sad-not-glad - Tumblr blog

sad-not-glad · 5 months ago

Text

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list.

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all.

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.”

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night…

—

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you.

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl.

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it.

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you.

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees.

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought.

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again.

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.”

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore.

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered.

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music.

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.”

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap.

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room.

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His.

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man.

But no.

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either.

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest.

“She left me.”

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may.

—

But now Bucky knew where you were.

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions.

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you.

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all.

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you.

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV.

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods.

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily.

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it.

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered?

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap.

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs.

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him.

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly.

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.”

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you.

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…”

That’s it.

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away.

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though.

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home.

But that ended up not happening.

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance.

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind.

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here?

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?”

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out.

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed.

“Bucky, I—,”

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.”

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care.

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.”

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did.

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough.

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry.

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman.

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear.

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.”

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in.

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive.

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough.

More, more, more. You mentally chanted.

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably.

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.”

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?”

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…”

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out.

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?”

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you.

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding.

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you.

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt.

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed.

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly.

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,”

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.”

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers.

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.”

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look.

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him.

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it.

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit.

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so…

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less.

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be.

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it.

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered.

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.”

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully.

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.”

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.”

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too.

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia.

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend.

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.”

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.”

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.”

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.”

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.”

You nodded in confirmation.

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned.

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly.

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.”

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.”

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,”

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently.

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.”

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.”

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?”

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply.

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again.

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here.

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.”

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice.

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,”

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,”

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.”

Bucky frowned. “Baby…”

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.”

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.”

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen.

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now.

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space.

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.”

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.”

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?”

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.”

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone.

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you.

—

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes.

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well.

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already.

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased.

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time.

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours.

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.”

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again.

“And you’re mine.”

—

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?”

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. ��I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen.

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second.

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought.

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable.

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away.

“What is it?” You asked.

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?”

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you.

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.”

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?”

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle.

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.”

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow.

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.”

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough.

“Bucky.” You warned.

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.”

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,”

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,”

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.”

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face.

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.”

You sniffled. “Buck…”

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.”

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked.

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could.

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you.

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased.

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly.

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried.

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants.

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again.

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…”

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you.

This time, he made you a different promise.

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.”

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

6K notes · View notes

sad-not-glad · 6 months ago

Text

Discipline (Blue-collar Bucky #2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Brat-taming (Bucky). Edging/Orgasm Denial. Power Play. Overstimulation. Spanking. A sprinkle of Degradation. Nipple play. Dub-con Elements (induced paralysis).

Summary: Bucky made the rules, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break them. And when he does, she’s more than ready to make him pay for it.

Word Count: 5.7k.

note: I just had to do this. Out of all my versions of Bucky, this is the only one who deserved it -so far-.

Also, I know it's unlikely that a simple taser could paralyze him, but come on, play along.

Bucky never planned on coming back after that first time.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a simple, unspoken exchange that neither of them would dwell on. He’d walked into the bakery to pick up the crew’s lunch, and by the time he walked out, his hands weren’t the only things covered in flour. He figured that was it. A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness.

And yet, here he was. Again.

The scent of fresh bread and warm sugar wrapped around him as soon as he stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed, and he saw her glance up from behind the counter. He didn’t miss the way her lips parted slightly when she recognized him, how her breath hitched in that barely perceptible way that made his cock twitch. She recovered quickly, though, offering him a polite, almost indifferent smile, like she wasn’t squeezing her thighs together under that frilly apron, like she hadn’t begged him to fuck her in the back room not even a week ago.

He smirked.

He sauntered toward the counter, tossing his gloves onto the surface with a lazy flick of his wrist. His vibranium fingers tapped against the display case absently as he pretended to glance over the pastries. "You know," he drawled, tilting his head, "I think I'm developing a sweet tooth."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so?"

"Mm." He nodded, dragging his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "Keep finding myself coming back here. Weird, huh?"

She snorted, shaking her head as she reached beneath the counter for the already-prepared order for the workers. "Yeah, real weird. Almost like you have a job that sends you here regularly."

He liked this little game they played, this dance where she pretended his presence didn’t affect her, and he pretended he wasn’t counting down the hours until he saw her again.

"Convenient, isn’t it?" He leaned against the counter, letting his gaze flick over her slowly, deliberately. "Guess I’ll just have to keep coming back."

She rolled her eyes, setting the bag of sandwiches in front of him with a little more force than necessary. "Try not to strain yourself."

He chuckled, reaching for the bag but making no immediate move to leave. Instead, he let his fingers graze hers in a way that wasn’t exactly an accident. She tensed, just for a second, but it was enough for him to notice. He could see it in the way her pupils dilated, in the way her chest rose ever so slightly as she inhaled.

Yeah. She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to think.

Good.

He stepped back, slow and measured, still smirking as he adjusted the bag in his grip. "See you around, muffin."

And just like that, he was gone.

----

The visits kept happening.

Sure, the foreman had asked him to handle the lunch pickups a few more times, but even when he didn’t, Bucky found reasons to stop by. Maybe he needed a drink. Maybe he was suddenly interested in croissants. Maybe he was just bored.

The excuse didn’t matter. The outcome was the same.

He’d show up, she’d pretend not to notice him lingering too long, and by the end of the day, he’d have her pressed against a wall somewhere, muffling her breathy moans against his lips.

Not that he was thinking about it too hard.

It was casual. No expectations, no obligations. She got off, he got off, and they both moved on. Just as he told her, the only thing he can offer her at the moment.

So why the fuck was he in front of the community center, squinting at a stupid flyer about free baking classes?

He stood there for a long moment with his arms crossed, his jaw ticking as he stared at the neatly printed words. "Learn to bake! Free classes every Tuesday & Thursday evening! No experience necessary."

Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head at himself. This was stupid. And yet…

The class was across the street from the bakery. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to sign up. He’d learn something, sure. Might be useful. But more importantly, he’d get to spend more time with her. And -if he was being honest- he wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea of some random asshole getting too comfortable around her in a class full of strangers.

He knew how men were.

And he was the only one allowed to make her squirm.

Bucky smirked, turning toward the entrance with a sense of purpose. This was going to be fun.

----

He had expected her to be even a little flustered when she saw him walk into the class on that first day. Maybe she’d stumble over her words, maybe her eyes would widen in surprise, or -if he was lucky- she’d pull him aside and demand to know what the hell he was doing there.

But she didn’t.

She looked right at him, blinked once, and simply said, “Find a seat, we’re about to start.”

That was it. No reaction. No acknowledgment of their situation. Just... professionalism.

He hated it.

Not that he wanted special treatment. But it irked him that she could turn it off so easily like she didn’t spend countless nights milking his cock, moaning his name like a prayer. It was almost insulting.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to get under her skin.

It started small. Little things.

When she instructed them to knead their dough for ten minutes, he’d lean back against the counter after five and smirk. “Pretty sure my hands are strong enough. You wanna check?” just loud enough for the class to hear, just enough to make a few people chuckle.

If she ignored him, he escalated.

In the second class, when she passed by his station to inspect his work, he pressed the pipping bag in a very suggestive way and smeared some frosting on his hands. Then, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe of buttercream from his knuckle, watching her reaction closely.

She didn’t waver. Didn’t blush. Didn’t react at all.

And that pissed him off.

By the lack of reaction, he knew she was holding back. And if she was holding back, that meant she cared. At least a little.

Which meant he had to push.

By the third class, the students were catching on to his antics. A few laughed along with him, some just shook their heads, but one particular moment set something off in her.

She demonstrated how to pipe pastry cream onto cupcakes and showed them the proper wrist movement. It should have been a simple, uneventful lesson.

Then he had to open his mouth.

“Real delicate touch there, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning forward on the counter, flexing his forearms against the surface. His voice was smooth, too smooth, dripping with mock appreciation. “Bet that comes in handy for other things, huh?” A few students gasped. One let out a choked laugh.

And she?

She froze. Just for a split second.

Bucky saw it, the slight tightening of her grip on the piping bag, the way her lashes fluttered, the flicker of heat behind her composed expression.

But when she turned to him, her face was perfectly calm. And that was when he knew he was in trouble. Because instead of snapping at him, instead of rolling her eyes or brushing him off like she had before, she smiled.

“Oh yeah, it’s actually really, really handy. You’ll see, eventually.”

-----

When the class ended, she just looked at him with a neutral stare. "Barnes, a word? Since you are more than capable, be a dear and help me carry the supplies to the storage room, will you?" he nodded, grabbing almost all the stuff that was already clean into a couple of boxes and followed her toward a dimly lit hallway.

When they reached their destination, the door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the rest of the world in the storage room. The scent of flour and vanilla lingered in the air, mixing with something heavier: the unspoken tension crackling between them like a live wire.

Bucky dropped the boxes onto the floor with a dull thud, dusting his hands off on his jeans before turning to face her. She was already watching him, arms crossed, chin lifted in that quiet, unreadable way that made his hackles rise.

"What do you think you’re doing in my class, Bucky?"

His smirk was instant, practiced. "Learning."

She scoffed. "Don’t give me that crap. You made it very clear what our thing was: fuck buddies, no strings, no extra credit." Her expression remained impassive, but her words hit sharper than he expected. "So why the hell did you sign up?"

Bucky bristled.

Yeah, fine. Maybe he overstepped. Maybe this was a little more than what they agreed to. But something about her tone, about the way she looked at him like he was some inconvenient disruption instead of the man who had her coming undone in his hands, made his jaw clench.

His smirk turned sharper, edged with something almost mean. "Well, let me remind you. I may not be the perfect student, but at least I’m honest about who I am." He took a step forward, and his voice dropped just enough to make the space between them feel too small. "You, on the other hand, acting all high and mighty just because you’re wearing a teacher’s badge..." His voice carried, echoing in the empty room as he loomed over her.

She narrowed her gaze, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Oh, don’t worry," she said, voice deceptively sweet. "I’ll teach you a lesson, alright."

Bucky exhaled a quiet laugh, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head down to look at her. "A lesson, huh?" he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. "Sounds like you wanna play principal for a day." He shifted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Well, go ahead then. Show me what you’ve got."

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Which, if he was being honest, kind of turned him on. He could feel it, the twisted little thrill beneath his irritation. A part of him craved this, to have her undivided attention, to see what she thought would be enough to discipline him. It was a fucked-up kind of want, born from the way she brushed him off in front of her students, pretending like he was just another guy instead of the one who made her tremble behind closed doors.

But he’d be damned if he admitted it aloud.

Instead, he held her gaze, waiting. Daring her to make the next move.

He barely had time to process the sigh that left her lips before she spoke. "Just be useful and give me that bucket over there. Unlike you, I still have things to do."

His brow quirked, amused by the audacity of it, but he humored her, rolling his eyes as he turned to grab it. "Yeah, yeah, princess. Don’t get your apron in a twist."

And then was when she did it.

Years of perfect training, years of being Hydra’s fist, a ghost on the battlefield, an apex predator in human skin… and yet he didn’t see it coming.

The zap of electricity hit him hard, sharp and unforgiving against the side of his neck. His entire body locked up instantly, and his nerves short-circuited as every muscle seized at once. His breath caught in his throat, his vision blurred at the edges, and before he could do anything, before he could even curse her name, he felt himself falling.

But she didn’t just let him collapse, no. She guided him down. Lowered him carefully. Like he was something fragile, something that mattered.

It was almost insulting.

His chest hit the floor first, then his head followed, resting against the side of his arm, his vibranium fingers twitching as they struggled to respond. He wasn’t unconscious, far from it. For the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes was vulnerable.

And she? She simply stood up, walked toward the door, and locked it. The click of the deadbolt sent a slow, crawling shiver down his spine.

Well, shit. Maybe he should have taken this class more seriously.

Bucky let out a strained growl, and his breath was uneven as he fought against the lingering paralysis in his limbs. "You backstabbing vixen," he bit out, roughly but undeniably amused beneath the indignation. "Using a fucking taser on me?"

Despite his predicament, despite the absolute betrayal of being taken down so effortlessly, his eyes still flicked to her legs as she moved. He also took in the way her skirt hugged her curves, the sway of her hips as she stalked toward him. Even flat on his stomach, and his nerves still tingling from the electric bite, he was Bucky Barnes. Cocky, stubborn, and utterly incorrigible.

That arrogance barely had time to settle in before she reached for something on the nearby shelf. A ruler.

Not one of those flimsy plastic ones. No, this was an old, thick wooden ruler, the kind meant for use on chalkboards. Or as he will discover, putting cocky super-soldiers in their place. His brow furrowed slightly as she turned back and closed the space between them, ruler in hand, with an unreadable expression.

Then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yanked them down -underwear included- leaving his pert, pale ass bare to the cool air of the storage room.

Bucky’s spine stiffened.

“What the fuck-?!” His face contorted in a mixture of outrage and mortification as his body betrayed him, heat prickling beneath his skin as the reality of his situation dawned. He tried to move, to push himself up, but the taser’s aftershocks still hummed through his system, leaving his muscles sluggish and uncooperative. The best he could do was shift slightly, but even that only served to expose himself further.

Then she spoke.

"You'll learn today, Sarge,” she mused, tapping the ruler lightly against his bare skin as a warning. “That you might be the fearsome Winter Soldier out there on the streets…” The ruler pressed against the curve of his ass, not hitting, just…resting. Teasing. “But I’m not afraid of the needy man who came in his pants not too long ago after just a little grinding."

Bucky froze.

Heat flared in his chest, creeping up his neck, and across his cheeks. She did not just say that. His mind flashed back to the bakery’s back room one afternoon, to the way she had ridden his clothed cock with desperate little whimpers, to the sticky, shameful mess he had left behind, the evidence of just how easily she had undone him.

His fingers twitched against the floor. His face burned.

“Y-you…” His voice faltered, but before he could string together something -anything- to claw back his dignity, she pressed the flat side of the ruler firmly against his skin. The sensation sent a jolt through his gut, and his stomach coiled tight with something unnameable. Humiliation? Frustration? Anticipation?

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Because then-

Smack!

A sharp, biting pain bloomed across his sensitive flesh.

He gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, curling his hands into fists as he swallowed the instinctive whimper threatening to escape his lips.

“You don’t get to talk if I don’t talk to you first.”

Smack!

“I won’t tolerate this bratty attitude inside these walls, won’t have you jeopardizing my job just because you can’t control your mouth.”

Smack!

"You think you’re so rough, huh?" She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something syrupy sweet, something dangerous. "Newsflash, Sergeant: you're just a bratty, horny little thing who needs to be put in his place."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Each sharp crack of the ruler on his ass sent a fresh sting through his body, each strike perfectly placed, each one burning a little hotter than the last.

His thighs tensed, his hips shifted, as if his own damn body was reaching for it, arching into it despite himself. His cock twitched against the hard wooden floor, and fuck, that was a problem.

His breath hitched, the telltale prickle of unshed tears burning at the corners of his eyes, not from pain, not really, but from how fucking overwhelmed he felt.

He didn’t know whether to curse her or beg for more.

And judging by the way she was watching him, ruler poised for another strike,

She knew it.

“Muffin, p-please…” Bucky choked out between sharp, stinging smacks, his voice raw with something he couldn’t name, something that tasted too much like desperation.

The floor beneath him was merciless, rough wood pressing into his chest, his hardened, pierced nipples rubbing harshly through the fabric of his shirt. Every jolt of sensation, every sharp crack of the ruler against his skin, fed into the unbearable pressure coiling low in his stomach. Shame and arousal twisted together like an inseparable duo. And fuck, his cock was aching, straining, leaking, trapped between his trembling body and the cold, unyielding ground.

She tutted, watching him squirm beneath her. “Since you used the magic word -please- I’ll humor you,” she cooed.

Her icy fingers, smoothed over his scorched skin, caressing the very spots she had punished. Bucky’s breath hitched. The contrast between the sting of the ruler and the gentle chill of her touch was almost unbearable, a heady mix of pain and comfort that made his thighs twitch. His body, traitorous and weak, leaned into her hand, silently begging for more.

“Are you going to behave around me?” she asked, in a sweet, knowing tone.

His throat worked around the lump forming there, as the humiliation and need kept dancing inside him. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, to reclaim his dominance, to snarl something cocky, hurtful, something that would undo the growing control she had over him.

But instead-

“…Yes, Muffin,” he whispered. It was barely a breath, barely more than a surrender. “I’ll behave. I promise.” The words felt foreign, bitter on his tongue, but they left his mouth without hesitation. And the worst part? He meant them.

Because the desire to please her, to earn her approval, to make her touch him again, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed against the wooden floor, shamefully wetting it with pre-cum.

She must have noticed, because she reached down, wrapping her fingers around his aching length with a grip that was mocking and possessive.

“What’s this?” she mused, giving his hard, neglected cock a deliberate squeeze.

Bucky’s entire body jerked at her touch, a choked, pathetic moan escaping his throat as his hips bucked helplessly into her hand.

“Are you turned on because I put your bratty ass in its place, hmm?”

His cheeks burned at the realization.

Yes. He fucking was.

The evidence was right there, dripping onto the floor for her to see.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “Look at the mess you’re making.” She stroked him slowly, deliberately, gripping just firm enough to keep him on edge. “I think I’ll have to teach you a lesson about taking care of the establishment’s property, Sarge.”

His still-paralyzed body betrayed him, his head thrashed side to side in a futile attempt to regain control. But she was in charge now. And she was going to prove it.

“You defied my authority in front of the class today,” she murmured, tightening her grip for emphasis. “You can fuck me stupid in whatever situationship bubble we have, but I’m going to make sure that what has been transpiring in my classroom won’t happen again” Before he could process what she meant, she moved, flipping him onto his back with just enough force to remind him of how little power he had at this moment.

He sucked in a sharp breath, as she studied him—watched the way he twitched under her gaze, helpless and humiliated. Then, with calculated ease, she reached up, pulled the elastic band from her perfectly pinned bun, and-

Tied it at the base of his cock.

Bucky’s lungs stalled, a strangled whimper tore from his throat as the tight constriction bit into his swollen flesh, cutting off the blood flow.

Fuck.

His cock pulsed violently in protest, the restriction making his entire body thrash, but she didn’t stop there. No. She lowered herself, grazing her lips through the tip of his deep red, neglected length, and kissed it. A high, desperate sound tore from Bucky’s throat before he could stop it, and his hips jerked upwards as if begging for more.

She licked slowly, teasingly, flicking her tongue along his leaking slit, gathering his shameful arousal before pulling back just enough to watch him fall apart beneath her.

“F-fuck, Muffin-“ His voice cracked, and his muscles coiled tight as the heat surged through his body, building his orgasm. But then-

Nothing.

His release, -so close, so inevitable, so fucking unbearable- never came.

His eyes shot open, and his breath ragged as the realization hit him. She was denying him, trapping him on the edge and refusing to let him fall.

She tilted her head, with mock sympathy. “What is it, Sarge?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Does the bratty little soldier need to cum?”

Bucky’s throat bobbed, his eyes wide as he struggled to form words. But before he could beg, before he could even think of it, she pressed her lips on his throbbing cockhead once more and purred. “Well… you won’t get to.”

His entire body convulsed, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream as the her words penetrated his brain.

She leaned in. “If you had paid attention in class, you’d know that it’s physically impossible until I remove the tourniquet from the piping bag.” She explained with amusement while swirling her tongue around his leaking tip.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, and his muscles tensed violently as his cock twitched uselessly against the unrelenting knot, pulsing with the orgasm that would never come. His body shook, his skin flushed, and his desperation got humiliatingly obvious.

He whimpered, something raw and desperate spilling from his throat as his cock throbbed violently, aching under the unrelenting pressure of the tight band still restricting him. Every pulse was torture, every slick twitch a reminder of just how thoroughly trapped he was in the pleasure she refused to give him.

“I-I’ll behave, Muffin,” he pleaded, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Fuck, I’ll drop the classes if that’s what you want, just, please…”

The admission burned him, but he’d lost any sense of shame earlier, at the moment his cock started dripping all over the floor. He needed her to touch him, to finish this, to let him fall apart, and he didn’t care what it took.

But she?

She simply tilted her head, unmoved, watching him like he was some fascinating little puzzle she was still piecing together.

“I’m not convinced,” she mused, softly. “After all, you’re the fearsome Winter Soldier, and I? Just a simple baker.” She let the words linger, let them sink deep into his buzzing, over-sensitive mind, before shifting her focus -completely ignoring his tortured cock- and zeroing in on his chest.

Bucky barely had time to process before she moved, sliding the fabric of his shirt up, up, up, exposing the broad plane of his scarred torso, the dark ink of his tattoos, and-

The silver bars piercing through his already-hardened nipples.

He twitched violently at the first brush of cool air, and his breath stuttered, clenching his hands into fists against the floor.

She smiled. “I have to make a point, you know.”

Then, with agonizing precision, she dragged her fingers over one of the piercings, then letting her nails scrape just barely against the sensitive flesh.

Bucky’s entire body jerked.

“F-fuck!” The strangled cry tore from his throat, hips buckling helplessly into nothing as his cock twitched pathetically, still bound, still denied. His nipples had always been sensitive, but this, this was too much.

And she knew it.

She leaned in closer, ghosting her warm breath over his exposed chest, watching the way he trembled beneath her.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, toying with the pierced nub, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger before giving it a sharp little tug.

Bucky shouted, the noise wrecked, broken, and fuck, fuck, fuck- his cock ached so badly he could barely think. His hips lifted uselessly, but she kept her focus above, kept him on the razor’s edge of something devastatingly unsatisfying.

Then, without warning, she lowered her head and took one into her mouth. He choked on air, arching his back sharply as her hot tongue laved over the hardened bud before sucking, teasing, biting just enough to make his thighs tremble.

Every little movement sent sharp, electric pleasure bolting straight to his cock, a cock that was still trapped, still denied, still leaking helplessly onto his lower belly.

“F-fuck, Muffin-” he gasped, in a high and wrecked tone, as his chest heaved beneath her mouth when she moved to the other nipple, repeating the same exquisite torture.

His thighs shook again, his muscles locked, and his cock twitched violently… but his orgasm remained agonizingly out of reach.

She stared at his wet, tender nipples, the silver bars glistening under the dim light, and hummed in satisfaction. Then without a word she moved, straddling him, settling her weight over his hips, pressing herself down against his aching, trapped cock.

Bucky’s vision blurred at the sudden slick, teasing friction of her pussy dragging along his length, sending a jolt of pure, blinding ecstasy through his still-paralyzed body. His hips bucked involuntarily, chasing more, chasing anything, seeking relief that he already knew she wouldn’t give him.

“Ahhhn… just, please,” he moaned, voice thick with need, desperation, surrender. Then, through the haze of pleasure, something darker surfaced. His teeth clenched, “If you know what’s good for you-”

She cut him off immediately.

“Poor, defenseless Sergeant,” she mocked, in a tone drenched with sickeningly sweet amusement as she slammed herself down onto his cock, impaling herself fully in one smooth motion.

Bucky’s head snapped back, and a hoarse scream tore from his throat as her slick heat swallowed him whole, gripping him like a vice.

“See,” she continued, settling herself above him, grinding her hips to fully seat herself on his fat cock, “you don’t get to threaten me, Sarge.”

She began to ride him mercilessly, bouncing with wild abandon, taking exactly what she wanted from him.

“This is a valuable lesson,” she panted, rolling her hips as her fingers dug into his tense, flexing abdomen for leverage. “I’m going to discipline you so every time you think about disrespecting me in front of other people…” Her nails scraped down his stomach, and her pussy clenched tighter around him as she rode him harder. “…you’ll start leaking like a fucking faucet.”

Bucky’s back arched violently, his body betraying him completely as each ruthless downward thrust drove him closer, closer, closer-

“F-fuck, Doll!” he howled, his voice raw, wrecked, echoing off the walls. “Y-you’re killing me here!”

Each intense, wet slide of her inner walls around him had him spiraling, hovering right at the edge of relief, his entire body coiled so tightly he thought he might snap apart. The sight before him, her breasts bouncing despite being confined by her bra, her moans and panting filling the room, the sheer fucking confidence in the way she rode him like she owned him…

It was too much.

A pathetic, broken sound left his lips as she used him, took him, denied him.

“Shut it.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through his haze of pleasure. “I gave you tons of opportunities, and you kept pushing further and further.” She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his, and her breath came hot and heavy against his ear. “This is what you get for being horrible to me.”

Bucky whimpered, and his hips trembled beneath her, as his cock twitched violently inside her tight heat.

“I won’t take the hair tie off your cock,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his sweat-damp skin, “you won’t get to cum.”

His eyes flew open, and his breath stuttered.

“Me, on the other hand?”

Her fingers slipped between them, finding her swollen, needy clit, and she moaned loudly, circling it in quick, precise strokes as she chased her own release. “I’m gonna cream all over your fat, bratty cock.”

Bucky’s whimpers of pleasure morphed into anguished wails as she rode him mercilessly, grinding down harder, clamping around him tighter with every roll of her hips.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice breaking with desperation. His cock was throbbing, pulsing, aching, each squeeze of her pussy only made the pressure worse, worse, worse-

“I can’t- I’m going to- Ahh, FUCK!”

But nothing happened.

His body wanted to cum, needed to release the unbearable tension, but the hair tie held firm in place, trapping him in a state of endless, excruciating denial.

She, on the other hand…

Her rhythm stuttered, and her movements turned erratic as her moans grew desperate, and her brows knitted together tightly as she neared her climax. “So big, so fat, Sarge,” she mewled, trembling as she rode her orgasm out over him, soaking him with her slick.

Each pulse of her pussy sent pain-pleasure waves radiating through his cock, threatening to tear him apart. Bucky was shaking, thrashing, begging-

“Fuck!” he gasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. “Stop, I can’t-”

Despite his pleas, he couldn’t deny the way her praise sent a twisted thrill through him. It fueled his ego, his need to please her, even as his body screamed for release.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she lifted herself, sliding off his cock with a wet, slick sound. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his entire body trembled as he stared up at her. His eyes were glassy, his nipples red and swollen, and his shaft almost painfully engorged.

She looked him over critically, tapping her finger against her lips as if thinking.

Then, without warning… she spat.

A slow, deliberate string of saliva landed on the tip of his cock, glistening, mixing with his pre-cum, adding more slick to his aching, desperate length.

His gaze snapped down, staring at the wetness on his cock, with his pulse hammering. She smirked.

Then, kneeling beside him, she wrapped her fingers around his twitching, neglected cock and started jerking him off. “Do you wanna cum?” she asked, mockingly sweet.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his hips bucked wildly into her grasp.

He nodded quickly, so quickly.

“T-thank you, Muffin,” he whispered with gratitude and lingering lust. “I promise, I’ll be good for you.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were hollow. Deep down, he knew he’d push her again. Provoke her again. And oh, when he’ll regain control of his body…

She tightened her grip, stroking him harder, faster.

“Beg for it.”

Bucky snapped.

“Please, Muffin, please let me cum!” he whined, pleaded, and sobbed. “I need it so fucking badly! I can’t take it anymore! I’ll do anything- please, PLEASE let me finish!” his body shuddered violently as he begged.

She hummed, pleased.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Since you begged so pretty.” She pulled the hair tie free. “Cum for me, Sarge.”

And the instant the band snapped free, the dam burst.

Bucky’s cock erupted, thick ropes of hot cum splattered across her hand, his stomach, and pooled messily onto the floor beneath him. His back arched violently, and every nerve in his body was ignited as an earth-shattering orgasm tore through his entire body.

A guttural roar ripped from his throat, his hips jerked wildly, and his cock twitched and pulsed nonstop as if making up for every second of denial.

“Ah, ah, ah- YES!” he howled, as his vision blurred at the edges, the intensity of his orgasm consumed. “FUCK, IT FEELS SO GOOD!”

His body convulsed, the aftershocks hitting hard, every lingering stroke of her fingers making his overstimulated cock twitch helplessly in her grasp. He had never felt so wrecked, so drained, so utterly destroyed, and yet…

He was already thinking about the next time.

She held him just a little longer, letting his final weak spurts dribble down his spent shaft before finally, slowly, releasing him.

And then -without a single word of praise or sympathy- she wiped her cum-coated hand on his shirt.

Bucky barely had the energy to glare, but his jaw clenched, his cheeks burned, and a fresh pang of humiliation mixed with the post-orgasmic bliss.

Her eyes flicked over his wrecked form. “I estimate the taser’s effect will wear off in about half an hour,” she said matter-of-factly, brushing invisible dust off her skirt as if she hadn’t just broken him into pieces. “So,” she continued, leaning down just enough to press a single teasing peck to his damp forehead, “you have plenty of time to reflect on your behavior.”

With that, she straightened, adjusting her skirt back into place, retrieving the wooden ruler from where she had left it, and placing it neatly back on the shelf. Then, without looking back, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

She just…left.

Bucky watched her go, helpless, spent, ruined, still lying in a pool of his own cum on the floor.

His breath was uneven, his body still tingled, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the ceiling, floating in the limbo between debauched satisfaction and simmering frustration. But as the post-orgasmic haze began to clear, as the sting of humiliation faded beneath something darker, sharper, his thoughts slowly began to shift.

Her parting words echoed in his mind.

The taser’s effects will wear off soon.

And when they did?

Payback’s a bitch, Muffin. And she wouldn’t see it coming.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

440 notes · View notes