your couch.

No.

No.

It's the hormones talking. I'm just horny.

Having his dick inside you would be too much. If the line in your friendship had blurred, penetration would mean total erasure. But to be honest, it wasn't as if his dick wouldn't be doing something much different than what his tongue was doing right now.

Oh God, where had he learned to do that?

“Fuck, Bucky.” You groaned. Loudly. Throwing your head back.

Bucky removed his head from between your thighs to stare at you when he heard your e-reader hit the ground.

“Is something wrong? Want me to stop or change something?”

You looked at him as if he had grown another head out of his neck, and with your hands, you pushed back between your legs.

“Shut up. Keep doing that. Don't stop.” You panted, treading your fingers in his hair as your hips jerked against his mouth. He lapped his tongue over your sensitive clit, alternating with sucking it and shaking his head to add more depth to his attacks. “Oh fuck, mmm, yes, yes, Bucky, that's so good.”

He shifted, sinking his knees on the couch. Then he grabbed your legs and placed them over his shoulders; after that, he pulled your hips up, half-strengthening his back. He pressed your thighs together against his face, suffocating himself.

The new angle made you gasp; you braced yourself on the arm of the couch. You were now openly mewling. Your loud moans were barely overpowered by the obscene sound of his mouth on you.

You came not too long after that, panting and with your legs trembling over his shoulders. Before he let you down, he grazed his teeth with a playful bite and then kissed the spot.

Your breath was still ragged when you accepted his bottle of water that he had offered. You took a sip of water and then looked back at him.

“Why the fuck did Dot break up with you if you could do that?” You asked, stunned.

He had the decency of looking shy, scratching the back of his neck.

“She broke up with me because I wasn't very social, you know me; she wanted me out with her every single week to a party, and that drains me too much. I can only handle too much socialization.” He explained with a shrug.

“What an idiot, believe me, I’d have compromised my social life if my amazing boyfriend could make me cum as hard as you just made me do. And with only your tongue!” You exclaimed as you put back your underwear and shorts. You would have to run back to your room to take a shower and change in a minute because the stickiness between your legs would drive you crazy.

He took a thrown pillow and hit the side of your leg. “Shut up, Bunny!”

You snorted. “I’m serious. I already knew she had lost a great guy; this just adds more stupidity on her side.”

“Thank you, I suppose.” He blushed.

“Just take the compliment, Buck. It's house rules.” You returned the hit with the thrown pillow and ran to your room, squealing and dodging another hit from him.

The agreement was made that same week, officially getting added to the house rules. You would help him take the edge off, and he would help you, too. Easy. Efficient. Complete trust and free use in the apartment unless stated otherwise.

There was one catch, though: no penetration, no kissing. You were friends at the end of the day, and you didn't want to mess that up.

So you let him do everything else, except put his cock inside you.

He would fuck your tits after hitting a wall while doing an essay, eyes closed as he fought the urge to come on the spot at the sight of your glistening skin and your eyes looking up at him as you pushed your tits together. He had made the mistake of looking down the other day, and after batting your eyelashes to him in an oh-so-innocent way, you had put your tongue out just as he pushed in and took an experimental kitten lick over his tip. He had come in that moment, painting your face and tits with his seed. Laughing, you had continued stroking him until he was overstimulated.

One particular time that you had been stressing because your teammates were useless, you were ranting about it with him sitting next to you after you had finished eating dinner while watching a series.

“Do you wanna forget about it?” Bucky asked after you had finished ranting, and he had already tried to cheer you up, given you his advice, and even offered to help you with your project.

“Please.” You sighed.

“How do you need me?” He asked.

“Just stay still.” You said, climbing into his lap.

“I can do that.”

“And stay quiet.” You added, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh, I thought you liked it when I talk dirty. I felt you clench on my fingers when I talked like that and when I praised you.”

You slapped his chest. “Since when are you this smug? What did you do to my best friend?”

“Since you complimented my oral skills.” His grin widened.

You rolled your eyes.

“What? You had been trying since we met to boost my confidence; it's finally working.”He said, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “Take the win, Bunny.”

“Fine, you can talk. Can I hump you now?”

“I’m all yours.”

You chuckled and braced your hands at each side of his head, grabbing the back of the couch.

You rolled your hips, feeling him getting hard under you.

“Fuck, Bunny, why do I feel this is helping me more than it's doing for you?”

“Believe me, it is helping.” You whimpered with eyes closed, leaning towards him. “So much.” Your voice cracked.

“You’re doing so well.” He praised.

“Thanks for the help, Bucky.” You huffed a laugh.

“I can help you even more, if you want.”

You straightened your back and stared down at him. “How?”

Bucky guided his hands and grabbed the hem of his your oversized shirt, taking it off and leaving you half naked, since your bra had been removed earlier that day.

“I can put my oral skills to use.” He cupped your breast and guided your nipple to his mouth, just brushing his lips against it. “I’ve been wanting to give them the attention they deserve since I noticed how… sensitive they are.”

With the tip of his tongue, he circled your nipple, keeping eye contact with you. You stared down at him, biting your lip to hide your smile, shaking your head slightly at his smug behavior.

You liked it.

Confidence suited him well.

He blew air over your wet skin. “Keep going, Bunny.”

You whined when he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking at it while playing with his tongue over it. You leaned into him and continued dry-humping him.

“Turn around.” He ordered after a few minutes.

“Huh?”

“You still have that frown on your face; you're still thinking about it. Let me help you.”

You sighed and then turned onto his lap, his hard cock snuggled under your ass.

“What now?”

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you to him. “Lean back, Bunny.” You did so, until your back hit his chest, and your head could rest over his shoulder. “Now relax.” He kissed your naked shoulder.

He returned his attention to your breast, alternating to not leave any too long neglected. With his other hand, he traced lazy figures on your navel and, slowly, oh so painfully slowly, he guided his hand under your clothes.

Your hips jolted at the feeling of his fingers grazing your clit.

“Open your legs, let me touch you.” He mumbled in the shell of your ear, and you complied, spreading your legs over his, his knees under you, locking you in place. “That’s it, good Bunny.”

You whimpered, responding to each movement of his fingers with a roll of your hips, grinding on his cock. His ragged breath on your neck gave him away as to how worked up he was, so you decided to give him a hand. Literally.

You shifted forward to give enough space for your hand to sneak between your bodies, and began stroking him under his pants.

“Fuck, Bunny, this is about you.”

“I want you to feel good too.” You muttered.

He pushed two fingers inside you, matching each stroke you gave his cock with the pumping of his fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Each time you rubbed his tip, he curled his fingers, pressing them on your sweet spot.

“Oh, that feels good.” Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in the sensation.

“Yeah, bunny? That's good, you're doing so well.” He cooed.

Your free hand gripped the couch, as fireworks went off inside you; the lewd sound of his fingers inside you increased when you gushed around his fingers.

“That’s it, Bunny, let go.”

As you squirmed over his lap, your hold on his cock tightened; his hips jolted forward, fucking himself on your fist, and seconds later, he came.

Your breath was still uneven when you let out a soft chuckle, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked, puzzled by your sudden laugh.

“Why was I even stressed about?”

He mirrored your chuckle. “I dunno.”

You turned, your nose slightly brushing his face. He did his best not to kiss you right there. To his surprise, you kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“The pleasure is mine, literally.”

You giggled and peeled yourself off him. You reached for the tissue box that you had placed on the coffee table since all this started, and cleaned your hands, as well as your inner thighs. When you were done, you passed the box to Bucky to clean himself.

“Shower and a movie in a few minutes?” You suggested, standing up and stretching, still topless.

“Of course.” He said, keeping his eyes down.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Don't make it weird; you're acting as if you didn't have your mouth attached to my chest like 5 minutes ago.”

“If I look up, I’d want to do it again.”

You thought he was joking, so you slapped his arm playfully. “Of course, Buck, whatever you say.” Your shoulders were still shaking with laughter as you walked to your room, leaving him in the living room to contemplate if all of this had been a mistake.

It became a regular thing then.

You got better at it, reading each other and finding stolen moments to get each other off. Trouble, of course, appeared sooner rather than later — because obviously, none of you had told any of your friends.

Steve was the first to almost catch you, and it had been your fault. That day, on your way home, you had texted Bucky, asking him if he was home after a stressful day. You made the mistake of not reading his text, and when you got to your apartment, you had walked down the hallway straight to his room.

“I’m home,” you said, removing your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You began undoing the buttons of your shirt as you pushed his door open. “You won't believe the day I had. I’m gonna need you to— Steve! Hi!” You widened your eyes and quickly covered your already exposed bra when you found Steve sitting at Bucky’s desk.

Steve blushed and said your name, gesturing a hello. You thanked God that you hadn't entered his room without pants, as you two had begun to wander inside the apartment in your underwear with nothing more than an oversized shirt in your case or sweatpants and a shirt in his.

“Bucky didn't tell me you would be here.” You said under a fake smile.

Bucky got back into the room, finding you standing by the door.

“I guess you didn't get my text,” Bucky mumbled in equal shock to you.

“I did not.” You turned on your heels, giving your back to Steve. “I’ll be in my room.”

Bucky mouthed sorry to you, and you quickly scrambled out of the room. When you took out your phone, his text mocked at you, reading that Steve had come to the apartment by surprise since he needed some tutoring, and that he would be more than happy to help you out as soon as he walked out.

Another time, not as embarrassing as that one, had occurred on campus. You and Yelena were eating some ice cream that the student committee had been giving out when Bucky found you.

“Hi, Bunny.” He greeted you, standing right in front of you.

“Hi! Want some?” You offered your cone as you had done multiple times in the past. He nodded, but instead of taking the cone from your hands, he leaned in, covering your hand with his as he licked a strip of melted ice cream and then sucked some more, all while staring right at you.

“Mmm, my favorite.” The tip of his tongue peeked out of his lips, collecting any residue of the cold dessert, as he kept eye contact.

Fuck me.

You might as well have combusted in the spot; you were horny as fuck since you hadn't had any action since your period started, contrary to him, who had been on the receiving end of your blowjobs.

“I’ll be staying after class at the library. Text me what you want me to get to dinner, okay?”

You hummed, still staring at his mouth. He dared to smile.

“Good.” He finally turned to see Yelena, who had watched the whole exchange like a hawk. “Yelena.” He nodded at her. “Catch you later, Bunny, thank you for sharing.”

And then he was gone.

“The fuck was that?” Yelena exclaimed.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You busied yourself back into finishing your ice cream, ignoring the way her eyes were burning the side of your head.

“Are you guys fucking in your apartment? Is that why we haven't done a sleepover recently?” Yelena accused, making you choke on your ice cream.

“What the fuck, Lena?” You coughed. “We haven't done any sleepovers because you have been sleeping at Kate’s since you started hooking up.”

“Hey, we sometimes stay at mine. And don't change the subject; you didn't answer.”

“We’re not. We’re roommates, and he's my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend too, but you don't look at me like that, do you?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “If that wasn't sexual tension, I don't know what it was.”

“Maybe you're projecting."

She slapped your arm. "Shut up. But you might be right; thankfully, my period is over, so..." she grinned, already thinking of her date night with Kate.

"Lucky girl."

"Going back to you and Bucky. Why the hell does he even keep calling you Bunny?" She scoffed. "It sounds so… sexual, you know?"

"I already told you, he has been calling me that since your birthday. He couldn't hear my name over the music, so he called me by my costume."

"I know that, but that was during the first semester, ages ago, before you two lived together. He knows your name by now."

"It's just a cute nickname. I like it." You shrugged, but you couldn't lie; the nickname had begun to sound more intimate the last couple of weeks, especially since each time he said it with a much more sultry voice than he did before, it took you back to not-so-innocent moments.

"Dot and every guy you had dated hated it, which reminds me — Do you want to go out on a double date with Kate and me? She has this friend that I'm sure is your type. Who knows, Bob might give you a hand and break your dry spell."

You scrunched your nose at her suggestion. Something about someone else touching you in a sexual context made you sick. "I'm fine, Lena. I'm good with my own hands and toys, thank you very much."

"Ugh, you're no fun." She groaned. "The offer is there. Bob is a great guy, but Bucky isn't a bad choice either, if you two decide to finally start dating."

You gave her a shoulder check and resumed your walk towards your next lecture.

If only she knew.

You two were just having fun, helping each other out. You reminded yourself frequently.

You made each other get the edge off… in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the living room, in the hallway, in his room, in the laundry room, in the hallway, in his car. While, after, and before studying or going to work.

His gaming sessions weren't an exception.

Usually, even before you started this, while he was playing video games in his room, you would find your way there and read on his bed or play one of your cozy games on your portable console. Sometimes you would grab popcorn and other snacks, sit next to him, and watch him play.

It stopped being innocent one time you were reading another smutty book that got you so worked up that you ended up touching yourself on his bed. Bucky had looked over his shoulder after you let out a whimper before covering your mouth. He muted himself and asked you to approach. Once you were next to him, he patted his thigh and asked you to sit facing his setup.

“Grind, Bunny. Make yourself feel good.” He muttered before he lowered his mic again and unmuted, going back to his game. You rolled your hips over his thigh, leaving a wet spot on his skin. You leaned on his desk and buried your head in your arms to muffle your cries.

Since both of his hands were occupied, he gave you his attention by kissing your shoulder from time to time. Whenever he was killed in-game and had to spectate his teammates, he took you by the hips and aided you in your movements — sometimes he would die on purpose early on the match so he could play with your clit with one hand and cover your mouth with the other.

When you were close to your climax, he muted his mic, and with his warm mouth in your ear, he praised you as you came, ignoring the trash talk from Sam and Steve about how shitty he was playing that day. In return for the favor, you had sunk to your knees under his desk and suck him off while the other match started, making him lose again and bark an excuse to his friends to disconnect, and then took you to his bed to make you sit on his face while you kept his cock deep in your throat.

The first night Bucky slept with you in your bed after this agreement started hadn't been planned. You had slept together before; naturally, after so much time knowing each other, you had taken naps on the living room couch, or in his bed if you fell asleep there, but your room had been the exception — until that night.

"Hey, are you still awake?" Bucky asked from the other side of your door.

"Come in." You replied with a yawn.

"Did I wake you up?" He peeked his head out, opening the door slightly.

"You didn't. What's up?"

He was standing by the door, visibly nervous.

"Bucky?"

"Can I lie down with you?" He sounded tired. You knew he hadn't been sleeping well, too stressed about his projects. He always pressured himself; you had called him out many times, but he had been raised this way, and old habits died hard.

"Of course you can."

He climbed into your bed and lay down under the covers behind you since you were on your side. His arms quickly wrapped around you, one tucked under your head and the other around your waist, pulling your back into his chest.

You stayed silent in that position, caressing his arm around you, feeling his warm breath on the back of your neck.

“They will still love you if you don't get straight A’s, you know?” His hold around you tightened.

“I'm not so sure about that.” He replied, his voice sounded so… small.

“Well, I do. Because I don't care if you get an A or a C. You're still you, and I love you for that.” You said. “You’re kind, gentle, and yeah, you're a little awkward, and sometimes you forget how to socialize properly—”

You smiled triumphantly when he chuckled.

“Shut up.”

“You are funny, smart, and the best human being that I know of — not because you are perfect, but because you get up every morning and just… try.”

“Bunny…”

“And if your parents don't see that, fuck them, seriously. You don't need to go back there during the break. You can stay here, or go with me to my hometown, or even better, we can both take that trip you always tell me about.”

You couldn't see him, but you felt him melting around you, embracing you close as his breath eased.

“I'm so lucky to have you as a friend.” He mumbles

“Of course you are. I'm amazing.” You chuckled.

“Yes, you are.” He kissed your shoulder over your pajama shirt. "I hope you know all those wonderful things also apply to you. In fact, let's add it to the house rules.”

“What do you suggest?”

“No more stressing over school; we are allowed to fail. How about that?”

You hummed, “I like that. Took us long enough, but it's a good rule now that it's our final year.”

“Let’s try to sleep, Bunny.” He said, closing his eyes.

“I'm trying, but a big nerd came into my room in the middle of the night and won't stop talking.”

“Shut up.” He kicked your leg.

You returned the kick. “You shut up.”

“Shh.”

Stillness lasted almost an hour; you both were already drifting in your sleep when you shifted your hips slightly, brushing against his front. You stayed like that until you fell asleep.

In his sleep, Bucky jerked his hips forward in a sloppy rhythm, which woke you up eventually. Your eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, unable to move since he had you trapped against him.

“Mmm, Bunny.” You heard him whine; his hips were thrusting against your ass, his cock hardening with each movement.

You blinked away sleep and turned over your shoulder; to your surprise, he was asleep, mouth slightly open and chest rising in a steady rhythm.

He moaned your name, and you wouldn't lie, having him basically humping you from behind and moaning in your ear was making your panties wet.

His hand, that had been resting heavily over the curve of your waist, moved down, resting lower, dangerously close to your pussy.

“Bucky, wake up.” You managed to say, biting back a whimper from your part. “Bucky.”

“Mmm?” He hummed, keeping his eyes closed.

“You’re…” You squeezed his arm, but he didn't let you finish. As soon as he regained consciousness, his throbbing cock called his attention; the need to cum ran hot all over his body.

He tensed when he realized what he had been doing.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Bunny.” His voice was thick with sleep. He moved his hips away from you, but yours followed. “Bunny?”

“Wait. Do you need help with that?” You whispered, wiggling your ass against him.

He choked a moan.

“Bunny…”

“I can help.”

“We said no penetration.” He sounded pained.

You bit your lip and then shifted, angling yourself so his cock was nuzzled right below your ass cheeks.

“You don't need to put it in. Just… use my thighs.” You offered.

He was speechless.

“Did you read that in one of those books?” He teased.

“Shut up. Do you want to try it or not?” You wiggled your ass again, making him jolt forward.

“Fuck, wait, don't we need lube or something?”

You looked over your shoulder. “Bottom drawer, behind you.” He looked at you. You rolled your eyes. “I use it with my sex toys, dumbass.”

He would definitely ask about it later, maybe even ask you to give him a demonstration.

Bucky peeled himself from you to reach the drawer. When he opened it, he saw some silky bags of different sizes, a bottle, and a small towel. His curiosity won over, and he took one of the smaller bags, as well as the bottle of lube and the towel.

You turned on your back when you heard the shuffling behind you; he had turned on the lamp on your bedside table.

“I told you to grab the lube.” You scolded him.

“Which one is this?” He held the silky bag high so you could see it.

Your eyes trailed from the bag to his eyes. “My vibrating bullet.”

You saw the devilish grin that appeared on his face. He could picture you perfectly, on your back in your bed late at night after he had fallen asleep next door, holding the vibrator under your panties, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry, brows knitted in the expression he had come to learn like the back of his hand.

His cock twitched.

“Can you use it while I fuck your thighs?” He asked, even if the warm soft light only lit one side of his face, you noticed his heavy-lidded dark eyes; the bright blue was only a slim ring around his blown pupils.

You sighed through your nose, but nodded. The idea sounded really, really good. You lifted your hand and gestured for him to give you the bag.

Bucky let out a happy noise and then proceeded to free his hard cock. He put some lube on his palm and then smeared it along his length. He positioned himself back into position and then slid his cock between your thighs.

You were looking down, watching as his wet tip peeked between your plush skin. You lowered your hand and teased his tip when it peeked out.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He groaned behind you, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he rolled his hips. “Use it, make yourself good, please.”

You complied, taking out the vibrator from the bag after he handed you the lube.

The moment the added stimulation registered in your body, your hips jolted back, meeting his thrust and making both of you moan in unison.

Bucky gripped your hips, keeping you steady as he fucked himself between your legs. With the angle you held your hips, the bottom side of the vibrator brushed his tip when he rutted in.

“Fuck, Bunny, you're taking me so well.”

You whimpered his name, turning your head slightly and kissing his arm that was still tucked under your head.

“Keep going, don't stop.” You encouraged him, tightening your hold around his cock by crossing your legs.

He cursed, digging his fingers into your hips.

“Oh God, I’m not gonna last.”

“It's okay, cum Bucky, cum for me.”

He came with a groan, his hips jerked in sloppy thrusts until every drop dripped between your thighs. With his hand, he turned your face, and keeping eye contact, you came undone, with hot pleasure ripping you apart and pulling you back together for his eyes only.

Mouth hanging open.

Lips trembling.

Brows knitted.

Bucky really wished he could've kissed you in that moment. Muffle your cries with his lips, drink up your moans, and your taste.

But he didn't.

He just stared at you in awe, and if he hadn't just come, he was sure he would've reached ecstasy the moment your eyes locked in his.

He held you in his arms until you came back into your body, and after a few minutes, he got up with the towel in his hand. He emerged from your bathroom after cleaning himself, with your towel now warm in his hand.

Bucky climbed the bed, and mumbling praises, he cleaned the residue of his spent and lube from between your thighs, then he removed your soaked panties, and cleaned the evidence of your arousal.

He discarded the towel, and after roaming in the drawer you pointed out, he took a new pair of panties and, to your surprise, he put them on you, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh when he was done.

Back in your bed, he took his place behind you and cuddled you, holding you in his arms as sleep took over.

Those nights repeated, especially once the semester got to that point where both of you lived and breathed projects and heavy assignments.

Sometimes he would find his way into your room, giving you an orgasm or two before falling asleep. Morning with him also meant waking up with his mouth on you, kissing down your body, or tongue deep in your pussy.

“I like to taste you first thing in the morning. Works better than caffeine.” He had said the first time you had woken up with him under the covers.

You returned the favor, of course, waking him up, stroking him, or with his cock deep in your throat.

The mornings in your room together led to a shower together — only when your shower routine allowed it — and then to the kitchen, where both worked on breakfast. It was easy, the domesticity of all; it made your heart gallop and stop at the same time.

You knew things had changed; god, they probably changed before this whole agreement, somewhere between doing groceries and movie nights with your roommate.

Of course, you weren't the only one who had noticed that change.

“Okay, spit it out, tell me what's going on?” Yelena asked, rolling the grocery cart.

Bucky’s birthday was the following day, and you had been working on his surprise party, which meant an express grocery visit to buy all the last-minute items.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You muttered, taking several bags of chips and dumping them on top of the napkins.

“Oh, but you know. You had been glowing this past week, and I know you; I know when you're hiding something.”

“Lena, just drop it; nothing is going on.”

She hummed.

You thought she had, in fact, dropped it. She didn't.

“You know,” she said once everything was loaded in her car, and she got ready to drive out of the parking lot. “Jason asked about you.”

“Jason?”

“Tall guy, huge biceps, dreamy eyes. You hooked up with him during first year.” She detailed, keeping her eyes on the road.

Oh.

Jason.

The one Bucky had found you tongue deep in his throat.

That Jason.

“I remember.”

“Well, he is a friend of Kate. I met him at a reunion with her group of friends.”

“Sounds like you're finally going steady.”

“Stop deflecting.” She said, giving you side-eye. “He recognized me, asked about you, and I invited him to Bucky’s party, so you can reconnect.”

You widened your eyes. This was the last thing you needed.

“Yelena Belova.” You scolded.

“Wow, full government name.”

“Why the fuck did you invite him? He doesn't even know Bucky!”

“Kate also doesn't know him, and she's going.”

“That's different! She's your girlfriend.” You slapped her arm. “Uninvite him! I don't care! He's not coming.”

“Jesus, woman, I’m just trying to help you out! Exams had been stressful; maybe you need to fuck the stress out, you know.”

“Well, don't. I'm totally fine, I do not need more help.” The words spilled out of your mouth, blinded by the successful rage bait that your friend just did.

Yelena grinned.

“So you are getting help with that. I knew it. You looked extra chirpy these last months.” You widened your eyes in horror. “So who's the lucky guy?”

She glanced at you for a second, a quick read of your face, and then her jaw dropped.

“Oh, my God! Are you and Bucky finally together? Is this why I haven't been at your apartment? You don't want me to disrupt your love nest!”

You buried your face in your hands. “Shut up.”

She squealed.

“That’s not a no!”

“Lena, we are not together… we are just having fun.”

“You don't sound like you're having fun.” Her brows knitted with concern. “Babes, what’s the problem?”

“We are fuckbuddies. But I’m not sure if he wants more.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No. Well — I suggested some rules at the beginning; he agreed.”

“God, babes, for someone so smart, sometimes you do be an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Haven’t you stopped to think that maybe he agreed and you put those rules, because both of you thought that was the only way the other would agree to be that close to actually being something real?”

You shook your head.

“Babes, that guy has been head over heels for you since that night you met. And you had been too!” You opened your mouth. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed a breath out of your nose. “I actually was about to agree with you.”

“That's a first. Continue.”

“I’m such an idiot, but how do I even start undoing it?”

Yelena parked her car right outside your building.

“Maybe start undoing all those rules of yours.” She shrugged.

And you took it literally.

Maybe it was a mistake, and you should have stopped to think about it more clearly, but you were desperate.

Yelena left after she helped you take all the groceries upstairs and hide everything out of Bucky’s sight — which, in retrospect, wasn't necessary since Bucky knew you always threw a party for him. The only surprise was the theme.

And this year, the last birthday being a college student, the theme was costumes.

Just like the day you met.

Bucky arrived at the apartment a few hours later, coming back from hanging out with Steve, who, as every birthday week of his, was tasked with keeping him busy and out of the apartment if needed.

“Bunny! I’m home!” Bucky exclaimed, peeling off his jacket.

“In my room!” You shouted without peeking out.

You heard him padding around the apartment, and just as you predicted, he opened your door seconds later.

“Bunny…” Bucky mumbled, flabbergasted.

You were standing just outside of your bathroom, resting with one hand extended towards the wall. You were wearing a white lacy set of lingerie, paired with an open silky translucent robe that framed your body. On top of your head, like a crown of a queen, were the same bunny ears that you had been wearing the night you met.

“Happy early birthday, Buck.” You said with a smirk.

“Angel…” He said, mouth dry.

“Wasn't I your Bunny?” You pouted.

“You look like an angel.” You chuckled, walking barefoot towards him. “I have died, and I’m in heaven.”

“Easy, you're not dead yet.” You stopped in front of him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His hands shot to hold your naked waist to keep you steady; he didn't remove them even when your heels touched the floor. “This ain't your birthday gift, though; this is a sneak peek at your party tomorrow. You have to pick a costume.”

His eyes widened. “You’ll be wearing this tomorrow?”

“The bunny ears. But this will be under the dress.” You winked at him.

And he whimpered.

He actually whimpered.

“That's torture. Do you know how hard it would be to keep my hands away from you, knowing that?”

Maybe you don't need to. You wanted to say.

“Someone will have to restrain me so I don't end up giving a show out there.” He added.

You laughed.

“Yeah, maybe you should keep that for the bedroom.”

“Or at least until we are alone.”

“Smart.”

“Is that why you're showing me now?” He asked, his hands pulling you closer to him, forcing you to look up to meet his eyes. “To taunt me.”

You nodded. “That, and because I wanted to try out something.”

“What?” He scanned your face, stopping for several seconds at your lips.

You took it as a green light.

You stood again on your tiptoes, resting your hands over his shoulder and the nape of his neck.

And then you kissed him.

He gasped in your mouth, but then he melted in the kiss, cupping your head to control the angle, deepening the kiss.

Heat spread all over your body, overheating you to the point you felt like you were on fire. Without leaving his lips, you removed your robe and then pulled him from his collar, guiding him to your bed until he was lying over you.

“Bunny… the rules.” He said, pulling himself away from your lips, a pained look on his face.

“Forget them.” You guided him back to you, and he surrendered.

Your hands traveled around his body, touching whenever they could reach, pulling at his clothes to remove them.

“I want to feel you.” You whimpered.

“Okay.” He nodded, kissing your neck. He removed his shirt; his jeans followed shortly after, landing near his shoes and socks.

“Boxers too.” You mumbled against the crook of his neck.

Kissing and nipping the tender skin and making him groan.

He lay naked over you, your legs parted and hugging his hips, pulling him close until he could feel the growing wetness in your panties. Bucky moaned in your mouth, as you bucked your hips; the friction over his erection made him see stars.

This was new.

You knew it. He knew it.

Even when he fucked your thighs, he was never that close to your pussy. And when you were in a similar position, there were always at least two layers of clothes between you.

His hips rutted against you, and then you guided your hand between your bodies, pulling your panties to the side.

He gave you a puzzled look.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“More than anything. I want to feel you.”

He whimpered, and after a nod, he resumed his grinding. You mewled as his heavy cock glided between your folds, kissing your clit with each dive.

“More, I need more.” You moaned. “Please, Bucky, give it to me.”

Bucky sat on his heels, looking down at your squirming figure, but you followed him up, meeting his lips in a passionate kiss. He got distracted, lost in your lips, to the point that when you pulled apart to lie back down, your panties and bra were gone, your glistening pussy exposed, weeping to have him inside.

The groan that left him was borderline animalistic. Knelt before you, he grabbed his cock with his fist and began rocking his hips, the tip of his cock hitting your clit with more pressure and precision. You spread yourself open for him, with your hands hooked behind your knees and holding your legs up.

“Bucky, please.” You groaned.

“What do you need, Bunny?”

“You, please, inside.”

He whined, “Bunny, no…”

“Why not?” You cried out.

“The rules.” He said simply.

“Fuck the rules.” You groaned. “I want you, all of you. Please, Bucky.” You begged.

He stilled his hips, needing to focus and think with his brain and not his other head. Because he wanted to feel you, too, bury himself in your heat.

“What if you regret it?” He searched your eyes, his concern only confirming what you already knew.

“I won't.” You worked to steady your breath. “Because I’ve been wanting these since I met you. Especially once I realized how much I love you.”

He shifted, too lost in his mind to realize he had done it, making his cock nuzzle between your folds and kiss your clit. You swallowed your moan.

“You love me?” His blue eyes, obscured by his desire, were bright with unshed tears.

You nodded frantically, and a chuckle escaped you, letting go of the strain of your legs but keeping yourself open. “So much it made me scared to lose you and stop myself from saying it out loud.” You confessed.

“Bunny —” He looked at you with a bright smile. “You don't have any idea of how much I love you.”

“I think I might have.” You smiled. “And I’m pretty sure that anyone who has met both of us knows how much we love each other.”

“Do you think that me gifting you flowers, any chance that I had, was too on the nose?” He scrunched his nose, leaning in and placing a hand next to your head.

You laughed, throwing your head back, making the bunny ears — that until that moment were forgotten — shift, and dig into your skull. Bucky noticed the discomfort in your face and reached out to place the bunny ears back in place.

“Yeah, probably. But me throwing myself in your arms right after might have contributed.” You said, lost in the tender way he looked at you.

“So we are both idiots, keeping each other away from what makes us happy.”

“Pretty much.”

“What now?” He looked at you.

“Well, right now we can continue what we were doing.” You bucked your hips, feeling the delicious drag of his cock against you. “After that, we can talk more about it, but let me tell you, I’m tired of the rules, tired of being a dirty secret, tired of loving you in the shadows.”

“I agree.”

“Do you want to be—” You clamped your hand over his mouth.

“Don't you dare ask me to be your girlfriend when we are about to have sex.” You threatened, and then you removed your hand.

“Later then.” He smiled. “Where were we?” He knitted his brows, feigning ignorance.

“I don't know, where do you think we were?” You teased.

“I think, Bunny.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with each word he said. “I was about to fuck you.” His smug smile was bright when he pulled back enough to see your reaction. “Am I right?”

“Mhm.”

“Tell me if you need me to stop or change anything.” He instructed, lining himself with your entrance.

“Wait.” You gasped when you felt his tip tease your opening. He stopped, pulling back away from you. “Slow, please… You are big.”

He nodded, and then he pushed inside. Your mouth gaped, feeling your walls fluttering around him to accommodate his girth inside you.

“More.” You whined after a few shallow thrusts with only his tip inside you.

He sank deeper, your slick adding to the intrusion. Your hand shot to grip his forearm next to your head.

“You’re taking me so well, Bunny.” He praised. “My pretty Bunny, so wet and tight for me. Breathe, baby, you can do it.”

You mewled, feeling him reach deeper until he was buried to the hilt.

“That's it, so good, such a good bunny.” His voice cracked, pleasure ripping down his spine after a few thrusts.

Your legs returned to the initial position. Spread open, legs up. You felt him reach deeper, each drag adding pressure to your sweet spot.

“Oh fuck, right there.” You whined.

His pace fastened, tightening the coil in your belly with each drill of his hips. He rocked your entire body, making your breasts jiggle with each movement that made your ass hit his thighs, to the point that if he hadn't been holding you in place, he would've already pushed you out of bed.

You were creaming around him, mixing with his precum, forming a ring of slick at the bottom of his cock. The wet clap of skin against skin was loud, mixing with your moans and cries.

“Oh, Bunny, you feel so good. You're gripping me so tight, you don't want to let go, don't you? You want me to stay right there, nuzzled inside you.”

“Yes, ah, yes!” You cried out, wrapping your legs around him with a leglock, heels pressing his butt.

“Bunny, baby, I need to pull out,” Bucky said, groaning.

“Cum inside me, please, breed me.”

“Oh, Bunny.” He whimpered, his self-control snapping like a twig. “Is this why you said no penetration before — mmm, because you knew how much you'll want my cum inside you.”

You nodded.

“Please, I need it.”

His pace grew more erratic; he leaned in, arms braced so he could piston harder. Your arms wrapped around him, nails digging in his skin.

He knew very well that you were on the pill since long before you met him; still, the fantasy of getting you pregnant, marking you as his for the world to see, was making him dizzy in pleasure.

You were babbling now, too cockdrunk to even speak without slurring words that weren't yes, please, Bucky, fill me.

“Such a needy, Bunny.” He taunted you. “Come for me, baby, let me feel you.”

He felt you coming around him first, then he saw your pretty face contorted with pleasure.

Mouth hanging open.

Lips trembling.

Brows knitted.

Your legs trembled as you came, gushing around his cock. Your back arched.

And finally, he achieved what he had only been dreaming of. He kissed you, swallowing your moans.

Your climax triggered his, milking him as he spilled his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. His hips jerked; shallow thrusts made to pump his cum inside you and make it stay there.

“That’s it, Bunny. Take every drop.” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You slurred, still on the peak of your climax that had prolonged with the joy of being bred.

You came down slowly, falling back into his arms as he cooed praises. He stayed buried inside you, just shifting enough to make you moan, and making sure not a single drop was wasted.

“That was…”

“Intense.” Bucky completed.

“Very much. When can we repeat?” You joked, making him laugh over you.

“My bunny and her jokes, I swear.” He kissed your lips. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you more.” You giggled when he kept peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

He pulled back slightly so he could see your whole face. “Are you okay?” he asked, straightening the bunny ears again.

“Never have been better, but I think my legs are cramped now.”

“Shit, Bunny!”

Bucky quickly straightened his back, bringing you up with him until you were sitting in his lap; the shift made some cum drip around his cock and down to the sheets.

“Better?” He kissed your shoulder, and as you got comfortable with your arms around him, he placed one hand on the curve of your ass, and the other caressed down your spine with lazy strokes.

You nodded, feeling sleepy and satisfied.

“Happy early birthday, Bucky.” You mumbled, reciprocating the caresses on his broad back.

“Thank you, Bunny. Best birthday present.” You nuzzled into his neck. “We are gonna have to explain a lot tomorrow.”

You considered lying, but you knew it would eventually come out.

“Yelena already knows.” You confessed. “She rage-baited me today until I spilled it out. I didn't tell her all the details — but she inferred we were sleeping together. She also helped me see how stupid I was not to tell you how I feel.”

He hummed.

“Why do you look so calm about it?” You narrowed your eyes at him, meeting his eyes and watching him blush. “Barnes?”

“Sam and Steve also know, superficially, nothing in detail. They've been nudging me to confess how much I love you for the past year, but I didn't want to risk our friendship.”

“Oh God, I can't believe our brain cells canceled each other.” You whined, mortified.

“If it helps, you're way smarter than I am; you at least made us progress — I was about to take my feelings to my grave.”

You slapped his arm. “Dumbass.”

He laughed.

“Ready to move?” You nodded against his shoulder. “What do you think about a bubble bath, soaking there until we look like raisins, and then we watch that movie you told me last time? I bought that ice cream you love.”

“Fuck me, you know me so well.”

“Of course I do, I’m your best friend.” He kissed your temple. “And your future boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are.” You smiled at him, and before he helped you stand up, you kissed him.

You were getting addicted to his kisses, you realized, which in part was great because you had so much time to make up for that you would be surprised if you ever were more than a few minutes without feeling his lips on you.

Time for new house rules.

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if you liked it, feel free to leave a like, rb, a comment, or an ask! I'd love to read your thoughts!

[blowingbarnes]

this is all I have to say. PUT IT IN, BUCKY. PUT IT IN.

[bodeckerhedron]

SEBASTIAN STAN as CHRIS

➤• DESTROYER (2018) DIR. KARYN KUSAMA

[tuiccim]

Solace (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: Angst, flirts, kisses, truth or dare.

Summary: You are Bucky’s source of comfort and he’s your source of heartbreak.

Solace Complete Series Masterlist

The next morning you were working out in the training room with the others when your phone goes off. Grabbing a towel and the phone, your face lights up when you see who is calling. 

“Hey Jack!” You are grinning as you exit the training room to talk to your best friend. 

“Hello, dearest! It’s been a minute. How are you doing?” Lady Jacqueline “Jackie” Falsworth’s beautiful British accent comes through.. 

“I’m doing pretty good. How about you?” You reply.

“Simply marvelous. Especially since I’ll be in New York two days from now.” Jackie says. You can hear her grin through the phone. 

“Really?” You squeal. “This is perfect! Tony is having one of his big parties this week. I’ll add you to the guest list. Please say you’ll come. It will be so much fun with you there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. One of Tony Stark’s famous parties with my best friend. We’ll tear the place up.” Jackie laughs. 

You spend the next hour on the phone with Jackie making plans for her visit. 

Bucky watches you reach for your ringing phone from the other side of the training room. A smile lights up your face as you go to answer it and his heart twists. When he hears your joyous “Hey Jack!” from across the room he feels sick to his stomach. You must have taken Rollins up on his offer. He begins punching his bag in earnest and, with a particularly angry jab, sends it flying across the room. 

Keep reading

[vibraniumqueen]

Not the Invader and Spitfire references 🤣

[myjetpack]

My latest books cartoon for The Guardian. Many more here: www.theguardian.com/profile/tom-gauld

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[foxes-in-love]

[curoopeez]

I don't want my cellphone to have AI I want it to have 3 days of battery time. I don't want my computer to have AI preinstalled I want it to have seven usb ports and high ram at affordable price. I don't want my games to have AI built levels I want them to be so optimized I could run them on a nokia.

[holylulusworld]

Walkered (4): Salvation

Summary: You’re getting on his nerves. Right?

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Warnings: sub/dom, mentions of subspace, pet names, sir kink, tension, teasing, thigh riding

Catch up here: Walkered (3): Liberation

Walkered masterlist

“Go ahead, princess. I want to watch you make yourself cum. If I like what I see, you’ll be mine forever.” August leaves no room for discussion. He looks at you, his eyes darker than usual.

August doesn’t tell you that he’d never let you slip through his fingers, but he loves the power play too much.

Your heart races looking at August. He’s still the man ordering you around and yelling at you, but now, you feel grounded and safe with him.

“Don’t leave me waiting,” he warns. His hands grip your hips a little tighter to press your bare sex against the rough fabric of his slacks. A reminder that he’s in charge.

“Yes, Sir,” you shakily reply.

“Start slow,” his voice is so low and commanding that you are about to cum right there and then. “I want to see every spark I ignite. If you want to stop, say red. That should do for now.”

“Red,” you reply, earning a low growl from August. “Understood, Sir.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for another heartbeat before you begin to move. You’re grinding against the solid muscle beneath you, moaning loudly as you feel your clit start to thrum.

Your orgasm builds quickly, and you can already feel the familiar warmth spread through your abdomen. August watches your every move, eyes locked on your face.  

Right when you pick up the pace to chase your orgasm, he tightens his hold on your hips again, holding you still. “You won’t get to cum so fast. Do it slower.”

You whine but obediently nod. August is in charge, and if you want this relationship to work out, you must show him how good you can be for him.

August loosens his hold on your hips, allowing you to ride his thigh harder. The pressure is just right. Your breath is coming in short bursts. You close your eyes, whimpering as the high you were chasing was taken away from you again.

His hand comes up to your face to cup your cheek. He only looks at you, smirking as you slow down again.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice softening for only a moment. You fall against his chest, frustrated and aching for release, but the praise makes you feel warm.

He doesn’t stop, though. August gave you a moment to calm, only for him to tell you to keep grinding. Again. And again. And again.

He wants you to break; you don’t cum without permission. August just stares at you, calculating, waiting for you to break. But you don’t.

“That’s a good girl for me,” he murmurs, gently stroking your sides as you are so close to your orgasm it almost hurts.

“Please, August... I need it.”

You are about to say red when he looks you in the eyes and tells you, “Come for me.”

You surge forward, riding with abandon, until your orgasm finally shatters you. Weak and exhausted, you fall against his chest again, crying silently.

August held you close, his hands gently stroking your back and hair. “You did so well,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. He waits for you to come down and listens to your breathing.

You sigh against him, allowing yourself to bask in his warmth and care. “I did well?” You murmur, wondering if he tries to tease you again. “Really?”

“Very well, Y/N. No other woman was so good for me. Ever,” he says, reassuringly. “Now, let’s get you to bed. It was a long and exhausting day for you.”

August ran a warm bath for you. He helped you eat and rehydrate before carrying you inside his bedroom. You’re the first sub allowed to stay with him. August usually brings them home after a session.

“You’ll stay with me,” he simply states. There’s no room for arguments. August found his perfect submissive and won’t give up on you. “Tomorrow, we will get more of your things. I’ll handle your lease and everything.”

“You want me to move in here…permanently. I thought this was just…” You don’t know what to think. August is the dominant you were looking for, but he’s still the man who hated you the most not so long ago.

“I need to know you’re safe all the time. At work, I can keep an eye on you. After work, it’d be difficult if you are not near me. I can’t have anything happen to you,” he says, joining you on the bed. August possessively wraps himself around your body. He buries his face in your neck, teasing your soft spot with his lips. “No man can even lay his eyes on you…”