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mandoalorian · 3 days ago

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vani !!! when i tell you that your reviews are the only thing that keep me going. cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

congress & carnality: epilogue [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: President!Bucky Barnes x First Lady!Reader

Synopsis: One year after taking down Hydra and winning the presidency, you and Bucky travel to Shelbyville, Indiana, to reunite with Rebecca Barnes—Bucky’s 106-year-old sister. Rebecca blesses your union and joins you in Washington, D.C., for the wedding of the century. In front of friends, heroes, and the eyes of the world, you and President Barnes say “I do” in a ceremony filled with love, legacy, and promise.

Word Count: 4000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content, smut, no minors, employee x employer, f receiving oral, p in v, tooth-rotting fluff, happy endings

Authors's note: I can't believe it's over. My first ever Bucky series. I really am so emotional to say goodbye to them. Thank you to everyone who supported me with this. I love you all so much. <3

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

One year later – Shelbyville, Indiana

The air in Shelbyville was warmer than you expected. Humid, with that small-town stillness that clung to the trees and drifted through cracked windows like a forgotten melody. You sat in the passenger seat of the sleek, black SUV, hands tucked in your lap, eyes flicking between the winding road ahead and the man beside you—your man. President James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky’s hand was on the wheel, but he kept glancing over at you. His tie was loose, jacket folded in the back, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He didn’t look like the Commander-in-Chief right now. He looked like the boy from Brooklyn—older, wearier, but just as breathtaking.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

His lips twitched into a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A little. It’s been a long time.”

You reached over, threading your fingers through his. “She’s gonna love you.”

“She always did,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But it’s been years. I don’t know what she remembers. Or how much she’ll recognise.”

You squeezed his hand. “She’ll know you. You’re unforgettable.”

He looked at you then, and the smile deepened. “I could say the same about you, sweetheart.”

The car pulled into the gravel driveway of the Shelbyville Retirement Community, a modest brick building surrounded by flower beds and white rocking chairs. Bucky parked but didn’t move for a moment. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a nervous rhythm. Then he took a breath, got out, and opened your door.

“She’s in the garden most mornings,” he said as you walked beside him, Alpine’s carrier swinging gently from your free hand. “Likes to sit in the sun.”

The nurse at the front desk recognized him immediately. Not as the President, but as James Barnes.

“She’s been waiting for you, hon,” the nurse said with a soft smile, gesturing toward the back patio. “She’s sharper than she lets on.”

You followed the path through the building, past old portraits and creaky floorboards, until you stepped outside—and there she was.

Rebecca Barnes.

She was sitting in a white wicker chair, wrapped in a light shawl despite the warmth, her silver hair twisted into a soft bun. A glass of lemonade sat on the table beside her, untouched. Her eyes were closed, face tilted to the sun.

“Becks?” Bucky’s voice cracked on her name.

Her eyes opened instantly. Clear. Blue. Familiar.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered. Her voice was thin, but full of life. “James Buchanan Barnes. Took you long enough.”

Bucky choked out a laugh, then crossed the patio in three long strides. He knelt beside her chair and reached for her hand.

“You look—” He swallowed hard. “You look beautiful.”

“I look like I’m one stiff breeze away from turning to dust,” she said dryly, but her hand gripped his like a vise. “But you—God, James. You’re here.”

They held each other for a moment. No words. Just years of pain and distance melting in a single embrace.

Then she looked at you.

“And who’s this lovely girl?”

Bucky turned, hand still wrapped around his sister’s. “Becks, this is my fiancée.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Fiancée? Well now, I really have missed a lot.”

You stepped forward with a smile, nerves fluttering in your chest. “Hi, Rebecca. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Oh, none of that,” she said, patting your hand as you took the seat beside her. “You’re practically family now. Tell me everything. How did you two meet?”

Bucky looked at you, a soft gleam in his eye. You laughed.

“Well,” you said, “he helped me carry a box of books into my new apartment. I didn’t know he was a congressman. He didn’t know I was about to interview for a job with him.”

Rebecca raised a brow. “A box of books? Real smooth, James.”

He shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? She looked like she needed saving.”

“You both did,” Rebecca said, surprising you. Her gaze had softened, settling between the two of you with something warm and knowing. “People like us… we don’t get easy lives. But when we find love, real love—it sticks. Even when the world tries to pull it apart.”

Your throat tightened.

Bucky cleared his. “We came to tell you something.”

Rebecca looked between you, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You’re getting married.”

You blinked. “How did you—?”

“I’m not dead yet,” she said. “And the way you look at each other? Please. You’ve always had this glint in your eye when you like someone, Buck. You had it with Steve, too.”

Bucky smiled. There was a shadow behind it. A name not spoken often enough.

“We want you to come,” he said. “To DC. For the wedding.”

Rebecca sat back, blinking fast. “I haven’t left this town in forty years.”

“You will now,” Bucky said firmly. “We’ll fly you out. Bring a nurse, make you comfortable. I want you there. We both do.”

Her eyes shone.

“Well then,” she said, voice wavering, “I guess I better find a new dress.”

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The hum of the engines was steady beneath your feet, a low rumble that somehow felt more like home than any house ever had. You stood near the window, watching clouds drift beneath the wing of Air Force One, your heart climbing higher with each mile.

Behind you, the cabin was alive with soft conversation. Sam was arguing with the flight attendant about snack options. Yelena had claimed the plush recliner beside Rebecca and was currently teaching her how to play Angry Birds on a government-issued tablet. And Alpine—Alpine had claimed Rebecca’s lap like it was her birthright.

“She doesn’t usually warm up this fast,” you said, smiling as Bucky came to stand behind you, arms slipping around your waist.

He nuzzled into your neck. “She’s got good instincts. Knew Rebecca was family.”

You leaned back into his chest, fingers tracing slow circles on his forearm. “You okay?”

He was quiet for a moment, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Better than okay. She’s here. You’re here. And we’re flying home to get married.” He paused. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your palms to his chest. “It’s real. Congressman, are you really marrying your Personal Assistant?” You mocked jokingly.

“You sound like TMZ,” Bucky huffed with an eye roll. “Or Tara.”

You grimaced. “And to think you could’ve ended up with her.”

He grinned, stifling a laugh. “What if…”

Yelena called from across the cabin. “Hey, President Grandpa! Becks just beat my score.”

Rebecca beamed, holding up the tablet. “What can I say? We didn’t have birds like this in 1932.”

Laughter filled the space. Even Sam cracked a grin.

You watched Bucky glance at his sister, a soft expression crossing his features—some mix of awe, disbelief, and joy.

“She looks good,” he murmured.

“She’s thriving,” you said, “and she’s going to walk down the aisle with you. That’s what matters.”

His lips brushed your forehead. “You’re what matters.”

Before you could respond, Alpine leapt from Rebecca’s lap and strutted down the aisle with the kind of confidence only a spoiled White House cat could possess. She launched herself straight into Bucky’s arms, curling up like she was done with the peasants and needed royal attention now.

“Your Highness,” Bucky said dryly, stroking her behind the ears. “We thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

“She knows it’s your wedding week,” you teased. “She’s demanding extra tribute.”

Bucky smirked. “If this cat doesn’t walk down the aisle with us, I’m calling the whole thing off.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll put her in a tiny veil.”

Sam groaned from across the cabin. “No pets in the ceremony! There are diplomats coming, man!”

Yelena leaned over. “Let her carry the rings. I dare you.”

Bucky looked down at Alpine, who blinked up at him slowly.

“She’d never drop them,” he said solemnly. “She’s more responsible than half the Senate.”

You laughed so hard you had to sit down.

The limousine pulled through the White House gates just as the sun began to set, casting golden light over the South Lawn. Staff lined the steps to greet you. Marines stood at attention. Reporters snapped photos from behind the gates, but this time, you didn’t care. You weren’t the secret anymore.

You were the bride.

Rebecca stepped out with grace, supported on one side by a nurse and on the other by Bucky. Her eyes welled up as she looked up at the grand columns.

“James,” she whispered, “you really live here.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. A little bigger than the house we grew up in, you think?”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam muttered, following behind with the bags. “This bags are so heavy. Should’ve took the serum.” He bit out jokingly.

Inside, the residence had been transformed. Flowers everywhere. A long table covered in fabric samples and seating charts. Yelena dragged you upstairs to go over final details while Bucky stayed with his sister, walking her through the family wing, showing her the picture of Alpine over the fireplace and the secret candy drawer you kept locked because you didn’t trust Joaquin with sugar.

You heard her laugh echo up the stairs and felt a lump catch in your throat.

This was it.

Everything you built together. Everything you survived.

Tomorrow, you’d marry James Buchanan Barnes on the White House lawn—with the whole damn world watching.

And for the first time in your life… you were ready.

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You’d never seen the White House look like this.

Rows of white chairs lined the South Lawn, sunlight dripping like honey over the manicured grass. An arch of soft ivory roses stood at the altar, framed by delicate white chiffon that danced in the breeze. Somewhere behind the flower arrangements, Alpine prowled like a tiny, elegant security guard.

The crowd was quiet for now—just a hush of excited murmurs. World leaders, old Avengers, press, secret service, and your closest friends all gathered under the spring sky. But it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt… right.

You stood just inside the residence, behind the heavy glass doors, your hand gripping Yelena’s.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, even though your heart was hammering like a war drum. “I’m marrying him.”

She smiled, fixing the tiny strand of hair that had escaped your updo. “You are. Finally. Took you long enough.”

“I was trying to be professional.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “You slept with him on his mahogany desk.”

You grinned. “Only once.”

She snorted. “Liar.”

The music shifted—strings swelling in a gentle, steady rhythm. The doors opened slowly.

And there he was.

Bucky stood at the end of the aisle in a custom navy suit, crisp white shirt beneath it, his hair tucked back neatly, beard freshly trimmed. His eyes locked onto yours like the world had narrowed down to a single heartbeat. Yours.

Sam stood beside him in a charcoal tux, grinning so wide he looked like he might burst. Joaquin gave you a thumbs-up from the second row. Bruce Banner was there too, and even Pepper Potts. They’d all come.

But Bucky hadn’t moved.

He stood frozen as you took your first step, Yelena at your side, Rebecca waiting in the front row with misty eyes and a tissue she refused to use. You could hear Alpine meow somewhere behind the chairs. No one dared interrupt her.

When you finally reached him, Bucky took your hands gently, his palms warm and shaking just a little.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he breathed. “You look… god, I don’t even have words.”

“I do,” you teased. “I wrote them down.”

The crowd chuckled softly.

The officiant—an old friend of Sam’s—stepped forward and welcomed everyone, but all you could see was Bucky. The same man who once picked up your box of books. The man who tried to pretend he didn’t feel anything. The man who kissed you like war and worship, who held you when your mind unraveled, who asked you to stay when he didn’t know how.

And now, he was all yours.

“I know we’re supposed to read vows,” he said, clearing his throat, “but I don’t think anything I wrote touches what I feel for you. I never thought I’d get a life like this. I never thought I deserved it. But you—you made me believe in good things again. In second chances. In home. You’re my best friend. You’re the love of my life. And I will never stop choosing you, even when the world feels too heavy.”

You tried not to cry. You really did.

Your turn.

“Falling for you was slow,” you said, voice shaking. “Because you made me wait. You made me work for it. And somewhere between the early mornings and campaign stress and late-night drives… I realised I’d never loved anyone the way I loved you. You let me in, even when it hurt. You fought for this—for us. And now I want to spend every day showing you what that meant. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. I always will.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in sight. Even Sam pretended to wipe something from his face. Alpine sneezed loudly.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

He pulled you in like the world was ending, like he needed your mouth on his more than he needed air. The crowd erupted in applause, cameras flashed, and Alpine meowed again like she approved. You didn’t care. The only thing that existed was him—his lips, his hands, the taste of forever on his tongue.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.

“Mr. President,” you grinned.

The ballroom inside the White House had been completely transformed. Warm fairy lights spilled from the high ceiling like stars fallen from heaven, casting a golden glow over the sea of round tables and towering florals. The champagne never stopped flowing. There were string quartets and jazz musicians and a custom white cake taller than Alpine’s ego.

And at the center of it all, you and Bucky.

He never stopped touching you—fingers brushing your spine as you walked through the crowd, hand on your thigh under the table, lips ghosting against your shoulder every time you turned your head. You were dizzy on love and wine and him. Especially him.

Yelena made a toast that was both wildly inappropriate and shockingly sweet, including the line: “If you hurt her, I’ll gut you with a dessert spoon. But I’m rooting for you. Always have.”

Sam raised his glass next, grinning wide. “Watching the two of you fall in love has been… frustrating, hilarious, and honestly inspiring. You’re proof that even grumpy old war criminals can find love in their weird little government offices.”

Joaquin chimed in with a gentle, “We all know she’s the reason you won the presidency, Barnes.”

Everyone laughed, but Bucky leaned over and kissed you like he didn’t care about any of it—just you.

But it was Rebecca’s toast that made the room go still.

She stood slowly, supported by her cane, her voice quiet but clear.

“I lived a long life thinking my brother was lost. The war took so much from us. And for a while, I thought it took him, too. But then one day, I saw his face in the paper… and there he was. Older, sadder, but still my James. And now, I get to see him happy. Whole. I get to see him loved. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Bucky was already tearing up before she finished. You clutched his hand under the table and leaned into his shoulder.

There was only one moment left.

A small photo frame sat on the mantel near the cake. A picture of Steve Rogers in full Captain America gear, smiling, frozen in time.

Bucky walked over alone. Placed his boutonniere at the base of the frame. Said nothing. Just stared.

You gave him space. Everyone did.

When he returned, he kissed you gently and whispered, “He would’ve liked you.”

“I hope so,” you said.

“He would’ve said I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled softly. “Then he would’ve been wrong.”

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The moment the bedroom door shut, something shifted.

All night, Bucky had kept it together—smiling for the cameras, shaking hands with diplomats, whispering soft nothings in your ear when the cameras weren’t watching. But now? Now, it was just the two of you. Husband and wife.

And he looked like he was about to ruin you.

He stepped toward you slowly, undoing the buttons of his suit jacket one by one, eyes fixed on yours with a hunger so deep it made your knees go weak. His voice was low, ragged.

“Get on the bed.”

“Or…?” You smirked, that fierce and familiar gleam in your eyes.

With ease, Bucky swept you off your feet, carrying you to the bed bridal style. The train of your wedding dress rustled behind you as you were dropped onto the mattress, heart racing, breath catching when you turned back and saw the look on his face—devoted. Desperate. Reverent.

“You looked so fucking perfect today,” he said, yanking his tie off with one hand. “Walking toward me like I was something worth saying yes to.”

“You are,” you whispered.

That broke him. The suit jacket hit the floor. The dress shirt followed, revealing the strong line of his chest, the soft dusting of hair, the dog tags that had never left his neck—even after all these years. His scars were visible now, and you reached for him, needing to touch every part of him.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deep, full of love and ownership. His hand cupped your cheek, then slipped into your hair, tilting your head back so he could taste you deeper.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your lips. “Tell me I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, Bucky. All mine.”

He groaned, kissed you harder. You barely noticed him reach behind you until you felt the zipper of your dress slide down. His mouth followed the line of skin he exposed, trailing heat down your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your chest.

He took his time undressing you—peeling away the layers like a man unwrapping something sacred. His wedding ring grazed your skin as he touched you, every brush of metal making you gasp.

And when you were finally bare beneath him, he paused. Just looked at you.

“Been dreaming about this,” he admitted. “Making love to you for the first time as my wife.”

Your heart squeezed.

“Then do it,” you whispered. “Make me yours.”

Something snapped.

His mouth was on your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple before his teeth sank in just enough to make you moan. He soothed the sting with soft kisses, then moved lower—down your ribs, over your stomach, nipping at your hip before settling between your thighs.

“Look at you,” he said, voice dark and reverent. “So wet already.”

“Bucky—please—”

“Shh,” he whispered, licking a slow stripe through your folds, groaning at the taste. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

He made love to you with his mouth first—tongue circling your clit, fingers stroking deep inside you, curling just right. He didn’t stop when your legs shook. Didn’t stop when you begged. He held you down, gentle but firm, until you shattered on his tongue with a cry of his name.

Only then did he finally rise above you, panting, pupils blown wide.

“You ready?” he asked, voice breaking.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ve been ready since the day you picked up that box for me.”

He smiled—soft, so soft. Then he kissed you again and slid into you with one deep, perfect thrust.

Your breath caught. His did too.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel like heaven.”

You clung to him, one hand sliding over his back, the other cupping his face. “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t.

Bucky moved slowly at first, hips rocking into yours, hands cradling your body like you were something precious. He whispered everything he felt—how beautiful you looked, how much he loved you, how he never thought he’d have something this good.

Then he picked up the pace—grinding deeper, rougher, your bodies slapping together in a rhythm that stole your breath. He grabbed your thigh and threw it over his hip, changing the angle just enough to make your eyes roll back.

“I married you,” he panted. “You’re mine now. Mine to fuck. Mine to love. Mine to ruin.”

“Yours,” you gasped. “All yours.”

He kissed you again, messy and hot, swallowing every sound you made. Then he slid a hand between your bodies and rubbed your clit in tight circles, watching you fall apart beneath him all over again.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

You shattered—clenching around him with a moan that sounded like forever.

Bucky followed with a groan, thrusting deep one last time before spilling inside you. His head dropped to your shoulder, panting against your skin as he held you tight.

You stayed like that—wrapped in each other, breathless, undone.

Then he kissed your temple and whispered, “You’re my whole damn world.”

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Sunlight poured into the bedroom like honey—thick and slow, golden across the rumpled white sheets. The heavy drapes hadn’t been drawn last night, too busy tearing clothes off, too lost in each other to think about anything beyond bare skin and whispered vows in the dark.

Your legs were tangled with Bucky’s. His arm was heavy across your stomach, his ring cool where it pressed into your skin. You could feel his breath on your collarbone, slow and steady, and when you tilted your head, you found him already awake.

He was watching you.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, voice still sleep-rough.

He smiled, soft and lazy. “Can you blame me? I just married the prettiest girl in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning as you reached up to trace the line of his jaw. “You’re such a sap now.”

“Only for you,” he said. “Always for you.”

You kissed him. Slow. Sleepy. Like the world could wait a little longer.

There was no press conference. No classified meeting. No political fires to put out.

Just the two of you. Just peace.

He ran his fingers over your bare thigh beneath the covers, then up your waist. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” you grinned. “In the best way.”

That earned a low, proud chuckle. “That’s my girl.”

Before you could tease him back, the bedroom door creaked open.

Meow.

You both looked up just in time to see Alpine—your very spoiled white cat—jump onto the bed like she owned the damn place. She climbed right over Bucky’s legs and settled herself between you, purring like a motor.

“She does realize it’s our honeymoon, right?” you asked.

Bucky scratched behind her ears anyway, already smitten. “She runs this house. We just pay rent.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the morning light spill across Alpine’s fur, across your ring, across his tired, happy face.

“This feels like a dream,” you whispered.

Bucky turned toward you. “Then I hope I never wake up.”

You stayed there for a while—three hearts beating in sync, no rush, no demands.

Just love.

He eventually sat up, dragging the sheet around his waist, and gave you that little smirk that meant trouble. “What do you say we make pancakes? And then take a shower. Together.”

“You just want to bend me over the bathroom counter again,” you said.

He grinned. “Maybe.”

You kissed him anyway. Because you could.

Because you were his.

Because this was forever.

And as Alpine meowed again—clearly annoyed that she wasn’t the center of attention—you laughed against Bucky’s mouth and whispered:

“Let’s make a life.”

He kissed your forehead, his wedding band catching the light.

“We already are.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

THE END.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

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#vani 💌

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mandoalorian · 3 days ago

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love you to the moon and saturn

close to him

tfatws!bucky barnes x female!reader

summary: you and bucky share a complicated past. you tried to be together many times, but it never worked out very good. so you decided to avoid each other—but it wasn’t that easy.

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors don’t interact, smut, mention of reader dating, slight jealous!bucky, fingering, unprotected p in v, dom!bucky, & some more i think (i’m still bad in writing warnings, rip)

word count: 2.4K >

author’s note: and here i am with another tfatws bucky fic. can you blame me? i mean, he’s just… ughh, so hot. enjoy! xx

english isn’t my first language.

It was already late in the night, when you snuck back into the Avengers compound.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you stepped into the main area and headed straight for the bar, pouring yourself a drink.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice made you turn around abruptly, and you placed a hand over your heart when your gaze fell on Bucky, who was sitting on the couch, one leg casually crossed over the other.

“Oh my god, Bucky. You scared the shit out of me,” you murmured, taking a sip of the whiskey—one of the most expensive ones you could take.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked in a low voice, making you roll your eyes.

“Out. Since when do you care?” you replied, pouring another shot of whiskey into your glass.

Bucky did nothing but glare at you dangerously, and you leaned back against the counter.

“Stop looking at me like that, Barnes. Maybe try smiling a little more. Might make you look less threatening,” you said, bringing the glass back to your lips.

“You smell like cheap cologne,” Bucky growled, “Which means you were close to someone.” His words made you laugh humorlessly as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Well done, Sherlock. That happens sometimes… when you date,” you shot back, pushing yourself off the counter. “He was really nice, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

Bucky stood up so suddenly, you paused. He walked toward you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, his gaze locked on yours.

“Is that so? What makes you so sure he’s good for you?” You raised your eyebrows and let out a dry snort.

“Are you serious?,” you asked, like he just made a very bad joke. “Because he makes me happy, dumbass. And with him, for the first time in a long time, I feel like it could actually work.”

Bucky clenched his jaw as you spoke, and the look in his eyes turned into something dangerous.

Something promising.

And no matter how much that look affected you, you knew it couldn’t work between you and him—it never did.

“Listen, I don’t know when you started caring for me again, Bucky. But we already tried this whole thing, and it didn’t work. Why would it be different now?”

You raised your chin as he took another step toward you, his presence intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and it made you shiver.

You hated this.

Hated how he made you feel every single time he got close. He was like a drug you could never really get over. With those steel-blue eyes, that dark hair, and the scruff shadowing his cheeks and jaw.

“Maybe because we’re different now,” he said quietly, raising his hand and brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Another shiver ran down your spine, making you close your eyes.

“Bucky…” you whispered, opening your eyes again as you gently removed his hand from your face. “I might be different… but you’re still the same. You’ll never be able to let anyone into your heart.” With that, you walked past him. Or tried to.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. You closed your eyes when he softly pulled you back, his metal fingers brushing against your jaw. “Let’s try again. Let me show you how much I’ve changed.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, your heart ached. So you opened your eyes slowly, looking into his.

“I want to believe you. I really do. But I think it’s too late for us,” you breathed, pulling your hand free from his grip. “I hope you find a way to let someone in one day. That’s my biggest wish for you.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. Because if you had, you weren’t sure what would happen next. “Please don’t come after me.”

And with that, you left him standing there.

. ⊹*ﾟ･ﾟ｡. ⭑.*｡･ﾟ⊹*.

With a heavy breath, you leaned your back against the closed door of your room and ran your hands through your hair.

In that second, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a new message from your date.

That was nice. Wanna meet again? I have a good feeling about this.

Another message followed.

About us.

You let your head fall back against the door with a soft thud and pressed your phone to your chest. You wanted to see him again. He was sweet, loving—a real gentleman.

He made you feel good. And you knew he’d treat you like a princess. Just the way you always wanted to be treated.

But then you thought about Bucky… and how he made you feel in every other way.

You remembered his hands on your body, his lips on your skin.

He was everything you’d ever dreamed of. Attractive. Dominant. And so goddamn good in bed.

And suddenly, there was a spark.

A spark of hope that maybe, if you couldn’t get inside his heart, you could save him from whatever he was so afraid of.

And that maybe… just maybe, he was finally ready to let you in.

Your phone landed on the bed as another message popped up but you were already at the door.

As you opened it, you froze.

Bucky stood in front of you.

He had followed you—even though you’d told him not to. His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he didn’t let you.

“I know what you want to say,” he said, voice low. “But I can’t stay away from you any longer. This whole thing, staying away from each other… it was a bad idea.”

And there it was again.

That spark.

You wanted to stay away from him. Wanted to hate him. But here you were, seconds from going insane if you had to be without him any longer.

He was like a magnet, pulling you to him. And no matter how hard you tried to fight against it, the stronger became the pull.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You fisted your hands in his shirt, pulled him down to you, and pressed your lips against his.

It caught him off guard—he stumbled forward, returning the kiss as his hands cupped your face.

He kissed you until you lost all sense of reality, his tongue gently gliding against yours.

“I saw you,” he murmured when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. You furrowed your brows, about to ask what he meant. But again, he didn’t let you.

“I was outside. Watching you with that guy. And when I saw how happy you looked… I knew. Knew it should be me making you laugh like that. Making you smile like that.”

His lips touched your forehead. Soft. Tender. Loving. You shuddered as he gently pushed you back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

Your breath hitched as his words echoed in your ears, and you let him guide you further inside.

“Bucky,” you whispered but he didn’t stop.

“I know… maybe it’s already too late for us,” he breathed. “But I need you to say it again. Say it and I’ll leave. I’ll never touch you again. Not even if you beg me.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing hard. He was ready to let you go, even though he wanted to be with you. He would let you walk away—just so you could be happy.

Even if it meant being with another man.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you opened your eyes again. You had already made your decision.

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you,” you whispered and kissed him again.

Bucky returned the kiss but only for a moment, before pulling back. Your breathing was heavy as your eyes met his, and suddenly you saw it.

That dangerous spark—the one that said he was ready to claim what had always been his.

It happened so fast, you didn’t even have time to react before your back hit the wall behind you.

His hands gripped your blouse, tugging hard and ripping it open. Buttons scattered across the floor, and the fabric followed soon after. His lips were on your skin, kissing you like he was addicted.

You closed your eyes, your head falling back against the wall, while his touch sent delicious shivers down your spine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed against your skin, making you smile.

Your fingers threaded through his dark hair and he hummed, satisfied. His hands slid to your back, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside without hesitation.

Just as he leaned in to kiss your newly exposed skin, you stopped him with your palms pressed against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“That’s not fair,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip, your hands slowly traveling downward. “You’re still dressed like you could leave any second.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, a shiver running through him, and you smiled again.

But just as your fingers brushed over his stomach, he grabbed your wrist, pinning you against the wall with the weight of his body.

“Sorry, doll. Not tonight.” His voice was a low growl, and you didn’t even have time to protest.

His head dipped down, his mouth closing around your nipple, sucking hard, until a whimper escaped your lips. Heat began to build deep in your stomach, spreading like a wildfire, consuming every clear thought in your mind.

Then, without warning, he pulled away.

His hands slid under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, pressing you back against the wall as he captured your lips in a kiss that left you breathless. A moan escaped you, swallowed instantly by his mouth.

“Bucky—” you gasped as he turned from the wall, never breaking the kiss, and carried you to the bed where he laid you down gently on the mattress.

His fingers found the button of your pants, undoing them and sliding them down your legs. You watched him, biting your lip, until you were left wearing only your panties.

Still fully clothed, Bucky leaned over your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. A soft gasp left your lips as his cool vibranium fingers brushed against your ankle.

The shiver that ran through you was intense as his hand slid higher, to where you needed him the most. The moment he touched you there with the metal, you moaned desperately.

He wanted to switch hands—but you stopped him, your palm pressing against the vibranium.

“No… I want you. All of you,” you whispered, and his eyes widened slightly.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

You took his hand and guided it back between your legs. He kissed you again—softly this time—before gripping your panties and ripping them off your body in one movement.

His fingers glided through your wetness and you moaned, your legs falling open for him, giving him better access.

Bucky looked up at you as he slowly pushed one metal finger inside, making you clench around him instantly.

You whimpered, arching into his touch, desperate for more.

“God, you have no idea how hard it is not to fuck you right now.” His words made you tremble.

“Then why are you holding back?” you challenged, breathless.

He growled low in his throat and suddenly his hand was gone, leaving behind a pulse of need.

Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, baring his chest to you, and you couldn’t look away. His jeans followed, then his boxers—he was already rock hard, and it made your whole body ache.

He didn’t let you wait.

Grabbing your ankles, he pulled you closer until you were directly in front of him—naked and completely at his mercy.

You watched, breath caught in your throat, as he fisted his cock, gave it a few slow strokes, and lined himself up with your entrance.

Then, without warning, he thrusted inside.

You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut.

But Bucky didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, starting to move. Slowly at first.

Another moan escaped your lips, loud, and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, doll. Or do you want the others to hear you?” he murmured.

But you didn’t care anymore.

You pushed yourself up and flipped him over, straddling him. He twitched deep inside you as you leaned over him, your mouth close to his ear.

“You should be careful,” you whispered. “In the end, it’s you they’ll hear.” Then you began to move your hips slowly, and both of you moaned.

He felt so good, and you wanted this to end never.

“Fuck, doll. You are so perfect.”

His voice was full of desire as his fingers dug into your thighs—firm enough to leave bruises, but not that it hurt.

“God, Bucky—” you moaned, tossing your head back as you moved faster.

Suddenly, you were underneath him again, with your hands pinned above your head.

“As much as I love seeing you ride my cock,” he growled, “I prefer you down here.”

You whimpered, too lost in the moment to form words. Then he kissed you again and began to move. Harder, faster. It was too much, and not enough.

He brought you right to the edge. Exactly where he wanted you.

“Bucky—please…I can’t—”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure built, threatening to overwhelm you.

“Cum for me, doll,” he moaned into your ear.

And you did.

With a scream of his name, you shattered beneath him, the orgasm crashing over you and making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

Bucky didn’t stop. He fucked you through your high, chasing his own release, and moments later, he came too, spilling into you with a deep, broken groan.

Your bodies trembled, sweat clinging to your skin. His forehead pressed to yours, your breaths mingled as you tried to come down together.

“That was…” you began, but he silenced you with a kiss.

“That wasn’t everything at all,” he murmured. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on, doll.” You whimpered as he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

And as he crawled down your body, his eyes locked with yours, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him.

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𑣲

taglist: @mandoalorian // @houseofaegon

[if you want to join my bucky taglist, please let me know <3]

#vani 💌#everyone drop everything and go read this masterpiece

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mandoalorian · 4 days ago

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if steve kemp made u a birthday cake would you eat it

turning 24 in chicago today

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mandoalorian · 4 days ago

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turning 24 in chicago today

#rach talks #personal

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mandoalorian · 5 days ago

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9hr flight gives me so much time to work on mechanic!bucky stuff 😩😩

#rach talks #mechanic!bucky #bucky barnes

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mandoalorian · 5 days ago

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can you hear me crying?? your words are so kind, thank you so much my love 🥺🥺 i am so glad you enjoyed it<3