lokis-chaos-corner - Tumblr blog

lokis-chaos-corner · 15 days ago

Text

Darling

Reader x cacw Bucky

Summary: You join the Avengers right before they're torn apart by the Sokovia Accords. You join Cap's team, and end up stuck in a safe house with Bucky, slowly earning his trust.

Word Count: 7,315

You literally just became an Avenger last week, and the team was already falling apart.

You just got into the swing of things, and now the Sokovia Accords were sitting on the table in front of you in the conference room, dividing the team in half.

You had to admit, you agreed with Steve. Not that you would say anything out loud though. You were just sitting off to the side, wishing you could disappear. Which, you probably could. You weren’t sure if half the team even knew your name.

The next couple days were a blur. Everyone was still arguing about the Accords, then everyone had to travel to London for Peggy Carter’s funeral.

After the ceremony, you were milling around in the church lobby, debating whether or not you should go talk to Steve after Natasha was done talking to him. While Nat was walking out, you gave her a slight smile and nod, and she stopped.

“Hey. Y/n, right?”

You paused, surprised that she was talking to you. “Uh, yeah.”

“Are you coming with us to sign the Accords?”

You froze. You knew you couldn’t sign the Accords. You agreed with Steve on this one. But you didn’t want to admit that to her. But you also couldn’t tell her yes, knowing that she’d be expecting you there then.

She noticed your pause and raised an eyebrow.

“Umm…no I don’t think so,” you said finally.

“Have you talked to Steve about it?” she asked.

“No. I was debating whether or not I should talk to him now actually.”

“Well, I think you should. He’ll be happy to know someone else is with him on it.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just nodded.

She just smiled at you, then looked you up and down.

“You know,” she started, “most rookies probably wouldn’t have the guts to choose a side on something like this.”

You just huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Guess I chose the wrong time to join, huh?”

“Guess you did,” she agreed, laughing. “I’m glad you did though. I like you.”

You just smiled, feeling accomplished at that comment. “Thank you.”

She gave you a pat on the shoulder before walking away, back towards the others. Then, you took a deep breath before walking back into the church to talk to Steve.

“Hey Steve.”

“Oh, hey y/n,” he replied, smiling at you.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“I also wanted to tell you that I’m not signing the Sokovia Accords.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I agree with what you said. I think it’s better if we didn’t sign.”

“You don’t have to agree with me it you truly don’t want to,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I want you to be dragged into this. I mean, you did just join the team.”

“I know,” you said, smiling at him. “But I’m with you on this one. If you need my help, just let me know.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Well, thank you.” He gave you a smile and patted you on the shoulder, looking like a proud dad.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” you said, backing away.

“See ya. I’ll probably be calling you.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

And sure enough, he did call you. Which is how you found yourself leaning out the window of a random car, chasing Bucky Barnes down the highway while the Black Panther was hot on your tail.

You watched as Bucky grabbed a motorcycle mid-motion and turned it around, hopping on and driving in the opposite direction.

You knew he was a super soldier, but that was impressive…and kinda hot.

You trailed after him, and when you were close enough, you didn’t think, just jumped. Out of the car window and onto the back of Bucky’s motorcycle.

He jerked slightly from the unexpected weight, and you wrapped your arms around him so you didn’t fall off. His grip tightened on the handlebars, and he just kept driving like a man with tunnel vision.

“Hey!” you yelled over the wind, leaning forward to speak near his ear. “I’m not here to hurt you!”

No response. He swerved around a car, eyes laser-focused on the road ahead.

“I’m here to help you, okay? Steve sent me!” you tried again, gripping tighter around his waist as the bike took a sharp turn. “You don’t know me, I get it - but you’re not alone!”

Still nothing. Not even a glance.

“I know you don’t remember much right now. I know everything’s a mess. But Steve, he’s trying to help you. And so am I.”

The motorcycle jumped over a curb, dodging traffic like it was instinct. You gritted your teeth and held on tighter.

“I know you’ve probably heard a lot of lies about yourself. That you’re dangerous. That you can’t be trusted.” You swallowed hard, hoping you didn’t sound too breathless. “But I don’t believe that. Steve doesn’t either. You’re not a weapon. You’re a person.”

You caught him flinch at that. Barely. But it was something.

“Just…let me stay on this bike with you. You don’t have to stop. You don’t even have to talk to me. Just let me make sure you don’t crash and bleed out in a ditch somewhere, alright?”

Silence.

But he didn’t shake you off. He didn’t tell you to jump. He didn’t even look back. He just kept going, navigating the streets like he’d been born on two wheels.

You exhaled shakily, letting your forehead rest briefly between his shoulder blades. “There’s a safe house I can take you to, you’ll be safe there. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

And though he never said a word, something in his body shifted - just barely. His shoulders loosened a fraction. His breathing evened out. And for the first time since you jumped on the back of the bike, he didn’t feel like he was running blind.

After a few minutes, when you made sure you weren’t still being followed and finally figured out where you were again, you started giving him directions to the safe house. He still didn’t say anything, but he followed your directions.

About 20 minutes later, you pulled up in front of a secluded cabin, miles from any other building or town. He pulled the motorcycle around the back of the house and cut the engine, getting off before you had the chance to say anything.

He turned around and looked at you, but you were still sitting on the bike, trying to push the hair out of your face and smooth it down. There was some in your mouth, and you know you probably looked weird to him, sticking your tongue out and spitting, trying to push all your hair back.

You finally got it and stepped off the motorcycle, and his eyes didn’t leave you.

“Hey, sorry about that. I’m y/n.” You thought about putting your hand out to shake his, but decided against it since he probably wouldn’t take it anyway.

“Sorry about like, jumping on you back there. But I’m on a team with Steve, like I said, and this is one of our safe houses. I’ll let Steve know we’re here and he’ll let us know what to do next.”

You gave him a smile, trying to be as friendly as possible. You made your way over to the door, putting in the code you got from Steve, then opened it up and turned back to Bucky.

“Come on in,” you said, stepping in the door. He followed you inside, and you let out a little breath of relief. He may not be saying anything but at least he seemed to trust you.

You scanned the cabin, and even though it was small, it was pretty nice. It looked overgrown on the outside, but they obviously kept it clean and stocked for emergencies.

You sent Steve a quick text, then took off your jacket and threw it over the back of a chair at the tiny kitchen island, then immediately started going through cupboards.

Bucky had stepped inside and closed the door, and just stood a couple steps away from you, watching.

“Do you want something to eat? You’re probably starving.” You came across some cans of soup and held one up. “Do you want some soup?”

Again, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you.

“Umm…okay. Well, I’ll make you a bowl.”

You grabbed another can, then opened drawers until you found the can opener, then found two bowls. You busied yourself with opening the cans before popping one of the bowls in the microwave. When it was done, you grabbed a spoon and slid the bowl onto the island in front of a chair.

When you turned back to Bucky, he was still standing there, still looking at you.

“There, you can have the first one.”

He finally moved, sitting down in the chair while you put the other bowl in the microwave. When it was done, you sat down in the other chair and took a bite, then noticed Bucky hadn’t touched his yet.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Мне не дали разрешения (I was not given permission).”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what he was saying. Maybe you should’ve studied Russian.

“What? Sorry, I don’t understand Russian.”

He just looked at you for a second, then repeated it in English.

“I was not given permission.”

Your heart twisted at his words. The way he said it – flat, automatic, like it was a rule carved into him – made your chest ache.

You slowly set your spoon down and looked at him, frowning. “Hey…” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t need permission anymore.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, guarded, unsure.

“You’re not under anyone’s control,” you continued. “Not anymore. You can eat, rest, breathe – live – without asking anyone first. You’re free, Bucky.”

He didn’t say anything, but he stared at you a moment longer. Then, slowly, he gave the faintest of nods. Just once. But it was enough to make your throat tighten.

Without another word, he picked up the spoon and started eating. You didn’t say anything else, just watched him, relieved to see him finally taking care of himself – even if it was just soup.

And he ate fast. He finished the bowl in record time, like he hadn’t eaten in days. You were barely halfway through your own when you looked up and blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” you said, eyebrows raised, your tone light and a little teasing, trying to ease the heavy air in the room. “You really were hungry.”

You caught a flicker of something across his face – so brief you weren’t sure if it was amusement or just a muscle twitch – but it made you smile anyway.

You took another bite of your soup and leaned your elbow on the table. “We’ve got more, if you want it. And I think there’s even coffee somewhere in this place, if you’re the kind of guy who runs on caffeine.”

He didn’t respond, but the silence didn’t feel as tense anymore. It was still quiet, still uncertain, but there was something else now too. A thread of something warmer…something like trust.

By the time you finished the last bite of your soup, Bucky had already set his spoon down and was quietly watching you again, bowl empty.

You glanced at it, then back at him. “Do you want some more?”

He hesitated for a beat, then gave a small nod.

You smiled, standing up and walking over to the cupboard again. “Alright, let’s see…” You grabbed another can of soup, holding it up in your hand before turning back to him. “Do you want me to make it, or…do you want to try?”

He looked at you, eyes flicking to the can in your hand, then to the microwave behind you, clearly uncertain. Like he wanted to say yes but wasn’t sure how.

You stepped a little closer, gently placing the can on the island in front of him. “Totally your call,” you said casually. “But if you do want to try, I can walk you through it. It’s pretty simple. Not super spy-level stuff or anything.”

Still unsure, he looked down at the can, then back at you. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t back away either. So you took that as a yes.

“Okay,” you said, voice gentle. You grabbed the can opener and set it next to the can. “This thing looks more complicated than it is, I promise. See this part here?” You pointed at the blade. “That’s what pierces the top. You just line it up with the edge of the lid and squeeze the handles together.”

He picked it up slowly, awkwardly, like he was worried he’d break it. You helped guide his hand, showing him how to clamp it onto the can.

“There you go. Now just turn the knob – yep, like that.”

The opener made a soft grinding sound as the blade cut through the lid. You smiled, watching him slowly get the hang of it.

“Nice. See? Easy. Way less terrifying than fighting a guy in a catsuit on a freeway.”

He glanced at you briefly, but there was something a little looser in his posture now.

Once the can was open, you slid his bowl over and stepped aside.

“You want to pour it in?”

He did, carefully. You saw his eyes flicker toward the microwave again.

“Alright,” you said, walking over to it. “This part’s even easier. You just put the bowl in, close the door, and press this button here.” You tapped the 1. “Each press adds one minute. Two minutes should be good.”

He followed your instructions, and you stood by him, resisting the urge to hover too close.

“There,” you said once the microwave started humming. “You’ve officially made your first post-fugitive meal. Not bad, Barnes.”

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened. Maybe it was the way his shoulders relaxed. Maybe it was how he didn’t immediately retreat from you. Either way, you’d take it.

You leaned against the counter and gave him a small grin. “Told you – you don’t need permission. You just needed soup.”

And for a split second, you could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

When the microwave beeped, he pressed the one again, making it hum back to life.

“Good job,” you said, giving him another smile as he glanced over toward you again.

When it beeped again, he opened the door and pulled it out, shutting the door again and carrying it back to the counter, setting it down carefully as he sat down.

“There you go. Pretty soon you’ll be cooking five course meals.”

He gave you a small smile – an actual smile – then dug into his soup, eating it just as quickly as the last. You just washed out your bowl then leaned against the counter, watching him eat.

When he finished, he looked up at you.

“Thank you.”

You smiled at him. “Of course.”

You took his bowl and rinsed it out, then turned back to the counter, picking up your phone, finding a text from Steve.

Okay, glad you’re safe. Just stay there for the night, we’ll meet up again tomorrow. Unless you’d rather not be alone with him, then I can come up.

You glanced up at Bucky, who was still watching you. “Steve said we could just stay here for the night. You okay with that?”

He nodded, so you texted Steve back.

No that’s fine, Bucky also said that’s okay. I taught him how to use a can opener so we’re basically besties now

You smiled a little at your response, then set your phone down. “Okay. Do you want to shower? Or take a bath?”

His eyes finally left you, glancing toward the bathroom then back at you, like he was unsure.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just thought it might help you feel better.”

He looked at you a little while longer, then slowly nodded. “Bath.”

You smiled softly. “Okay, I’ll go start the water.”

You pushed off the counter, heading to the bathroom and turning the water on and plugging the drain. As the tub filled, you made your way to the bedroom, finding extra clothes for him to change into. You grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that both looked brand new, then walked back to the bathroom.

Bucky was standing outside the bathroom door now, looking in cautiously.

“It’s okay,” you said, walking into the bathroom and setting the clothes on the counter. “You can come in.”

He stepped inside as you turned the water off, then grabbed a washcloth.

“Here’s a washcloth you can use, and there’s body wash and shampoo here,” you said, pointing to the little shelf in the shower and setting the washcloth on the side of the tub. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He just nodded, so you stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

A little while later, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone when you heard Bucky say something in Russian, loud enough so you could hear through the closed door. You jumped up and made your way over, knocking on the door.

“Bucky? You okay?”

He was quiet for a beat, then said, “I need help.”

You slowly opened the door, peeking in to see him sitting in the tub, back to you.

“Hey, Bucky. What do you need?”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, looking embarrassed. “My hair.”

You glanced up at his hair, which was still completely dry. “Do you need help washing it?”

He nodded.

“Okay, give me one second.”

You went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, then headed back into the bathroom, sitting on the side of the tub as Bucky kept his back to you.

“Can you tilt your head back for me?” you asked, dipping the cup into the warm water. He did, and you slowly dumped water onto his hair, careful that it didn’t drip down his face.

You did that a couple more times, then grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into your hand. You rubbed the shampoo between your hands before gently starting to work it through his thick hair, taking your time so it didn’t tangle.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, fingers massaging gently at his scalp. “I don’t mind. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders slowly began to relax under your touch, and you took that as a good sign.

“This stuff smells good,” you added after a moment, trying to keep things light so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. “Citrusy. Kinda reminds me of those little hotel bottles you never want to admit smell amazing.”

You lathered carefully, making sure not to pull or snag any of the strands. It was clear no one had done this for him in a long time – maybe ever. You didn’t rush it. You didn’t want to. You just wanted him to feel safe, even in this small, quiet way.

“Okay, I’m going to rinse it now. Tilt your head back again for me?”

He obeyed, and you slowly poured the water over his head in even, careful streams, watching the suds wash away. You kept your hand over his forehead to make sure none of it ran into his eyes.

When the last of the shampoo was rinsed out, you set the cup aside and used both hands to gently squeeze the water from his hair, starting near the top and carefully working your way down to the ends.

“There we go,” you said softly once you were done, brushing some hair off the side of his face. “All clean.”

You stood up and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf, setting it on the counter next to the clothes you’d brought earlier. “I’ll let you finish up. Just yell if you need anything.”

As you started to turn, he looked over his shoulder slightly. “Thank you,” he said again – quiet, but sincere.

You offered him a warm smile, your hand gently resting on the doorframe for a second. “Anytime, Bucky.”

Then you stepped out and closed the door behind you, giving him space to dry off and, hopefully, feel a little more human again.

You sat back down on the couch, picking up your phone again. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and he spoke in Russian again, the same thing he said earlier.

“Любимая (darling)?”

You looked up to see him standing in the doorway, dressed in the clothes you left for him. “Yeah?” you said, getting up and walking over.

He held out his towel and pointed at the bathtub. “I’m done. How do I…”

He trailed off, so you took his towel from him then stepped inside.

You hung the towel neatly on the hook behind the bathroom door. “You just have to unplug the drain,” you said, kneeling down beside the tub. You reached in and showed him the small metal stopper. “Just lift this part up, and the water will drain out.”

He leaned over the tub to watch, nodding as the water began to swirl and gurgle its way down. You looked up and gave him a smile. “Easy, right?”

He nodded again, and you stood up, moving to one of the drawers under the sink. You opened it and pulled out a small pack containing a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. You opened the toothbrush pack and tossed the cardboard into the trash before setting it and the toothpaste on the counter.

Then you turned and held the brush out toward him. “Do you wanna brush your hair? Or – I can do it…if you want.”

He looked at the brush for a moment, then met your eyes. “Can you?”

Your expression softened. “Yeah, of course.” You pointed to the floor in front of you. “Come kneel down. It’s easier for me to reach.”

He hesitated only slightly before kneeling in front of you, back straight but body still cautious, like he wasn’t used to the care being offered. You stepped behind him, gently running your fingers through his damp hair first, untangling a few sections before beginning to brush. You moved slowly, careful not to pull, watching the way his shoulders started to relax again as you worked.

“You’ve got really nice hair, y’know,” you said quietly, brushing through it in long, smooth strokes. “Kind of unfair, honestly.”

That earned the faintest huff of a breath – maybe a laugh – making you smile.

A few minutes later, you finished and set the brush down. “All done,” you said, smoothing down the top once more.

He turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder at you. “Thank you, Любимая (darling).”

You blinked, your lips curling into an amused smile. “Okay, you’ve said that before. I recognize it. What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer at first, his eyes flickering down before he simply murmured, “It’s your name.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard. “Well…that’s kinda cool.”

He looked back up and gave you a small smile.

“Well, I’ll let you brush your teeth, then I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

He gave you a nod, then you stepped out and went back to the bedroom to find clothes for yourself. As you pulled out the same sweatpants and t-shirt in your size, your gaze drifted toward the bed…the singular bed.

You frowned, wondering how you were going to approach the sleeping situation. But you decided you’d just sleep on the couch, giving him his space.

You made your way back to the bathroom as Bucky stepped out.

“Knock if you need anything, okay?”

He nodded, and you closed the bathroom door, then turned on the shower.

You showered quickly, then pulled out your own pack to brush your teeth and comb your hair. When you finished, you pulled open the bathroom door to find Bucky sitting on the floor right outside the door.

He stood immediately when you opened the door, his posture straight and alert like he’d been on watch.

You furrowed your brow. “You could’ve sat on the couch, y’know?”

He shook his head. “I was guarding the door.”

Your heart pinched at that. The sincerity in his voice, the way he said it like it was the only thing he knew to do – it made you ache a little.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” you said gently. “But…I appreciate it.”

He just gave a small nod in response.

You gave him a soft smile, then walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed your phone. “Come on,” you said, heading for the bedroom. He followed close behind you.

You stepped into the room, glancing again at the single bed. “You can sleep in the bed,” you said, turning toward him.

He frowned, eyes shifting from the bed back to you. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You shrugged. “I’ll take the couch.”

He shook his head immediately. “No. You take the bed.”

“It’s okay,” you started, but he said it again, more firmly this time.

“You take the bed.”

You watched him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay.”

You crossed the room and opened the nightstand drawer, rummaging until you found a charger. You plugged your phone in beside the bed, then climbed under the blanket, settling against the pillow with a quiet sigh.

Bucky stood still for a second, then grabbed a pillow off the bed and laid down on the floor beside it.

You sat up a little, brow furrowed. “Bucky?”

He lifted his head, looking at you.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” you said, voice gentle again.

He didn’t answer, just held your gaze.

You hesitated, then asked softly, “Do you want to sleep on the bed with me?”

His eyes flicked to the bed, then back to you. His voice was quiet. “Is that okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Of course it is.”

He looked at you a moment longer, then crawled up from the floor, placing the pillow back on the bed. He pulled the blanket up and slid under it slowly, still a bit stiff, still unsure.

You shifted slightly to give him space, and once he settled, you glanced over at him with a small smile. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

He looked at you through the dim light, his voice low. “Goodnight Любимая (darling).”

Bucky fell asleep quicker than he expected. The warmth of the blanket, the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him – it had all lulled him into a rare sense of calm. But something changed. A touch. Weight. Movement.

His eyes snapped open, heart hammering against his ribs.

His arm twitched as panic set in, his instincts screaming danger, his mind already preparing to throw off the blanket and bolt.

But then…he remembered.

The cabin. The safe house. Her.

He forced his breathing to slow, blinking as the haze of sleep and instinct gave way to recognition.

Her head was resting on his shoulder. One of her hands was splayed gently over his chest, fingers curled slightly into his shirt. Her leg was draped loosely over his, her body pressed close.

That was all it was. Her.

His muscles relaxed little by little, the tension slowly leaking out of him as he stared up at the ceiling. He could feel her exhale against his skin, warm and soft, and he let out a quiet breath of his own.

She’d rolled over in her sleep. Reached for him like it was natural. Like she wasn’t afraid.

And she wasn’t. That’s what stuck with him.

She wasn’t scared of him. She let him in, helped him, fed him, taught him how to use a can opener for God’s sake, and when he needed help, even if he was too ashamed to ask for it, she didn’t make him feel small. She just helped.

And now she was curled up against him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He turned his head slightly, looking down at her. Her face was peaceful, relaxed, framed by her hair that was still a little damp from her shower. She looked so soft like this. Trusting.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that.

His eyes drifted back to the ceiling, and he let his hand settle lightly against her arm, careful not to wake her. She shifted just a little, burrowing closer, and he felt a flutter of something unfamiliar in his chest.

Gratitude. Maybe even hope.

He thought about earlier – about the way her eyebrows had lifted, the little smile that played at her lips when he told her darling was her name.

She had no idea.

She didn’t know he’d forgotten her name for a second, which is why he resorted to calling her that. He wasn’t sure why, but it just felt right. So, even after he remembered her name, he continued calling her darling. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Just…her.

And somehow, even without knowing, she still made him feel like he mattered. Like he was someone worth staying close to.

His eyes closed again, and for the first time in what felt like years, he let himself drift back to sleep – with her weight resting against him, her hand on his chest like a tether.

And in that moment, it felt like everything would be okay.

You blinked awake slowly, the morning light peeking in through the thin curtains. It took a second to realize where you were – and another to realize how you were lying.

Your head was resting against something solid and warm…and breathing.

You froze slightly, glancing down to see your hand on someone’s chest. Your leg slung over someone else’s.

Oh no.

You tilted your head up just enough to see his face.

Bucky.

He was still asleep, his face relaxed in a way you didn’t think you’d seen before. His brow wasn’t furrowed. His jaw wasn’t tense. He actually looked…peaceful.

A tiny pang hit your chest, part fondness, part embarrassment. You must’ve rolled over in your sleep, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. Especially after how careful he’d been last night.

You slowly, carefully turned away, trying not to disturb him as you pulled yourself out of his arms. The bed dipped lightly as you shifted, but he didn’t stir.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you saw a message from Steve, letting you know where to meet. You typed back a quick reply, and just as you hit send, you heard movement behind you. Bucky stirred, shifting slightly on the bed. When you glanced over, his eyes were fluttering open.

“Hey,” you said softly, offering a small smile. “Good morning.”

He blinked a few times before nodding. “Morning.”

You stretched a bit, then added, “Steve texted. We’ll leave as soon as we’re both ready.”

He gave another quiet nod.

You stood and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, splashing some water on your face, and tying your hair back before changing into your clothes from yesterday.

When you came back out, you paused in the doorway.

Bucky was making the bed.

He’d already straightened the blanket and was adjusting the pillows with slow, deliberate movements, like he was concentrating on doing it exactly right. Like it mattered.

A soft smile tugged at your lips.

“Thank you,” you said gently.

He looked over his shoulder at you, gave a small nod, then stepped around the bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready himself.

You watched him go, heart tugging again.

A few minutes later, you were putting the charger back in the drawer when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around and saw Bucky walking back into the bedroom.

He had changed back into the clothes from the day before, but his hair was still a complete mess – sticking up in the back and flattened on one side from sleeping. You couldn’t help it, you let out a quiet laugh.

“Your hair’s still a mess.”

He paused, looking at you for a second before raising his hand and running it through his hair like he could fix it with one swipe.

You just smiled. “Do you want me to brush it again?”

He looked at you for a beat longer, then gave a small nod. “Yes.”

You stepped past him into the hallway. “Come on.”

He followed you into the bathroom, and you held up the brush from last night. “Can you kneel down again?”

Without hesitation this time, he did.

You gently ran the brush through his hair, taking your time. He stayed still, his eyes closed this time as if he trusted you completely. It was quiet again, but not uncomfortable. Just calm.

When you were done, you gave one last soft brush through the ends and said, “All done.”

He stood slowly and looked at you. “Thank you Любимая (darling).”

You smiled and nodded, keeping the brush in your hand as you led the way back into the bedroom. You crossed over to the closet and pulled down a worn book bag from the top shelf, unzipping it and carefully placing the brush inside along with the clothes you both wore last night. Once it was zipped, you slung it over your shoulder and turned toward him.

“You ready to go?”

“Yes.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, gave him a quick smile, and headed for the door, grabbing your jacket on the way with him right behind you.

He slid onto the motorcycle first, settling in as he started the engine. You climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle without hesitation. He glanced back once, as if to check you were ready, then pulled out of the driveway.

The road ahead was quiet, long stretches of forest blurring past as you rode. After everything the last day had thrown at you both, it felt…peaceful. You didn’t say much – just held on, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your arms.

Eventually, you met back up with Steve and Sam, just before leaving to meet Sharon so they could get their suits back. It wasn’t long before the four of you loaded into a small getaway car, the tight space forcing a slightly awkward arrangement.

When you got there, Steve got out to talk to Sharon, leaving you, Bucky, and Sam in the car.

Sam was in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Bucky was right behind him in the back seat, and you were on the other side.

Bucky stared out the window for a moment, clearly irritated by something. Then he glanced forward.

“Can you move your seat up?” he asked Sam flatly.

“No,” Sam replied, just as flat.

You tried not to smirk. The tension between them was almost comical at this point.

Without another word, Bucky shifted over toward the center seat – right next to you. The car wasn’t exactly spacious, so as soon as he moved, his leg pressed against yours.

He didn’t shift away.

And neither did you.

Your eyes flicked down briefly at the contact. It wasn’t exactly intentional, but it also didn’t feel accidental. You glanced up at him. He was still staring forward, impassive, but his jaw wasn’t quite as tight as before.

The warmth from where his leg touched yours lingered, feeling almost comforting.

You didn’t say anything. Just let it stay that way.

Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport, pulling up beside Clint and Wanda before they opened the back door for Scott. He greeted everyone, then when he got to you, standing behind the car with Bucky, he paused. “Uhh, I don’t know who you are but…hi.”

You gave him a smile before everyone started to suit up, preparing for the fight to come.

After some fighting and a weird encounter with the new spider-kid, you, Steve, and Bucky were finally making a run for it toward the jet. Wanda was holding the debris up so you could get inside, but it came crashing down as soon as you were running in.

Something slammed down behind you, grazing your back and knocking you to the ground with a grunt.

From in front of you, you heard Bucky call out to you. “Любимая (darling)!”

He was beside you in an instant, arms already reaching out to you.

“I’m okay,” you managed, breathless but unhurt. “Just got clipped – didn’t crush me.”

He helped you up quickly, his metal hand firm around your waist as he checked you over with his eyes, panic still evident in his face until he saw you truly were okay.

You got up and continued into the hangar, but Natasha stood in front of you, blocking your path to the jet with a sharp look in her eye. But there was something else flickering there. Amusement?

She tilted her head. “What did you just call her?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Did he just call you Любимая (darling),” Nat repeated, arching a brow.

You glanced sideways at Bucky, confused. “Uhh, yeah? He said that’s my name in Russian.”

Nat smirked. “Uhh, no. That means darling.”

You stared at her, blinking again. Then slowly turned to look at Bucky.

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even flinch. Just looked back at you with a calm, almost gentle expression, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

Nat let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re something else.”

Then, she turned toward Steve with a more serious expression.

“You’re not gonna stop?”

Steve’s voice was calm, steady. “You know I can’t.”

Nat just shook her head. “I’m gonna regret this,” she muttered, before shooting past you and stopping T’Challa.

She yelled go, so you, Steve, and Bucky bolted past her toward the jet.

Your chest heaved as you reached the ramp, Bucky’s hand catching yours to pull you up the last few steps. He didn’t let go until you were safely inside, then the hatch closed behind you.

The rest of the day passed in a blur – arriving in Siberia, finding Zemo, the fight with Tony. Then, a few days later, you were in Wakanda with Steve and Bucky. Bucky was in the bathroom, changing into something more comfortable before they put him back under.

You were sitting down, talking to Steve about what came next, when the bathroom door opened behind you.

Bucky stepped out in white sweatpants and a white tank top, but what really caught your attention was his hair.

Messy again.

You turned in your chair, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. “Your hair,” you said, grinning at him. “It’s all messy again.”

Bucky blinked at you, then gave a small, warm smile like he’d been expecting you to say something. “Yeah?” he said casually. “Think you could brush it for me?”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. “Yeah, I got you.” You reached into the duffel bag you’d packed, then pulled out your brush.

Without hesitation, Bucky stepped over and knelt down in front of you, facing away, relaxed and still, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve’s eyebrows lifted. “Uhh…that’s new.”

You laughed, brushing Bucky’s hair carefully and gently. “It’s not the first time.”

Steve blinked. “Obviously,” he muttered, eyes still flicking between the two of you, looking both amused and confused. Then, with a crooked smirk, he said, “Do I wanna know what all happened in that safe house?”

You chuckled under your breath. “Let’s see…I taught him how to use a can opener, how to make soup, washed his hair, brushed his hair–”

Bucky turned his head slightly and cut in smoothly, “–and then she fell asleep on me.”

You froze, mid-stroke, eyes going wide. “Wait – you were awake?”

He turned around enough to look up at you with a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I woke up when you rolled over. I’m a light sleeper, y’know.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry–”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Don’t be. I slept really good.”

Steve snorted, then started laughing. “You two are unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head.

You just smiled and kept brushing, cheeks warm.

But Steve wasn’t done. “And Bucky,” he said with a knowing look, “can we talk about how you called her darling like it was nothing?”

You paused again, heart doing a little flip as Bucky glanced back at Steve, clearly caught but not really bothered.

“Oh,” he said with a small shrug. “Yeah. I…kind of forgot her name for a second. But she smiled when I said it. So I just…kept calling her that.”

You laughed, a little breathless at how casual he was about it.

Steve, of course, wasn’t letting him off that easy. “Right, forgot her name but remembered ‘darling.’ Classic Barnes move.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just leaned back into your touch, visibly relaxing as you resumed brushing, his eyes slipping shut like the teasing didn’t matter at all.

You didn’t say anything either – just smiled down at him as your fingers moved gently through his hair.

After you finished brushing his hair, you were standing off to the side with Steve, watching as Bucky moved through his final checks. The decision had been made – the safest path forward was for him to go back under, until Wakanda could fully undo what Hydra had done to his mind. You knew it was the right call. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Bucky walked over to Steve first.

They didn’t say much. Steve pulled him in, clapped a hand on his back, and held on a second longer than usual. Bucky returned the gesture silently, with a small nod that said thank you and take care and see you later all at once.

Then he turned to you.

You didn’t expect it, really – not the way his arms wrapped around you the second he reached you, pulling you in tight. Your breath caught, and for a second you just stood there, surprised by the intensity of it. Then your arms found their way around him too, holding him just as tightly.

He didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low beside your ear. “For everything. For taking care of me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat forming fast. “Of course,” you said softly.

He pulled back just a little, enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes searched your face for a second longer than necessary – like he was trying to memorize it – before he gave you the smallest, softest smile.

“Goodbye, Любимая (darling),” he said gently.

Your heart stuttered.

You didn’t speak for a moment. Just returned his smile, warm and a little sad. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

He gave your arms a small squeeze, then turned and walked toward the chamber. You didn’t look away until the glass door closed in front of him.

As Shuri initiated the sequence, you felt the weight of the moment settle into your chest. You’d only known him for a couple of days. Barely long enough to call someone a friend, let alone anything else. But somehow…he’d left a mark already.

And when his eyes fluttered shut, and the lights in the chamber dimmed, the thing that hit you hardest wasn’t the goodbye.

It was the silence that followed.

You already missed him.

And you knew that you were going to miss being called darling, too.

Masterlist

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd

#frothing at the mouth #tbh i never saw the movie these scenes are from #still tho #very nice #bucky x reader

2K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 15 days ago

Text

Purgatory

summary: While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 6.5k warnings: dissociative episode, PTSD symptoms, winter soldier!bucky is clingy and protective af a/n: this is based off a request I got ages ago from @visitneptune. It's not letting me tag you hun, so I hope you still see this!

Bucky stood at the mouth of the jet; the wind rustling violently around him, eager to knock him off his stance, to instill doubt into his body though it was made of stone. His left hand gripped to the handle on the wall; metal seared to metal, crystalline marble. Several hundred feet below laid the ruins of an old Hydra base; its walls coated in graffiti, the foundation left to weather, the hinges to rust. It held his empty stare.

“You sure you’re up for this?” you asked him softly under the roar of the wind. A particularly grueling gust swept through the bridge and you gripped the strap on the back of Bucky’s jacket for support. He was unwavering in its path, though he seemed to soften at your touch. He turned to you then, pressed out a weak smile and nodded.

You released your hold on his jacket, smoothing down the harness with a quick brush against his spine. He shivered as your fingertips grazed over the dip in his back and you bit your lip between your teeth. When you looked up at him again, you tried to force out a smile for him in return, but found the light would not touch your eyes.

The rush of adrenaline was still spiked high in your veins from the last time you heard Bucky scream – the agonizing break in his voice as he desperately clawed himself from the edge of nightmares Hydra had left behind. You could still see the sweat on his forehead, the rapid breaths in his chest, the fresh reflective tracks on his cheeks. You could feel him trembling in your arms, his hands begging for purchase around your body, his repetitive whispers against your neck.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But Bucky was desperate for absolution. He had it in his mind that the only way to atone for the violence he’d done under Hydra’s thumb was to settle the score. To make amends. To undo the carnage he’d once created with every Hydra base he dismantled. He never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel toed boot that had been pressed to his neck, forcing his hand, controlling his mind, suffocating his will. He sought forgiveness for the crimes of his captors. He would not consider that his body was merely the weapon at their disposal.

He wasn’t new to missions where Hydra was at play, but he was often only able to hold it together long enough to wash the blood down the drain before the weight of it split through the cracks. You’d find him curled up on the floor of the shower, rubbing his skin raw in attempt to wash out the red stained to his hands. He wouldn’t speak a word until morning came, wouldn’t sleep for a second. But he’d allow you to hold him, to soothe a hand over his hair, to rest his head against your heart.

You never talked about it. Never named the lingering tension in the room when he crawled out from under your sheets, shamed seeped into his veins. This silent and impenetrable bond you shared. The knowledge that you could pull him from the darkest corners of his mind. That you were a safe place even when he felt the walls were crumbling around him. You never spoke of it, but it remained.

“Nat and I will head to the control room while Sam keeps the jet in the air,” Steve said, a single hand on his hip. The other gripped at the ropes to keep himself steady in face of the wind. He clenched his jaw, a reluctant look upon his face as he turned to Bucky. “Buck, I need you on the lookout for their lab. It’s not marked on the blueprints but if anyone can find it...”

Bucky nodded. No one knew for sure if this was one of the bases he’d been held in as the Winter Soldier, but you supposed it didn’t matter. They all held the same trauma, the same reminders of the horrors he’d faced. The muscle memory alone to step foot in a building where he’d been conditioned down to his bones was an act of violence within itself.

“Y/n, I want you with him,” Steve added, a knowing look shared between you. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Bucky. He was afraid for him the way you were; wanting to protect him from a world that had caused him so much pain. It was a need the both of you shared.

“What’s in this lab anyway?” you asked, changing the subject as you watched Bucky avert his gaze, pink burning in his ears.

“Samples of a pathogen Bruce thinks he can make a vaccine for,” Natasha said as she clipped her gun into the holster on her thigh.

“And they’re entrusting us to return it safely?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nat has experience with this stuff,” Steve explained. “She’ll take care of it. Just signal on the coms when you find it. The base is empty. We’re not going to run into enemy fire.”

Your gaze flickered to Bucky. His back was to the group, his focus staring down at the abandoned Hydra base below. The metal handle had warped under his grip, outlining the shape of his fingers in smooth ridges along the surface.

You wondered then if it mattered whether the base was occupied at all; if the nightmares could still seep through the cracks in the walls and cause damage all on their own.

***

The door was lined with rust. Red and orange and oozing from the hinges. Bucky stared at the knob, his grip readjusting on his rifle. Steve and Natasha had already taken the north entrance, leaving Sam hovering above in the jet for a quick exit. You and Bucky remained at the south entrance. You watched him carefully, studying the tension in his shoulders, the reflection of gold weaving delicately along his left arm as the metal plates flexed. He was so still you wondered if he was even breathing.

“Bucky?” you called, setting a hand on his forearm. You walked out ahead of him, trying to meet his eye. The contact usually grounded him when he could not hear your voice through the mess inside his head, the numbness. You brushed your thumb gingerly along the vibranium edges. “Are you with me?”

He nodded, shaking himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry. Just need a moment.”

He looked as though he needed more than just a moment. A lifetime, perhaps, before he would ever be able to set foot in a Hydra base without some remnants of his own trauma clawing at the back of his neck, sinking talons into his muscle and yanking him to the depths.

“No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out,” you told him sincerely, eyeing the quinjet hovering over your heads. “I could get Sam to come down and—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, yanking his arm away from your hold. It startled you enough to step back a few paces, your hands burning as heat rushed to your cheeks. But as quick as it came, the sudden hardness of his features washed away when he noticed the hurt upon your face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking another step back to give him space. He glanced towards you, an unreadable expression in his features, though it made you wonder whether the space had been a relief for him at all. He clenched his jaw, turning back to the rusted door. He kicked hit boot to the weakest spot in the frame, near the hinges, and the door slammed to the ground. Broken entirely from the walls around it. Dust smoked up from the floor from where it crashed to the cement and exposed a dark, windowless hall behind it.

“Maybe we can watch that series you’ve been wanting to show me when we get home?” Bucky offered softly, inching closer to you as if the space between you was too much to bear. He pushed out a smile; one you knew took most of his effort to produce in witness to the building that could have been the one to rip him to pieces. It touched his eyes, left lines in its wake. It was beautiful.

“Deal,” you grinned, nudging his side until he started to laugh. The meaning of such a sound amongst the horrors of these halls was not lost on you. It echoed through the corridors and touched the cobwebs hanging in the corner. Its ghosts may have been the ones to hear his screams once.

Bucky took the lead. Even amongst the baron halls, he positioned himself as a shield between you and the darkness ahead. His wide frame took up most of the narrow hallway, his stance cautious to keep you protected at his back. Every so often, his ear flexed at the sound of your steady breathing, the shuffle of your shoes over the debris upon the floors. It was like he was fighting the urge to turn over his shoulder once more to confirm with his own eyes that you were safe behind him. He continued on, deeper into the darkness as fingers flexed against his rifle; his steps undetectable.

You passed by dozens of emptied rooms with dark stains upon the concrete and shackles molded to the wall. Bucky didn’t speak as his gaze trailed along the reinforced cells and the ghosts they carried. Tension etched into his muscle the further he walked.

A shiver burrowed into your spine as you kept your pace close to Bucky’s stride – close enough that you brushed against his shoulder blades every so often. It had been a comfort at first, drawing away the stone in his spine, but then after a while he began to bristle at the contact, almost as if he’d forgotten you were behind him, before he eased again, relaxing into your touch.

You’d been walking through the maze of hallways for nearly ten minutes before either of you spoke.

“Do you recognize this place?” you asked cautiously when Bucky took a right turn down an adjoining hall. He hadn’t even stopped to consider his path. It was as if he were following a memory.

He shook his head, a contemplative look on his face. Still, his attention turned down the corridor like he was being drawn towards it. He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But something’s telling me to go this way.”

You didn’t question whether it was the lab beckoning him or something else, something more dangerous. Instead, you set a comforting hand on his forearm and gave a short squeeze. A pained smile pressed on his lips as he stared down at your hand, how your thumb so sweetly ran along the thick material of his jacket. When you released him, he took in a heavy breath and continued on.

You followed him in silence until you neared the end of the hall. The lighting became progressively dimmer, the bulbs flickering in their disuse. Bugs scrawled along the edges of the walls, scampering through piles of dust and dirt. You held back a shiver as you kept as close to Bucky as you could.

It was as if the walls themselves were molding his body to marble with every step further into their maze. His back tightened, his spine straightened. His breathing became shallow to the point you could no longer hear his careful inhales. But something in him relaxed despite the tension in his body. You were about to call his name when suddenly, he turned sharply into an open room.

The door was lined in dozens of steel bolts and reinforced locks. It looked to be in pristine condition in comparison to the rest of the building. From a short glance inside, it was evident that this room was not the lab Steve sent you in search of. It was lined with cement, void of any furniture, let alone laboratory equipment. It was completely empty, save for the shackles fused into the furthest wall.

It was a cell.

You furrowed your brows as you followed Bucky into the baron room. He didn’t look around, didn’t so much as turn in your direction. Instead, he stilled at the center of the room, his back to you. You swallowed, though it tasted of copper.

“Bucky?” you called nervously. “What are we doing in here?"

As you stepped further into the room, you noticed the dent on the inside of the door. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you reached out and touched the caved in metal, drawing your fingers along the perfect imprint of a fist. No one else could have had the strength to cause that kind of damage except—

“Bucky?” you tried again, panic starting to lace into your voice. He was standing too still, too quiet. He didn’t so much as move a single muscle at the sound of his own name. His posture was too rigid, too formal. It reminded you of— oh God.

You took a single step towards him, the heel of your boot softly tapping to the concrete and suddenly, Bucky whipped around to face you. His expression was cold; void of the man you knew him to be; absent of the smile you drew out of him on the edge of this dreadful building. In one fluid movement, he raised the barrel of his rifle and unlatched the safety. There was no time to panic, no time to call his name, to so much as raise your hands in defense.

He fired.

Eyes screwed shut, lungs burning. There was a deafening ringing in your ears, pulsing deep into the back of your head, obstructing your balance. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Bucky lowering his rifle to his side, the same vacant look in his expression staring at something beyond your shoulder.

“--company!” Steve’s voice suddenly cracked through the coms. “We’ve got company!”

You followed Bucky’s vacant stare to the body currently lying in the hallway. A man laid upon the threshold to the room, a shotgun in hand and a Hydra insignia affixed to his lapel. Blood pooled into the concrete, inching along the floor towards you. You hadn’t even known he was there, that he was just seconds away from firing a shot to the back of your head. The man’s finger was still curled around the trigger. You inched closer to Bucky.

“Y/n? Bucky? Someone report!”

Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s frame as he remained impossibly still. Not even his breaths seemed to rise against his chest. His stare was etched to the door, his eyes absent of the fear he once carried in these halls. They were coated in something darker – an oncoming of stormy skies masked under an ominous grey fog. Obstructing him. Confining him. A terrifying state of peace within the submission. Bite nestled to your tongue and you swallowed it—the burn of acid dripping down your throat.

“Bucky?” you begged, desperate to believe this place hadn’t undone him down to his bones. He didn’t so much as blink. You gritted your teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache and you forced out a name you swore you would never utter aloud—

“Soldat...?”

It was barely a whisper, the most you could possibly manage, and still— Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. When vacant, blue eyes met yours, you bit down hard enough to draw blood, your hand trembling as you reached up and touched the warm coat of blood against your lip. He furrowed his brow, studying your reaction and the utter desolation painted over your features.

“If you don’t respond, I’m coming to get you!” Steve warned through the coms. His voice pulled you away from the fog threatening to consume you whole as you stared at the shell Bucky had slipped into. Steve was panting, out of breath, a grunt through the speakers as a heavy thud fell to the floor.

Tears burned in your eyes as you cleared your throat, raising a finger to your coms.

“We’re okay,” you said slowly, not daring to take your eyes off Bucky for even a second. “We’re safe but... something happened, Steve. Bucky’s not himself.”

There was only a short pause. One where Bucky’s eyes centered on you, trailing over your frame as it were for the first time. They slid down the line of your suit, over your thighs to your boots, then back up along your hips to your arms. They lingered over a faded bruise on your cheekbone – one you’d sustained in a mission in the previous week against a rather unpleasant arms dealer in Slovakia. The muscle in his jaw flexed, his hands curled tight into fists.

Slowly, his eyes returned to yours. They didn’t carry the weight you recognized, the years filled with shame and guilt and burden, but they held a heaviness nonetheless. Deep blue as the depths of the ocean, coated in such darkness the sunlight could not hope to reach. They were the eyes of a man who knew what it was to be punished for disobeying orders, who recognized those who had caused him harm, who could identify those who would keep him safe.

The Soldier was not an empty shell. He was not simply a weapon for Hydra to dispose. He was living and breathing and impossibly real. Stripped down to the very threads that kept him human. Removed of his memories, of his past. Tortured for his mistakes. Kept in a cage like an animal. Taught to be silent, to expect fear, to follow orders.

This was not the Winter Soldier as you remembered him on the bridge, in the sky above D.C., in Vienna. Humanity was slipping through; though it was small, subtle. It was only when his gaze flickered briefly back to the bruise on your cheek and his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be rage, that you realized what had happened.

The man before you was the broken shards of who Bucky had been inside this cell – somewhere between the Winter Soldier and the prisoner of war. Too far gone from the Sergeant who held out as long as he could and miles away from the Bucky who turned on the kettle for you in the morning before you woke up, who indulged your ridiculous list of must-watch movies, who curled against you in the middle of the night when the monsters plagued his dreams.

A purgatory within his own mind.

“Y/n!” Steve called panicked through the coms. “Get out of there! We don’t know what he could do if he—”

“I don’t think he’ll hurt me, Steve,” you replied evenly, holding Bucky’s gaze. “He shot a Hydra agent before I even knew they were there. He saved my life.”

Bucky’s attention snapped to the door, his hand flexing against his rifle. You followed his eye line, unsure of what he must have heard, but with his advanced senses you knew better than to question him.

Slowly, he stepped out in front of you, holding an arm behind him to keep you centered behind his back. Your heart fractured as you realized he was shielding you. Even stripped down to basic instinct, muddled by the horrors of what Hydra had inflicted upon him, he still chose to protect you.

“Get him back to the jet,” Steve ordered, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice, even as he engaged in direct combat with enemy agents. “We’ll secure him there. Be careful.”

You nodded, trying to gather your courage though it felt impossibly far away. You were about to reach for Bucky’s forearm when you stopped yourself, quickly yanking your hand back against your chest and you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. You had no idea how the Winter Soldier would react to such an intrusion, especially given what you remembered about how Bucky first responded to touch – how he’d flinch away from it as if he’d been expecting pain. The Soldier didn’t know to expect anything less.

“Soldat,” you called firmly, mimicking the tone of the Soldier’s handlers. He straightened his spine, turning his head to you, awaiting orders. You inhaled a shaken breath, struggling to meet his eye. “I need you to get us out of here. Both of us. Do you understand?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at your emphasis, though slowly he nodded. You had no idea how many Hydra agents crawled out from behind the woodwork or what to expect when you stepped into the hallway. But the Soldier needed a mission. He needed orders to follow. You weren’t sure whether he would go willingly without them.

Bucky eased out into the hall, a cautious glance behind his shoulder as if to make sure you were following close behind. You gave him a short nod and he turned back to the end of the hall; his rifle gripped tight to his grasp. You attempted to peer around his shoulder to get better leverage and provide coverage, but then—

An arm snaked around your neck, clamped down against your windpipe and yanked you backwards. You gasped for breath – the strangled sound alerting Bucky to your distress as you desperately clawed at the arm around your neck, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Bucky whipped around, rage quickly burning as the blue in his eyes reduced in thin, cerulean rings. You met his gaze, air obstructed as you choked against the man’s grip, and still – you saw a world of panic breaking through the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.

You quickly elbowed the assailant in the ribs and he released your throat, doubling over in pain. It was enough time for Bucky to fire a single shot once you ducked clear out of view, sinking to the ground as your hands darted at your throat in search of air. You only vaguely recognized the sound of the body thudding behind you as you began to cough violently, blood spilling from your lips.

“You’re hurt,” Bucky murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. He was kneeling at your eye line, his brows furrowed and drawing worry lines over his forehead. His voice didn’t sound his like his own – too hesitant, too quiet. Longing and terrified and filled with unbridled rage all at once.

“M’okay,” you choked out, though your voice was rough, as if it has been tossed through a blender and dragged over sandpaper until it bled.

Bucky’s hand reached out to you, gently pushing the hair away from your eyes with the lightest feather of a touch. You stilled as the very tips of his fingers grazed gently over your skin, watching him as he studied the markings on your neck. An impossible moment amongst the chaos in the distance. The humanity of the Winter Soldier breaking through. His upper lip twitched as his fingers touched the discoloration on your neck. His jaw wired shut, a twitch in his upper lip, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand again. He fired another four shots into the dead body on your right.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you told him, gathering his face in your hands, urging him to meet your eye. You drew your thumbs along his cheekbones until he finally forced his gaze back to you. He was breathing heavy, the rage spilling through the cracks in his surface until you said again, “I’m okay.”

A wash of relief coated his features for only a moment. Then, he nodded, almost as if to shake himself of the emotion he was not allowed to express. The lines on his face faded into the façade, the stone cold expression returning and wiping away the traces of the man underneath. Without saying a word, he stood back to his feet and waited patiently for you to follow.

By the time you made it outside, Steve and Natasha were standing by the mouth of the quinjet, weapons at the ready. They were both covered in open cuts and bruises, red seeping into their uniforms and coloring their skin. Natasha was leaning against the edge of the ramp, barely holding herself up, though she started to relax upon spotting you.

Bucky froze at the sight of their weapons and you collided into his back. He pulled out his gun.

“No! Stop!” You rushed out in front of him, holding your hands up defensively. “They’re friends! They won’t hurt us.”

You stared down the barrel of his rifle, counting each agonizing heartbeat as you waited for him to lower his weapon. You didn't know why, but the Soldier was drawn to you, connected to you in some way that he protected you without a second thought. It was his mission. His only directive. It wasn’t one you’d given him, but still—it remained.

His eyes flickered to you, unsure. You gave him a gentle reassuring nod and slowly, Bucky lowered the gun.

“Y/n?” Steve called hesitantly.

“I’ve got him, Steve,” you replied over your shoulder. “He’s okay.”

“He’s—”

“He’s not triggered, not like you think,” you explained as calmly as you could manage. You could sense Bucky eyeing Steve, his hand flexing against his weapon, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to believe Steve was someone you needed protection from. “I don’t know what happened, but one minute he’s Bucky and the next he’s...” You sighed, glancing back at Bucky’s rigid posture. “Something in that base fractured him; awoke this part of him again. It’s a defense mechanism. He’ll come out of it, Steve. Give him time.”

Steve's gaze flickered to Bucky before returning to you. “Last time you met the Winter Soldier, he almost killed you.”

Triggered under Zemo’s twisted plan to draw a line between the Avengers, Bucky had once shot a bullet clean through your stomach. You could still picture the cold look in his eyes as he stood over you, readying for the kill shot as you laid frozen on the floor in a pool of your own blood. You’d never felt fear quite like that – the certain knowledge that you would not survive. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s intervention, you would have been dead.

It was before you knew Bucky. Before you loved him.

Maybe you were naïve, but something had changed in the Soldier since then. Perhaps, the same thing that changed in Bucky.

“I’ll be alright, Steve. He won’t hurt me.” You eased your hand in Bucky’s direction, urging him to holster his weapon. He did and you hoped it was because he trusted you, not because he saw you as his handler. You sighed, turning to Steve. “I’ll take care of him. Just trust me with this. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “But I have to secure him. For everyone’s safety, including his.”

"Let me,” you offered quickly, unsure of how Bucky would react to Steve trying to restrain him. “He’ll take it better if I do it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

No. You weren’t sure of anything; not with Bucky locked in this state. But you told him you were anyway.

“Soldat,” you called, turning away from the flash of surprise on Steve’s face as you turned to Bucky. “Follow me.”

You turned up the bridge of the jet, walking past Natasha and keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t want to see whether she was disappointed with you for feeding into Hydra’s conditioning to keep Bucky compliant. You were only trying to keep him safe, to get him through this in one piece. He’d come out of it eventually. You kept telling yourself that, though you were never entirely convinced.

Bucky hovered behind you, keeping close despite the wide berth of the jet. You gestured to a seat along the side wall of the plane and Bucky sat down. You knelt down beside him, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs from under the seat. The team kept them on hand for the varying occasion when they needed to restrain enhanced individuals or Norse Gods. They’d work on Bucky, too.

“I’m going to put these on you, okay?” you told him, watching for any resistance. But Bucky didn’t move. He only watched you, following the metallic flicker of the handcuffs as you gently fastened them to his wrists. The center affixed to a chain connected to the floor of the plane. He didn’t move a single muscle.

You sighed, brushing at your eyes as you crawled up to sit in the seat beside him. You never wanted to see him in chains, never wanted to be the one to secure the metal around his wrists, but there was a trust within it. A trust that you would undo the locks, that you would protect him while he was vulnerable to attack the same way he protected you. But you couldn’t read Bucky when he was like this. You had no idea what he was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all.

“What about the mask?”

You blinked, thrown by his voice. Rough, unused. Unsure. He was watching you curiously, studying the stunned look of disbelief on your face, and you quickly shook your head.

“No mask,” you said simply, though you could feel the lump building in your throat. It was more of a muzzle than anything else – used to silence him, to humiliate him, to make him feel like a weapon of their own making and destroy any last thread of humanity he was clinging to. You could barely picture it without tears blurring your vision.

“Just try to relax, okay?” you told him. “We’ll be home soon.”

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of home, but your heart was too broken to explain any further. He didn’t ask. You supposed he was trained not to.

***

By the time you landed hours later, Bucky still wasn’t himself. Sam was the one to reluctantly suggest you bring Bucky to a holding cell until he came to again, but you feared that would only make it worse. It was a cell that triggered this state, you didn’t expect a cell would bring him out of it.

Steve and Natasha landed the jet away from most of the crew so you could guide Bucky away from the crowd without anyone noticing the handcuffs on his wrists. Steve threw a jacket over Bucky’s hands to hide the restraints and gave you the key.

“You call me the second it turns bad,” he ordered, a cautious look thrown in Bucky’s direction.

You nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve’s hand. He sighed at that, the tension coursing painfully through his body. “It won’t, Steve. But I promise I’ll call if I need you.”

Steve didn’t seem any more convinced but you could see the longing for hope in his eyes; how badly he wanted to believe you, how badly he wanted his friend back. He gave you a tight smile and nodded, stepping back.

“Come with me,” you told Bucky and he followed without question, trailing behind submissively and it left an awful pang in your stomach. As you stepped down onto the loading bay, you moved to walk in line with him. “I don’t know how much you recognize but no one here is an enemy, okay? We’re safe. I promise I’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of sight.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see his eyes flickering to the sparse agents he passed by as if he were sizing them up, deciding how best to engage with his hands bound. He watched your every move, flinched as a head popped up in your direction as you approached, winced as your name was called in greeting from across the hall, shivered under the steady blow of the air conditioning above. He was on constant edge.

“Oh, hey guys!” Scott Lang jumped out from the elevator before you could press the button. Bucky jolted to step in front of you, blocking you from the perceived enemy who was likely the least dangerous man in the compound. Scott still had Cheeto dust on his fingers.

“Ah, I get it, I get it,” Scott laughed, hands raised in the air playfully as he backed up. “I’m happily in a relationship, my man. Hope may be way out of my league but I’m still in it, okay? You don’t have to worry about me snatching up your girl.”

You smiled, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder blades and easing your fingers down his spine. It was something you did for him to help him calm down when you didn’t want to draw attention to his distress. You hoped it might work on the Soldier, too. Sure enough, he began to relax. You stepped out from behind Bucky.

“Don’t mind him,” you told Scott with a casual shrug. “He’s just a bit on guard. Rough mission.”

Scott nodded in understanding, his lips pressing to thin line. “Totally get it. My bad, man. But hey! I’ll see you for poker on Saturday, right?”

“He’ll be there,” you replied, answering for Bucky whose gaze looked as though he could pierce daggers straight through Lang’s chest. You guided Bucky in the elevator and quickly tapped on your floor, hitting the button several times until the doors eventually closed. Once you were alone, you slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh.

When the floor dinged, you straightened to find Bucky watching you. You were sure whether it was curiosity or concern in his eyes as they followed you into the hall.

“The team knows to leave this floor alone until I give them the okay,” you said, gesturing for Bucky’s hands. He held them up for you and you removed Steve’s jacket and tossed it to the couch. Then, you unlocked each of the cuffs and set them on the table.

Bucky rubbed his hand over the reddened skin on his right wrist. You winced at the burn mark.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I closed them that tight.” You reached for him and you were surprised when he didn’t pull away. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, soothing the cool press of your palms against the irritated skin. He closed his eyes, sighing at the touch.

“Come on.” You eased Bucky to the couch, though you did not lose contact with his wrist. You sat down, sinking into the cushions and gently tugged him down beside you. He was uncomfortable, a little out of place, but you hoped the familiarity might be enough to sink in.

His posture was rigid beside you as you turned on the television and began to search for one of his favorite movies. You were so used to Bucky sliding in next to you, closing the gaps between you without ever acknowledging the comfort of laying in each other’s arms. Now, he sat with his back straight, his hands planted firmly in his lap. He looked as though he didn’t know what to do with the deep-set cushions and the pillows surrounding him.

Bucky looked around, his eyes skirting over the furniture, the television, the window view of the lake down the way, and then—to you. He paused, his features softening.

“I know you, don’t I?”

You clenched your jaw, fighting tears. You nodded.

“I know this place,” he continued, his voice a quiet whisper, as if he was worried who might overhear. “These people, too.”

“Yes, you do,” you confirmed gently. Panic began to wash over his features and you inched closer to him, setting your hand on his forearm. “It will come back to you, Bucky. I promise. Give it some time. I’ll be here when it does.”

His eyes drew down to where you touched him, where your hand gently squeezed his forearm, your thumb brushing tenderly over the lining of his jacket. He watched you as if you’d never done that before, like he’d never experience such kindness in a touch.

***

It wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down and the room coated in the comforting tones of the stars and moonlight beyond the window, the flash of the television illuminating the kitchen behind you, that Bucky finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

You jolted up from your position, your cheek imprinted with the lines of his jacket. You hadn’t realized how close you were to nodding off, how much you’d leaned against his body and relied on his comfort, even in this state. But something was different as he wrung his hands in his lap, twisting around metal fingers and reddening the skin of his right hand.

Bucky swallowed nervously, lowering his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He was expecting you to withdrawal, to be angry for the burden he’d placed upon you, but instead, all you could feel was relief. You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face to the crook of his neck. He held his arms out to the side, as if he were unsure if his own touch was wanted, until slowly, he allowed himself to hold you.

“Are you okay?” you asked against his collar, unable to pull away for even a moment.

Bucky sighed. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”

You swallowed nervously. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it.”

You stilled; breath caught in your chest. Memory of the dehumanizing name still present on your tongue. “I’m sorry that I—that I called you—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky eased, his breath warm to the crown of your head. “You did what you had to. You got me out. I could have... I could have hurt you.”

“No,” you shook your head, determined. “You saved me, Bucky. Hell, you even tried to protect me from Scott. All you did was protect me.”

Bucky nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. “I guess even in that state I knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked, looking up at him.

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “That I could trust you with my life. That I would always protect you with it, too.”

You smiled at him, easing your hand against his cheek. Your thumb brushed sweetly over his cheekbone, your palm against the stubble on his jaw. Even as darkness clouded over him, even when he was lost to the confines of his own mind – he would find he way back to you.

He’d come home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#fucking LOVE brainwashed bucky #my sustenance #bucky barnes x reader #winter solder x reader #my beloved

10K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 15 days ago

Text

😳

Next door - Bucky Barnes x Reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 2.9k

Description: You thought you were being quiet when you touched yourself. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault he could hear everything from his bed next door every single time. And when you moan his name out loud, he’s done pretending he doesn’t hear.

Tags/Warnings: Smut. Menace Bucky is back on this one. Fem!reader. Bucky spying on her. Mutual masturbation. Oral f!rec.

Note: this is literally just Bucky being feral about a helpless doll next door, he just has to step in. Enjoy lovelies 🫶🏼 also I’m making a John Walker version of this.

Masterlist

It wasn't his fault. His room just happened to be next to yours, beds pressed against the same wall. A thick wall. But it wasn't his fault he had enhanced hearing, so he just couldn't help it. Couldn't help hearing the nights you gave yourself over to pleasure.

And fuck, he listened. Every single time.

He learned every sound you made. He could tell when you were already worked up, getting yourself off in just a few minutes. Other nights where you would drive yourself to the edge, again and again, dragging it out for hours.

Hours he spent with his cock in hand, back pressed to the headboard, leaning towards the wall so he wouldn't miss a single wet, filthy sound your fingers made.

And then other ones, rare, where you couldn't quite get there. Frustrated groans. The creak of the bed as you shifted restlessly. He could even picture the sweat dripping past your furrowed eyebrows, when your fingers just weren't enough.

Nights where he fought everything inside him, that feral instinct to tear the wall between you and show you how it feels to be fucked right.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He wasn't expecting anything, he never really did. He'd taken a hot shower, put on a pair of boxers and sat on his bed with a book in hand. His back rested on the headboard, legs crossed over his ankles. A warm, cozy light coming from the lamp on his nightstand illuminated his room. The place was quiet, the only sounds disrupting the silence were his fingers flipping over the pages as he read, and the occasional chuckle the story provoked.

But then he caught it.

A faint, almost inaudible whimper slipped from your mouth on the other side of the wall. He froze in place, just like he always did, like it was somehow still a surprise. Like he didn't expect to hear you again. Like he knew it was wrong to listen. To want to listen.

But he did. Every damn time.

He snapped the book shut in his hands, dropped it over his lap, and instinctively leaned closer to the wall, to your side of the bed. He listened, focused hard, until he could finally hear that familiar sound of slick fingers sliding in a desperate rhythm. A breath got caught up in his throat, when you moaned, and blood rushed to his crotch.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself harden against the hardback cover of the book he had completely forgotten about. He sighed deeply, shoving it aside, and reached to switch off the lamp on his nightstand.

He knew what came next, what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong, dirty. But somehow, being swallowed in complete darkness made it easier to pretend it wasn't.

Like if he couldn't see himself, then maybe he didn't have to feel guilty.

His hand slipped into his boxers, gripping his swollen, painfully hard cock. He pulled it out and immediately started stroking at a fast pace, no buildup, no teasing this time. Just tight, large punishing pumps of his fist to the sounds that came out your mouth. His head dropped back to the wall, eyes closed to block out everything but you.

To try to feel you.

He swore he could even smell you, the arousal, the wetness between your thighs, the sex emanating from your skin as you fucked yourself with your fingers like there was no one else to do it for you. Like he wasn't next to your room, stroking his cock to your whimpers like a fucking pervert.

Like he wasn't willing to split you open if you just said the word.

So he just kept stroking, up and down, cause it was the only damn thing he could do when you were unknowingly putting on a show for him.

But after a while passed, he noticed you just went on and on, but it wasn't edging. Not this time. It didn't bother him, he knew he could go for hours if he wanted to, but you? He knew you weren't getting there.

He knew those frustrated sighs escaping your mouth, when you paused because your fingers were probably cramping from pumping in and out without getting anywhere. That soft thump against your mattress when you hit the bed desperate.

It wasn't fair, he thought, you deserved to see white, to come so unbelievably hard that you screamed without a single care if the entire team heard.

He heard you stop, chest probably rising up and down, panting, as a groan escaped your lips. He stopped too, dick resting on his palm as he waited for your next move.

"Come on ... please" You mumbled to yourself, words muffled by the wall separating him from completely ruining you.

Every fucking part of his body twitched to that plea. Fuck. You were lonely, you needed someone.

You needed someone to fuck you right.

He takes a deep breath, restraining himself with whatever is left of his will, whimpers invading your room as you began moving your fingers once again. He restarts with you, harder, sloppier this time, like he's frustrated too because if you're not coming neither is he.

And then, in the middle of the moans, he hears something else, it's not just incoherent sounds, you're whimpering someone's name.

"B-b ... Bucky"

Shit. Holy fucking shit. His name? he couldn't have heard that right.

He stopped stroking himself, body rising up from his seating position to kneel on the bed, left ear to the wall, hands on either side of his head. He held his breath, closing his eyes, part of him wishing he misheard you, the other part craving to be right.

He heard more moans, but in between, there was something else. Slurred B's. He was sure.

"B-buck ... Bucky please just like that baby"

Shit. You were fantasizing about him. Out loud. About his head between your legs, about his tounge eating you out while his fingers wrecked you.

You wanted him. You needed him.

His legs moved before he could think with his brain instead of the cock he shoved back into his boxers. He took long strides to his door, metal hand messing with his hair like that would do something to take away the heat on his face or bring his heart rate back to normal.

Suddenly he was out of his room, in front of yours, chest heaving like a lunatic in heat. He shook his head, it was too late to back away now, so fuck it, might as well try it. His hand knocked against the door, instantly making you stop your little session.

You sat on the bed all flustered, quickly wiping your hand on a small towel you had tossed to the mattress in case you made a mess of yourself. Which quite frankly you were doing, before someone decided to interrupt your sacred self love time.

Who the hell is knocking on your door and what the hell do they want right now?

You let out an exasperated sigh, finally getting up from the bed, the oversized shirt on your body falling down to cover the drench between your legs. You threw the towel to a hamper, taking a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.

A gasp caught in your throat the second you opened the door. There he was. The man whose name rolled out your tongue so painfully easily.

Bucky.

Standing right there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his dog tags on his chest. Jaw locked, face visibly on edge. His hair was a mess, the front strands sticking to a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were dark, exactly how they looked in your little fantasy just minutes ago.

Shit. He didn't know, he couldn't know. Right?

Bucky was having his own fight inside his head. When he saw you open the door, pupils dilated, your rapid heart rate thumping on his ears, all agitated and ... kind of glowing. Glowing in that arousal I'm-fucking-myself sheen. He had to fight every urge in his body that told him to wrap his hand around your neck and pin you to the ground to make you scream in the hallway, so everybody in that floor knew what name you were pleading to in your room.

"B-Bucky?" You blurted out, eyes darting around nervously.

He almost laughed at that. Why were you so shy now when you were praying his name just minutes ago?

"Are you okay? Is it a nightmare?" You shifted your tone, eyebrows furrowing. Figured that must be the reason of his unsettled expression.

He did let a chuckle out then, shaking his head as he slowly pushed himself into your room, closing the door behind him, backing you up like he was cornering a prey.

"I guess you could say I was having a nightmare, doll" He growled, voice deeper than you've ever heard before. "One where you desperately called out my name, all helpless and needy, and I wasn't here to help you"

Your legs threatened to buckle when you realized what he meant. He'd heard you moaning his name, like a freak.

You'd fantasized about him before, you did it every single time your fingers traveled down to your thighs, but his name had never left your lips then. However, this time, you were so frustrated, so swollen from teasing, rubbing, pushing and not getting anywhere, that his name just rolled out your tongue like a plea, like a call for help.

The back of your legs hit your bed, making you stumble, but his arms were quick to catch you. Your hands hit his bare chest for support, grazing the dangling metal tags, looking up at him with wide eyes and a hint of embarrassment washing your features.

The huge bulge pressing against your stomach didn't help either, too warm and solid to ignore.

He lifted his metal hand to cradle your face, you instinctively leaned into his cold touch closing your eyes, almost purring. He took a deep breath, this wasn't about him, this was all about you. He planted a kiss on your forehead, making you open your eyes at the gesture.

"You don't have to be ashamed angel, not when you were calling my name so sweetly" He said, too softly, like he wasn't about to ruin your life. "And I think it would be real fucking rude if I didn't give you what you were begging for"

You bit your lip, his chest was fire against yours even through your shirt, the cold vibranium hand in your cheek was keeping you grounded, but you weren't sure how long your composure would last under his touch.

"Are you gonna let me make it better for you, doll?" He asked, in mock sweetness.

Cause he already knew the answer, he'd already decided you weren't going to sleep until your legs were shaking.

You nodded, desperately, you were too flustered from the haze, too frustrated with all the bottled up tension in your body. You barely had time to blink before he pushed you onto the bed, flat on your back, sinking to his knees in front of yours. He bunched up the shirt up to your waist, big hands dragging your thighs apart, the cool air hitting your wet skin made you gasp.

"Shh, I know angel" Bucky mumbled against your skin. "Let me take care of you"

His hot breath ghosted its way up your legs, trailing wet kisses that made it hard to maintain eye contact with him, when your head threatened to fall back in pure bliss. He slowly went higher, like he was not only teasing you, but himself.

Something inside him went feral the moment he finally caught the sight of your glistening pussy. Something he had pictured before, all those lonely nights in his room.

"Fuck me... look at you doll" he groaned, spreading your legs even wider, his firm grip pressed the soft flesh of your thighs. "You thinking about my mouth on this pretty little pussy? That what got you dripping all over yourself?"

You nod shakily, hips twitching when he leaned in, hot breath grazing your soaked folds.

"I just, I-I couldn't..." You tried to explain, but he was already shaking his head.

"I know, doll" He cut you off, placing a quick, teasing kiss on your clit, making you whimper. "I heard you, I know every single sound you make. When you're close, when you don't want to let yourself go, when your fingers don't cut it anymore"

Your back arched, trying to grind up against his lips again, beard tickling your skin, but his metal arm wrapped around your thigh and held your hips flat to the mattress.

"Nuh uh, stay still for me dollface" he warned. "You move again and I stop. You hear me?"

You nodded rapidly, chest heaving with anticipation. You were becoming undone and he hadn't even started yet.

"Good girl" He praised, placing another kiss in your bare pussy, this time letting it linger for a few seconds.

He draws back satisfied when he hears your moan, and licks his lips to let the taste of you sink into his mouth.

"Now, good girls aren't supposed to play with themselves like that. So fucking messy with no one to help them" He shook his head, with a devilish grin. "Not when a man willing to break them is next door"

"B-bucky ... please" You begged, this was taking too long, you were dripping over the sheets.

He grinned wider, now this is the way you were moaning his name earlier.

That was all he needed.

You lose it the second his mouth touched you. It was so warm, greedy all over you, groaning into your skin like he was the one getting off from it.

"Sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted, angel" he mumbled, lips dragging up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth until you cried out. "How the fuck did I go this long without it? Without kicking that door and showing you what is like to be pleased properly"

Your hips lifted involuntarily at his words, thighs shaking, but he wasn't having it. His vibranium arm pinned you in place, cold palm heavy on your lower belly, sending you into overdrive. "I said hold still" he growled, before diving right back in.

He was sure he could bust into his boxers just from hearing you become undone under him. This time there was no wall muffling your sounds, your scent, your wetness. This time he had you moaning so loud under his touch, he was sure no one in that floor needed enhanced hearing to know what was happening in your room.

"Bucky...f-fuck, I can't" You cried, unable to control your feet kicking next to his head, but every time your hips jerked he just grunted and pressed down harder.

"Yeah you can" He growled. He let you go briefly to hook your legs over his shoulders and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed until your pussy was even deeper into his face. "Gonna hold you down and make you take it, doll"

Your back arched, trying to escape the overwhelming pressure of his mouth, but he just tightened his grip and kept going. Bucky's tongue worked heavenly over your clit, and when you thought it couldn't get any better, he slipped two fingers inside, curling just right, like he memorized every sound you made through the wall and translated it into his hand.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling tight, and he moaned at every tug, while he kept fingering, licking, sucking, groaning into you like he needed every drop of your pleasure. Like he was fucking addicted.

"C'mon, angel" he whispered, agitated breaths hot against you. "Let me hear it, let me hear what it sounds like when I make you come"

"B-bucky" His name was the only thing you blurted out, body trembling, ragged breathing.

"Come on my tongue, doll" He begged, too drunk in your sweet taste. "Soak my fucking face. Show me who this pussy belongs to"

That was all you needed to let yourself go. Your vision blurred as your orgasm hit, ripping through you so hard you pushed his hands and head away but he kept you pinned, kept licking through it, like he wasn't done until you were sobbing. He only stopped when your legs were shaking uncontrollably, pussy clenching his fingers, and your breath came in broken gasps, eyes lost on the ceiling.

That drove him to the edge too.

He wiped his beard with his right arm, before yanking his boxers down, cock springing free, thick, leaking, heavy in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it.

"You did this, angel. Look at me" He leaned over your body, his metal hand reached behind your neck, lifting it slightly. "Look what just tasting you does to me"

You were still dazed, eyes blinking to focus yourself on him.

He didn't even need his hand to come, so he used it to hold himself above you. He straddled your shaking body, placing his cock over your stomach with a wet slap, sliding against your soft skin while you were too wrecked to move, just whimpering again and again under him. He grabbed your hand and put it over his cock, to push himself deeper into your skin.

"That's it, dollface, just lay there and take it. Let me use this sweet body to finish" He grunted, hips jerking forward, desperately seeking for that release he'd sought after in his room.

You were breathless, overwhelmed by the weight of his cock on your stomach and it’s width under your hand, while he panted like you were the only thing that could save him.

After a few more pumps, he finally came hard with a groan. Thick, hot white landed on your stomach in long, messy streaks. The first spurt made you flinch, the second had him cursing under his breath, hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself on you. His chest heaved as he watched it drip down your skin, and a proud look flashed across his face like he just marked what was his.

The warm fluid felt almost comforting, running down the side of your leg as you still twitched every now and then, trying to remember how to breathe again.

Bucky falls onto the bed beside you, panting, with that painfully arrogant smile like he didn't just come from rubbing himself to you.

“Next time …” He whispered low in your ear, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not stopping until it’s dripping out of every hole you have”

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

reblogs and comments are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

#back on my bullshit #bucky #bucky smut

3K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 1 year ago

Text

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

44K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 2 years ago

Text

the queen of hearts (NSFW)

mafia!loki x reader x mafia!bucky

tw: threesome, cuckolding, light bondage, corruption kink, innocence kink, praise kink, slight humiliation kink but it's very sweet i promise, unprotected sex

================================================

he’s always loved seeing you so nervous.

loki watches as you waddle around to the bar counter, lips parting and closing again in hesitation.

goodness, you pure little soul. he can see your dainty little hand tapping at your side as you ask for two glasses of Bourbon Old Fashioned, stuttering out a please and thank you like a good girl, and norns if you aren’t just the cutest when you’re shy.

as if you haven’t done much more depraved favors for him than just fetching some drinks.

and not only is that trait the one thing loki loves most about you; it’s also the most obvious. you can never hide anything from him— not that you do that often, but it doesn’t take him much… persuading to get you to admit what’s on your mind— the flush of your cheeks and chest and the way your eyes dart away and the way you hide your face in the side of your hair is unmistakable.

especially tonight, when he invited you to come with him to the casino for a few hours of poker between him and the second-in-command of the howlers— bucky barnes.

normally loki’s quite possessive, hiding you away from any men that even breathe differently near you, in fear that they might kidnap you or take you away from him.

but he trusts bucky and knows him quite well— from the very wine he fancies to the two secret hideout flats he has in case something happens (aka, where to find him if he even dares to try anything).

more importantly, he relishes in the flustered look on your face when bucky talks to you.

and he finds it adorable how you're nothing but a flushing, timid mess around barnes.

it’s no secret you see bucky as much more than just your lover’s illegal business partner. (loki knows that shyness all too well, from when he first took you to a dinner date at the rooftop of a first-class hotel and asked to be your official boyfriend, from when he gave you a beautiful diamond necklace to wear at a party with him, from when he kneels between your spread legs, lifting up your dress to reveal the dripping wet, clenching little cunt he loves to spoil so much.)

it was undeniably cute how you clung to loki when the three of you first met at the lobby, and even more adorable when barnes complimented your little blue dress and you mumbled a thank you, tucking your face into loki’s shoulder.

he merely chuckled, softly patting your head as he sent a knowing look to barnes.

“i’m back!”

loki looks up to see you place down the glasses.

the corner of his mouth quirks, and he reaches for your hand and presses it to his lips, mumbling a thank you, angel as he watches in amusement as you react so cutely, eyes widening and face burning red.

bucky clears his throat and raises his eyebrow from the other side of the table. “loki. your move."

loki snickers, letting go of your hand as he side-eyes bucky. “don't rush me, barnes. you'll get your turn soon."

both of them know he's not just talking about poker.

================================================

“you fucking bastard.” bucky grins, laughing breathlessly.

loki chuckles, raises his hands as the dealer sweeps the chips to his side of the table.

“one time. one time you let me win is all I ask," bucky takes another swig of his drink.

“sorry, i have to put on a show. can't let my darling here think i'm a loser.”

you perk up from leaning on loki's shoulder, half-asleep.

“hmm?" you mumble, sitting up. "more drinks?”

loki chuckles, placing a hand on your knee and another on your head to lean you back against him. “no, no, we're alright, thanks, love.”

“y’know,” bucky quips, tapping a finger on the table. “this’s getting a little boring. you and i both have a lot of money and betting a few thousand isn’t gonna change that.”

loki tilts his head, brows furrowing. “i don’t follow.”

“just wondering,” bucky shrugs, running his metal hand through his hair. “why don’t we put much more valuable stuff at stake?”

your lover grins. “like?”

bucky rolls up the left sleeve of his black button-up, flashing a stunning gold watch.

“this is one of the very first rolex oysters ever made, back in 2000. an ordinary one costs six thousand, but this baby is worth 1.7.”

“million?”

loki turns when he sees your eyes widen as you lean forward, admiring the watch.

“you heard it right. some say the only people who have ever touched it are the ceo, steve jobs, and kim kardashian.”

“and you.” you mumble softly. “i remember i watched this on buzzfeed unsolved. it went missing from from the british museum... did you-?”

“hold on, sweetheart," bucky chuckles, “i didn't steal this or anything. hydra did, i just happened ‘ta rip it off that bastard strucker’s dead body.”

loki turns to bucky. “it’s… quite interesting. though, it's a shame i don’t have anything on me tonight worth betting.”

bucky’s eyes meet yours.

then he grins.

“how ‘bout you bet your little angel here, huh?”

loki’s eyes darken, pulling you close to himself. “what?”

bucky laughs, waves his hand nonchalantly.

“not, like, forever, just one night, take her for a little spin. bet she sounds real pretty when she feels good, huh?”

in the corner of his eye, loki sees your brows furrow, and he feels you grip onto his shirt tighter.

“not that i’ll stand a chance against you, snake boy. doesn’t really matter what you put on the line if you win, right?”

you place your hand over loki’s, looking up at him anxiously. “loki, did i hear that right?”

he brushes a hand against your cheek, before turning to barnes.

“give us a moment."

bucky nods, standing up to go get another drink, leaving the atmosphere heavy with tension as loki patiently waits for you to say something.

“is it… weird that i kinda want the watch?"

loki scoffs, patting your hair as you lean into his touch. “of course not. i’ll win it for you, i’ll even kill him if it m-”

“no!!" you yelp, and he laughs.

“just joking, dear." he kisses your hand again.

“mhm.”

“mhm?" he mimics your breathy hum, smirking and teasingly kissing your cheeks and neck. “and why is my angel suddenly so shy, mhm?"

you gasp, trying to push him away with no avail. “loki, love, baby-”

he leans in just enough for his lips to graze against your ear. “can i tell you a secret?"

you nod, whining softly, and he grins.

“i know about your little crush on barnes~"

your eyes widen. “what?"

“oh, don't act so coy, love.” loki presses a hand to your chest, pushing you against the seat. “you know you can't hide anything from me, can you?"

“i’m not hiding anything-”

loki chuckles, shaking his head as he leans over you, smiling harder when your face flushes.

“right, you aren't, love," he tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “not when it's so obvious to me. not when you’re such a shy little dove when he’s around, hmm?"

the way your lips part and close again as if you’re struggling to speak goes straight down to his crotch. he knows deep down you want this, that no matter how much you deny it the way you squeeze your soft thighs together is unmistakable.

“i’m going to accept this little deal, angel.”

he tentatively presses his thumb against your lips, watching intently as your chest heaves nervously at his touch.

“and while we’re playing, i’ll be watching your every reaction to him.”

he brushes your lower lip, pressing a bit harder to slip his thumb into your mouth, pulling away just a second after. you mewl softly, but he pins you to the seat so you can't get away as he leans in to brush his lips seductively against your neck.

“and if i see you turn even the slightest bit pink, i’m going to let him win on purpose and he’ll have you all to himself for the rest of the night.”

he knows you're way too transparent to even try and hide it, but that's the point, isn't it? he knows you want it too. and who is he if not the very first person who should be showering you in rewards and granting your every wish?

he nips down hard on your neck*,* then sucks delicately on the spot, relishing in the sweet sound of pleasure that leaves your lips.

“and if you’re a very good girl for him, i’ll give you a reward you’ll love very much. do you understand, my angel?”

“yeah,” you answer, more whimper than words.

he grins, and just in time, bucky comes back with a few drinks, sitting across the table just as loki moves away from your trembling figure, adjusting his tie very casually as if he didn’t just cuckold you off to his best friend.

needless to say it doesn't take long for the game to end and the more exciting part of the night to begin.

================================================

loki pours himself a drink, swirling the liquid around in the ice and taking a sip.

pretending his cock isn't getting harder with every whimper from you.

bucky’s got you pressed against the king-size bed in his suite, being a pretty angel so kiss-drunk already as he pins your wrists to your side. he’s teased you relentlessly on the elevator ride up to his suite on the 38th floor.

“bucky..." you mumble, your voice breaking off into a gasp as he moves down to your neck.

“gosh,” he grins against your sensitive skin. “you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.”

the praise has your head spinning as bucky sucks at your neck, grazing his teeth over the mark he’s making.

“see? that right there, how you get all shy when i tell you you're pretty, makes you such a cutie… i don’t blame loki for always keepin’ his hands on you, sugar~”

“bucky-!” you squirm as his knee presses up against your crotch.

loki takes another swig of the alcohol and sets his glass down.

he chuckles. “where are you running off to~?”

bucky is just as amused by your shy antics, letting you struggle in his grip as much as you want to, though he doesn’t let you go.

“gosh, lokes. she’s so-” he kisses your neck real hard and your eyes glaze over, “-fucking pretty.”

“she really is~” loki agrees, leaning back in his chair. “you know, you can be a little bit rougher with her.”

bucky hums. “really? she's real sensitive, don’t think she’ll last long, can’t have my little prize passin’ out on me. will ya’, pretty?”

you shake your head, and both men smirk at how good you want to be for both of them.

“i just wanna get a little taste of you, baby,” bucky mocks your breathless whines. “so could you be a good girl and lay back, hmm? let me claim my prize?”

“o-okay…” you mumble, feeling floaty as his hands wander all over you,.

“so damn cute,” bucky growls, nipping your ear. he places his hands on your thighs, spreading you out for him. bucky’s eyes widen, and he looks back at loki.

loki grins. “no underwear, hmm? just as i told her. see, she’s such a dirty little thing~”

“this whole time?” bucky kisses your inner thigh. “you’re corrupting her, loki.”

“and she likes it,” loki crosses his legs. “no matter how shy she is, it makes her feel heavenly when i praise her for doing everything i command.”

flustered at the way these lethally attractive men are talking about you as if you aren’t here, your eyes meet bucky’s and he smirks.

“that true, baby?”

“i- uh, kinda…?”

loki chuckles at your answer. “barnes, i think your reward is getting a little restless~”

bucky licks his lips and dives in for the kill, tracing his tongue along your slit before sucking on your clit. you whimper, trembling at the sensation, and bucky chuckles.

“god, you taste so fucking pretty.”bucky groans, using his thumb to tease your little bud as he fucks your dripping hole with his tongue.

loki shifts in his seat, the bulge in his pants becoming more and more prominent as he downs the rest of his glass and makes his way towards your helpless, shaking body.

a loud ripping sound fills the room and you gasp, completely bare as loki reduces your little blue dress to shreds.

“i’ll buy you a new one, angel,” loki sits you up as bucky grins up at you, his face wet with your juices.

your eyes widen as he licks his lips again, and you get flustered at the brazen look in his eyes.

“god, sugar,” bucky unfastens his belt. “’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll go stupid.”

you whine, closing your legs to ease the ache, but loki whispers in your ear, “don’t move, darling, you said youd be good for him~”

when bucky rolls up his other sleeve, you realize that you’re completely bare to them while they are both still fully clothed.

the feeling of powerlessness sends a tear down your leg.

bucky pins you down on the bed ass up, and loki takes the belt, binding your hands behind your back.

“she gets all fidgety when she starts feeling good,” loki chuckles when you whimper at his drawl. “don’t want her running off when you make her dumb, hmm?”

bucky swats his hands away, and leans in really close to your ear.

“i’m gonna fuck your pretty hole real good, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at his dirty words.

bucky spreads your thighs and lines up, smirking up at loki, who quirks an eyebrow as he returns to his seat.

“and your loki here is gonna watch as you come for me over and over and over again like the little cockdrunk princess you are.”

there’s a lewdly wet sound that comes from your pussy as he pushes his cock into you, and you moan loudly, soaking him with your arousal and clenching down on him like a little slut.

“and maybe… if you look real pretty and let me do what i want, i’ll let loki have a turn~”

your glassy eyes flicker up and you whimper at what you see.

loki’s got one fist around his leaking cock, watching as his pretty baby adjusts to bucky’s size.

“you ready, cutie?” bucky laughs at the blissful teary look in your eyes, and decides that he’s got his reply.

he pulls his hips back slowly, making you really feel every bit of him sliding out-

bucky slams back in, stealing your breath and making you squeak brokenly. he laughs, kissing your cheek with a loud smack sound. “hmm? feeling good, sweetheart?”

“uhuh…” you look back at bucky, who grins and kisses you again on the lips.

“such a good little baby~” he mocks your airy voice, and presses you down on the bed and begins thrusting at a slow but rough pace.

loki groans as he watches you get fucked dizzy. “you alright, darling~?” he smiles teasingly, voice raspy from stimulating himself.

“y-yeah…” you mumble, whimpering into the pillows as bucky fucks you from behind.

loki just loves you like this: so depraved yet still shy and willing and still so eager to please, even when your coherence is withering away with every relentless thrust of bucky’s cock into your cunt.

“so fucking cute-” bucks rams particularly hard into you, making you squeak and kick helplessly.

“no, no, don’t fight it, darling,” loki chuckles, tilting your chin up to get a look at your pretty eyes wet with tears. “you’re just his little prize, so just be a good girl for us?”

bucky licks your shoulder and sucks on your sensitive skin, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“f-fuck, i’m getting close, baby~” he whispers hoarsely. “think you can come for me? keep squeezin’ your pretty cunt around me just like that?”

“mhm…” you whimper, nudging your cute little head into the pillow.

bucky fucks into you, groaning at the feeling of your warmth, and pins your shaking hips down on the bed before coming inside of you and making sure none of it drips out. loki cums too, his spent staining the expensive carpet.

shaky breaths tickle your ear, before he laughs and kisses your shoulder, pulling out and untying the belt on your wrists. loki laughs at how limp his pretty angel is as bucky lifts you up into his lap.

“cutie,” bucky traces a metal finger under your chin, brushing his lips against yours.

you shyly hum, eyes droopy and your body too exhausted to move.

but you still register the metallic click and something encasing your wrist.

“a little gift to you for being such a sweetheart, hmm?”

your eyes flutter open as you look down at the million-dollar gold watch around your wrist.

bucky laughs at the way your eyes widen. “don’t scratch it, baby. it’s a modern-day historical relic~”

“b-but didn’t loki lose?” you ask, “that’s why i-”

another set of arms wraps around you, making you wonder when loki got up from his seat.

“darling,” loki drawls, “what you don’t know is that either way, bucky would have ended up fucking your pretty cunt, mm? he likes you very much, doesn’t he?”

your lips part as he places you back down on the bed, spreading your legs before cradling the back of your head with one hand and grabbing your hips in the other.

“while bucky’s recovering from how good you made him feel, pretty angel~” loki praises you, kissing your lips and breaking away too soon, “let’s make the most of the night and your pretty body, shall we? don’t worry, you’re in very good hands with the both of us, my princess~”

2K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 2 years ago

Text

Icarus Falling

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!teader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out you hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#good shit

3K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 2 years ago

Text

Icarus

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left had to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help you friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#in a bucky mood rn

6K notes · View notes

lokis-chaos-corner · 3 years ago

Text

Just Another Stark Party

Loki x Reader

Summary: Just another Stark party… at least that’s what you thought. When a man can’t take no for an answer Loki pretends to be your boyfriend but what happens when the feelings get a little too real?

Warnings: Fluff, smut(18+), protective yet soft Loki, men being stupid (harassment), language

A/N: This gif because protective Loki... enough said

I hate this, I thought to myself as I closed my makeup palette. Just another Stark party. I know the guy means well but is it really necessary to celebrate after every mission? I swear he throws a new party every weekend, sometimes several over the course of the week and into the weekend. I love a party as much as the next person but after a long mission all I want is to curl up with a good book. It also didn’t help that I knew Nat and Wanda would be trying to set me up with every man who so much as looked in my direction. I rolled my eyes at the thought, a groan slipping from my lips. I heard a chuckle in the doorway, startling me and the makeup palette slipped from my fingers. In an instant a figure was standing in front of me holding the palette I’d just dropped. I looked up, my eyes meeting familiar green ones as he turned the palette over in his hand.

“You’re cute when you’re in deep thought,” his silky voice chuckled.

“I’m always cute,” I answered.

“Very true.”

I hadn’t expected his answer to be quite so blunt and heat rushed to my cheeks.

“I thought you didn’t wear blush all that much,” he said, touching my cheek.

Cheeky bastard.

“I don’t,” I answered, gently slapping his hand away.

“Hm,” he chuckled, slipping the palette into my hand.

“Thank you, Loki,” I said, placing the palette back into my makeup bag. His warm smile sent warmth running through my body as he spoke.

“I take it you’re going to Stark’s party,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Nope, just all dressed up for you, Loki.”

His breath hitched and I chuckled. We’d always had this sort of banter between the two of us but usually it ended with him unbothered and me flustered. There had only been a small handful of times in which he’d ended up speechless and I enjoyed these moments. He lifted his hand once again, touching my cheek before moving to my shoulder, touching the strap of the dress.

“You should dress up for me more often,” he replied, gently tugging at the strap.

“Maybe you should give me a reason to,” I answered, heading toward the door. Before I even reached the doorknob I felt his hand around my wrist, pausing my movements as he moved behind me.

“You need a reason to dress up nicely for me, hm?” he asked, his voice suddenly growing deeper as he moved his hands around my waist, moving his lips so close to my ear I could feel his breath on my skin.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” I answered as his hands slowly moved upward. “But, alas, I must leave,” I said, stepping back and opening the door. I heard a faint growl from behind me as I stepped into the hallway, chuckling to myself. I turned to the frustrated god, giving him a smirk. “Will you be attending Stark’s party?”

“You know I’ve never been one for such festivities,” he answered, closing my bedroom door behind him.

“Hm, such a shame. Guess I’ll have to find someone else to entertain me,” I answered, turning away from him and heading downstairs.

~~~

Just another party, I thought to myself as I sat at the bar chatting with Nat and Wanda.

“And Stark seriously asked you to Bartend?!” I exclaimed. “What? The man’s a billionaire and can’t afford a bartender?”

“I know right!” Nat exclaimed as she took a drink from the woman at the bar. “Glad he finally came to his senses and hired someone.”

Suddenly I felt a presence behind me and I turned to see a man standing there, one I didn’t recognize.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink but seeing as it is an open bar I thought I’d have one of what you’re having,” the man said, taking a seat next to me. I turned to Nat, rolling my eyes, causing her to suppress a laugh as she took a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take a double of whatever the lady’s having,” he told the bartender, once again causing me to roll my eyes.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name, mama?”

Nat and I nearly choked on our drink as he spoke and he gave us a confused look as the bartender placed his drink on the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d be making you choke quite yet but there’s a first time for everything.”

I moved closer to Nat, neither of us feeling comfortable in this man’s presence. Who was he?

“Aw, don’t be like that, sugar,” he said as he moved closer to me. Nat stood up, stepping between the man and I, her hand on her gun. Of course she’d bring a gun to a party, I chuckled to myself.

“I suggest you back off my friend,” she hissed.

“Ooh, so I have two feisty ladies on my hands tonight.”

“Yeah two ladies who are very much not interested,” she growled. He stood up, pushing her to the side and reaching for my hand. I could tell she was trying not to make a scene but the minute his hand reached mine she wrapped hers around his wrist, yanking it away from me.

Suddenly I felt a familiar presence behind me as a familiar pair of hands wrapped around my waist.

“Is there a problem here?” his deep voice growled.

“Y-you’re L-Loki?” the man stuttered, his eyes locking on the man standing behind me.

“Yes and you’re an asshole who can’t take no for an answer. Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way I suggest you quit bothering my lady and her friend before I castrate you,” Loki growled. The man scurried away, fear in his eyes, as he held his hands over his front. Nat and I burst into laughter as disappeared into the crowd.

“Thank you both,” I said, looking at Nat before lifting my head to see Loki towering over me.

“Of course, darling. I apologize if I overstepped but it seems Midgardian men only take no for an answer when the woman is already involved.”

“You didn’t overstep,” I answered.

“Wait… so you two aren’t really together?” Nat asked, seeming disappointed. “Dammit! I thought it finally happened! You two have been teasing each other practically since you met!”

I laughed as Loki placed his chin on my shoulder. “Well if this one would ever take a hint perhaps we would be,” he said, causing my eyes to widen.

“What?” I turned around on the bar stool as he removed his chin from my shoulder. He was practically standing between my legs though I didn’t mind the closeness.

“Oh, come on, darling. Why do you think I came to this irksome party?”

“Because you’re the god of mischief and you like to party?” I answered, though it was more of a question.

“How can you be so smart at certain things yet so oblivious when it comes to my affection?”

Nat slipped away, a smirk on her face, as she made her way toward Bruce.

“I just thought you were joking. You’re the god of mischief. You like pranks and jokes. I never thought you were serious.”

His eyes darkened at my words and he moved closer to me, lowering his lips to my ear.

“I’d never joke about that, darling. Not when it comes to you.” He pressed his lips just below my ear, slowly moving down my neck. My eyes closed as I tried to suppress a moan and he chuckled at my efforts.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

I nodded, placing my hand in his and he pulled me off the stool, leading me through the crowd and toward the elevator. As the doors closed behind us he pressed me against the wall.

“Do you want this?” he asked, needing assurances before he continued.

I nodded, taking his hand and moving it to my breast. He gasped slightly as he saw where I’d placed his hand and squeezed lightly, relishing in each reaction he was able to pull from me. As we reached the floor leading to his room he pulled away, taking my hand in his as he led us to his door. He wasted no time in opening the door and pressing me against the wall, kicking the door closed.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he murmured, sucking the skin on my neck.

“Probably about as long as I have,” I answered. His eyes widened at this and a smirk spread across his face.

“Well then. Let’s not keep you waiting any longer, princess.” He takes my hand, leading me to his bed before pushing me back onto the black sheets and crawling over me. He waved his hand and his shirt and pants vanished as I trailed my hands over his skin. He looked down at my lace bra and underwear, his mouth twisting into that familiar smirk.

“Such a perfect little princess,” he groaned, trailing one hand up my body, avoiding the place I needed him most. “I’ve been denied this gorgeous little body far too long, Y/n… don’t deny me any longer. Can I have you like this, princess?”

“Please, Loki,” I whimpered as he unclasped my bra at those words, throwing it to the side and latching his lips to my nipple. I arched my back and I heard the deep rumble of his laughter as he released my nipple from his mouth and slipped his boxers off, grinding his cock against me. I moaned and he pressed his lips to mine, swallowing the noises as we heard footsteps outside his door.

“I don’t know. Last I saw her she was with Loki,” Bruce’s voice spoke as the footsteps grew closer. Loki pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked down at me and we heard the dreaded knock on his door.

“Loki, have you seen Y/n?” Steve called from outside the door.

“Depends,” he called back, causing me to suppress a laugh underneath him.

“On what?” Tony called.

“Geesh, how many of you are out there?” he replied.

“Steve, Bruce, and me,” Tony called back. “Where is she, Reindeer Games?”

“I really don’t think you want to know,” Loki answered, slipping my underwear off.

“We’re going to bust down this door in three seconds!” Tony exclaimed, sounding worried. Loki rolled his eyes as he lined up his cock with my dripping entrance.

“1!” Tony called and my eyes widened. He’s serious about this.

“Tony, I’m fine!” I called out. Loki slipped his cock inside me and I moaned.

“Did she just… oh shit,” Steve muttered and I could just imagine how red his face was getting.

“See, I wouldn’t harm her,” Loki called before leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Unless you ask me to,” he chuckled darkly as I adjusted to his size. “Now, unless you want a show I suggest you all leave,” Loki called, pulling out slightly only to shove his full length back inside me. The sound of footsteps filled our ears once again, though this time they were fading.

“I’m never going to be able to face them tomorrow,” I said, my face burning from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, darling. You’ll be staying in bed with me tomorrow,” he answered as he began increasing the pace of his thrusts. My head was thrown back and I closed my eyes as he brought his hand to my lower stomach, pressing down.

“Oh, fuck!” I moaned.

“Feel good, little one?”

“So good! Fuck! Don’t stop, Loki.”

I could feel myself approaching the edge and I could tell he knew this as he pressed his lips to mine.

“Cum for me, love. I need to feel it,” he groaned against my lips. That was all the confirmation I needed before my walls clenched around him and his cock twitched inside me. He continued thrusting, trying to hold off his own orgasm as he watched every contortion of pleasure on my face. As I slowly began coming down from my high he finally released inside me, coating my walls with his cold seed. He was panting on top of me and I thought he would collapse next to me but what he did next surprised me.

“Apologies, sweet girl. I should have prepared you first. I just simply could wait no longer to feel your delicious little cunt around my cock. Don’t you worry, little one. I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured softly, pressing his lips against mine once again as he pulled his cock out of me. He slowly moved down my body, lifting my leg over his shoulder.

“I’m going to suck every last drop of cum out of you, sweet girl. Then I shall ravish your gorgeous little body until the only thing you can remember is my name.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

2K notes · View notes