#king!bucky barnes x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckyalpine · 1 year

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Yours to Claim

King!Bucky x reader

Warnings: angsty, SMUTT, flufff, Arranged marriage, virginity loss, marriage consummation, bit of bleeding, King Bucky is a sexy, loving, protective warning.

You stood in your new chambers, fidgeting with the lace of your dress, eyes flickering to the various pieces of art work that decorated the walls; moments earlier you had signed your life away to a man you had never met before in exchange for an alliance over war.

A promise of peace if the two kingdoms united; an easy fix at no one’s expense.

Except yours.

You flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut, the king, and now your husband, silencing the hushed whispers on the other side before making his way over to you. Even if his advisors and servants were now quiet, you knew at least one would be lingering around the door way, listening.

Waiting.

You still hadn’t seen him properly, having kept your gaze down to mask the tears that had threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. To your surprise, he didn’t drag you to bed like you expected; instead he strode past and removed some of the many layers he wore for the ceremony before standing in front of you again.

“I hope everything's been to your liking princess-” You were caught off guard with his question, your eyes flicking up, surprised to find soft blue ones looking down at you. “-and that you’ll be happy here”

He cared about your happiness?

You nearly scoffed at the thought but his voice was sincere, not a hint of malice found. You hadn’t noticed before but he had a handsome face; a beautifully carved jaw under his his dark beard, delicately sharp nose, soft pink lips and if you looked for a moment to long, you’d get lost in his eyes.

Shaking the thought away you focused back to the matter at hand. It had to happen one way or another. You agreed to this for your kingdom, there was no point in having second thoughts now.

“They’ll be expecting us to...” Your voice trailed off, glancing off to the side at the large bed that was set in the middle of the spacious room, soft silken sheets and thick lush pillows neatly arranged by the castle maids. You knew how this worked. Love and affection didn’t matter, your marriage wouldn’t be considered legitimate until...

And if you didn’t-

One day you were living your life, preparing for the day you’d have the throne and now you were here.

To be seen in a way no one else ever had.

Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.

You were now his property.

You tried to push the anxiety that started to claw at your mind, making your way over to the bed and sitting up right as you were taught, waiting for the man you were now tied to, to consummate the marriage. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip down beside you from where the king sat, surprised to feel his warm hand gently lay on top of yours, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“Princess we don’t have t-

“I want to” you tried to sound confident but your voice wavered, your breath hitching again when he tilted your chin to look at him, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze.

“This is my kingdom” he said with a firmness that was not directed at you but rather towards the distain he had for the rules that had put you in such a position in the first place, “I’d never force you to do anything, princess” The slight growl in his voice made your heart skip a beat; yet again, there was only sincerity in his words.

However, it was far more complicated for you.

You didn’t want to fail the very duties that had been instilled in you from the day you were born, not wanting the sacrifice you made for your family to go to in vain if anyone dared question the fulfilment of your wedding night.

“I want this” You looked directly at him with confidence but your eyes gave away your vulnerability.

“Then I’ll make it good for you, pretty one” He murmured, the pulse in your veins quickening when his hands came to cup your cheek as he moved you to lay down on his bed. He carefully tugged at the ribbons of your corset, freeing you from the constricting garment and tossing it aside before slipping off the rest of your dress. You felt exposed, lying bare against the cool sheets while he undressed himself; you couldn’t help but glance over at his toned body as he discarded his own clothes, corded muscles running under tan skin, scars from battle decorating his body

The worst was the scarring along his left shoulder, angry jagged lines running from his neck to his shoulder blade, some of the scars extending to his chest and arm. There were divots in his skin from where the cuts ran deeper than others.

It made him beautiful.

You looked away as his pants fell around his ankles leaving him in his all naked glory, feeling hot under his gaze. You instinctively squeezed tightly together, arms draped across your naked chest to cover your modesty. Your eyes were trained on the tapestry that was hung across the room, biting your lip when you felt him crawl onto the bed, kneeling before you, his knees on either side of your legs, bare skin touching yours.

“You’re allowed to look, princess” The king smirked at your flustered state, “I belong to you just as much”

You swallowed thickly, flicking your eyes back to him, involuntarily gripping the sheets finally seeing all of him from his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his frame broad and solid. A shiver ran down your spin as you continued to trail your eyes further down to his thick length, veins running along the shaft, curved towards him.

You were confused as he moved to lay down beside you, having expected him to lie on top instead but he didn’t; instead he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving your arm to uncover your breasts. You held your breath as he laid them aside, your nipples peaking against the cool air, still waiting for him to shove your legs apart and take what he wanted.

“You’re sure, princess?” He whispered, his face by yours, letting his warm hand rest on your tensed stomach, humming when you hesitantly nodded.

You bit a gasp as his fingers trailed down your body, coaxing your thighs apart, softly caressing the sensitive flesh as you tried to squeeze your legs together. He let out a soft chuckle, moving your thighs apart again, your eyes growing wide when his fingers dipped into your folds, smearing the slick that started to pool between your legs.

“I- you shouldn’t-” You didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind reeling when he moved his fingers close to where you were more sensitive, making it harder for you to control the noises that wanted to slip through.

“I should know every part of my wife” He trailed his fingers back up, watching you intently, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when he brushed over your swollen bundle of nerves, a gasp escaping you when he pressed his fingers tips against it, “Her most sacred places”

Your breaths quickened, your walls quivering with need, a feeling you had never experienced before, already melting into the pleasure he was giving you.

“I made a promise to take care of you” he started to rub soft circles around your clit, humming and the moan you tried to bite back, your lip caught between your teeth. He pulled his hand away from your soaked cunt, his thumb still glistening with your arousal tugging down on your lip making you gasp.

“You don’t ever have to silence yourself with me princess” His voice dropped an octave, jaw clenched, the meaning behind his words deeper than wanting to hear how pretty you sounded as he pleasured you. He caressed down your body till he found your clit again, rubbing you with such care, building a steady rhythm that had all your nerves lit on fire. A coiling pleasure wound tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingertips.

“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched” His hands had seen war, violence and bloodshed, scars and callouses evidence of his bravery and fierce loyalty to his kingdom.

And now to you.

“Such softness deserves to be loved” he whispered, dipping his head down to your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, gently suckling while continuing to rub slow deliberate circles around your clit. “And worshipped”

Your body moved on its own, your thighs spreading apart, giving him more access to you, your back arching off the bead, needy moans and whimpers filling the room as he switched to your other breast.

“Ooh-it feels-mmphh-” You couldn’t formulate words, hands blindly gripping at the sheets, squirming as he rubbed faster, a fiery pleasure starting to crawl down your spine. You could feel his hard length press against your thigh, your fingers twitching to wrap around him and soothe the ache of his swollen cockhead, his pink tip wet and leaking. He noticed your gaze flick down before looking away, loving your sweet innocence.

“You’re allowed to touch me, princess” He murmured against your cheek, taking your hand, trailing it between your bodies, moving it to wrap around his thick length. He moved your hand along his velvety shaft, his cock hard and throbbing against in your soft palm, “Every part of me is yours now too”

You let out a whimper, hesitantly dragging your hand up and down, learning to build a rhythm he seemed to respond to, listening to the low grunts and groans he made when you twirled your hand around the tip before stroking all the way back down to the base.

“Is-is this okay” Had he not been right beside you, he would have missed the whisper of your voice, a smile gracing is lips as you awaited his answer.

“Of course, princess” James rubbed tighter circles around you, determined to get you make you shatter in pleasure before taking you apart all for himself, wanting every intimate moment you spent with him pure bliss for you. You signed your life to him; he was going to cherish that in every way possible.

“oh-please-p-please!” Your eyes rolled back, your clit swelling as warmth began to spread throughout your body, the coil ready to snap, just a bit more- “Please-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, your body chasing the building pressure that was holding you right over the edge. You found yourself tugging and stroking him faster, coaxing him to move closer, guiding him to where you needed him most, your cunt clenching, making a mess all over the sheets. His hips rutted in your hand as he slotted himself between your legs, keeping his body weight off you, propped on one arm as he lay above you.

“Please?” Your eyes were glassy, skin hot, a concoction of nervousness, excitement, lust and desire coursing through you as you moved your hands to grip onto his thick shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” His hand softly petted your hair, eyes swimming with concern, the blunt tip of his cock throbbing against your leaking cunt.

“Take me” you whispered, feeling your heart rate quicken when he reached down between your bodies to line himself up, pressing against your entrance. You whimpered, letting your nails dig into his skin at the burn, feeling his the tip of his cock push into you, stretching your tight cunt apart.

“Shhhhh” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pushed in further, trailing kisses down your nose to your lips, your grip nearly breaking the skin on his back. “I won’t hurt you princess”

You could feel his back muscles tense, focused on filling you slowly, finally joining together in a way that made you husband and wife.

“J-James” You didn’t even consider that you’d called him by his named instead of title, too lost in the feeling of him claiming you, hot pain and pleasure radiating through your body at the foreign sensation.

“I know, I know” he nodded against your neck, his cock splitting you open further, wider at the base. “Breathe, breathe, I have you” He could feel your pussy flutter and squeeze his length, trying to accommodate for his girth. He pulled away from your neck to brush the hairs that clung to your forehead, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between your brows.

“Look at me princess” he whispered against your lips as your cracked your eyes open, the sting slowly melting when you got lost under his blue gaze. He kissed your temple, lips pressed against your skin, your own nails clawing into his back as he fully sheathed himself inside you.

“May I?” He asked, giving you time to adjust to the feeling, only beginning to slowly rock his hips when you nodded, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing his tapered waist.

“Feels-good” You let out a breathy moan, your legs trembling as he barely pulled out, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, pushing you into the mattress. You clung around his body as he let his weight drop on you, keeping you covered under him while moving faster, his hand coming to lace with yours.

“So good to me” He rasped, squeezing your hands in his, moaning when he felt your pussy pull him right back in every time he pulled away. It was like you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body molded perfectly with his, your tight wet heat swallowing him entirely, taking every inch he was willing to give you. “You’re mine now”

“No one’s ever going to hurt you princess” His eyes hardened making your cheeks heat up under his protective gaze, dark hair falling around you in a curtain of intimacy. Your family may have married you off to bring peace to the land but he was not going to use that to his advantage to use you. He would take care of you and treat you like the queen you were, protecting his newest most prized treasure. You mewled against his lips, a stray tear slipping past your eyes, his lips kissing them away, a stark contrast to the way his cock was hitting deeper in your cunt, kissing your cervix as he fucked into you.

“I promise” he kissed your wrist, before pinning it against the mattress beside your head, thrusting faster, your moans loud enough to let the next kingdom over know you were at your husbands complete mercy in the most intimate and primal way possible.

“James-James-please-I” Your chest was pressed against his, eyes pleading for your release. He groaned, angling his hips to rub sensitive spot deep inside you making you see stars, spots starting to cloud your vision, the band ready to snap again. He panted, working his hips faster, rolling them, coaxing you further and further to the edge. He could feel his own orgasm ready to burst, gritting his teeth, determined to take care of yourself before giving into his own.

“Let go my princess, let go for me, I have you”

“JAMESS”

He held you tightly as you fell apart on his cock, moaning at the sting of your nails dragging down his body. Your cunt milked and squeezed him, desperate for him to give you everything drop he had. He wrapped his arms around your body, tucking his face against your neck, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, unable to hold back when he felt your hands card through his hair, softly grazing his scalp before giving it a gentle tug.

“Let-let go for me” You whispered softly in his ear, wanting him to know you accepted him just as much as he accepted you, needing him to understand you saw him as your husband, not just your king. “My James”

“My princess” He groaned against your skin, pushing himself as deep as your body would allow, hot spurts of his seed filling you till it dripped onto the sheets. He continued to softly rut into you, riding through both your highs until he was spent, his cock beginning to soften inside you.

“I have you, I have you angel” He whispered, rubbing up and down your back, his nose buried in your hair, kissing down the column of your neck to your shoulders. “Do you feel alright”

You whimpered at the loss of him as he pulled out, a dull soreness beginning to settle between your legs. Your eyes grew wide at the dots of red that stained the sheets, pouting when you felt a loss of warmth as your husband sat up.

“Lie down angel” He cooed, moving you to lay on his side of the bed and tucking you under the plush sheet before swinging his long legs to the edge of the bed. You reached out for him, your fingers softly grasping at his wrist, wanting to feel him hold you when you felt so vulnerable.

“But-”

“I’m going to take care of your princess. I told you, you’re mine now. Mine to care for” He made his way over to the water that was set aside in the room, dipping a clean cloth to dampen it before making his way back over to you. He carefully wiped you down, between sweet words of how he’d forever put you first, a vow he made when he agreed to marry you. He wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks before getting up again to toss away the cloth.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his skin now decorated with new marks left by you, a proud smirk gracing his lips, happy to add a scar, this battle being his favorite one of all.

The one to your heart.

One he’d have to earn with patience and love, this night being the first of many.

“The sheets-” You blinked up at him as he slipped between the covers, pulling you to his chest, cocooning you in his warmth.

“Will be for my eyes only” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, deciding he’d only allow your ladies in waiting to ever enter the chambers, ones that were loyal to you and that you trusted. “You’ll be safe with me”

You relaxed in his hold, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart, the anxieties that clawed at your chest disappearing into the night, your heart melting for the man you now were honored to call yours.

The king.

Your James.

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georgiapeach30513 · 4 months

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Trying To Save Me, Part 1

Summary: Fate. A word you were forbidden to ever speak. It wasn’t real and it didn’t exist. A word that was always whispered around you, but never to you. You didn’t know why you were fated for something. Just that the day you were born the great winter came and you’ve been on the run with your family since, but now they were gone. Traveling to what you thought was further and further away from the dark king’s palace. Instead, you had begun to get closer. Following a white wolf instead of your learned route. No wonder you wound up captive and given to the king as a gift. As was fated…

Pairings: dark king!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: language, violence, death, curse, attempted SA, kidnapping, humiliation, objectification, non/con fingering, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.8K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

A woman’s shriek echos up into the mountains while a young boy looks up at the sky. His freakishly green eyes look all along the night sky. His hand taps on the arm of the other man beside him as he points up at the sky. “You need to tell Malik,” he answers, keeping his eyes in the sky.

A twig in the distance breaks, and both men look towards the tent as a long drawn out scream comes from inside, “Go, now,” he answers annoyedly as he watches the first snowflake drift from the sky. “Our fates are sealed, I fear.”

The younger boy runs inside, eyes going large and round as a woman reaches down, and cradles a just born baby to her chest. Tears and sweat pour down her face as she clings to the child, rocking back and forth.

“Sire.”

“Silence,” a gigantic man says, stepping closer to the woman, “My queen. Let me see the baby,” she cries harder, shaking her head. “Let me see the child!”

“She’s just a baby,” she cries, looking up at him. “She doesn’t have to know. Nobody has to know. She’s just a baby!”

“Sire,” the guard says again, and the large man turns abruptly, eyes aflame as he approaches slowly. “My king, the snow is falling,” the queen in the background wails. Her hands slap at everyone who tries to take the baby from her arms. “He will come for her.”

“Clean them up. Cicely, stop your screaming. Everything you know, will be no more. If you want to keep the child. If not, we can end it now. It is fated…”

“Malik, she’s a baby! My baby! No, it doesn’t exist. Take the crown on top of my head. I don’t need this life,” with a sigh, Malik slings his head to the side and everyone in the tent scrambles. “What are you doing?”

“This will be a winter like you’ve never seen before. They’re loading the necessary items,” picking his crown off his head, he throws it to the ground. “She’ll never know. Yours, too,” the queen kisses her daughter’s head before letting her own crown fall to the ground. Life would forever be different.

You reach your hand into the snow, digging around a moment before you pull up a small root. Wiping it clean before gnawing your teeth into the fibrous twig. Glancing out through the thin trees. You haven’t known anything but winter. And typically you were alone. Had been for a few years, until him. The white wolf. He always lingers around when you scavenge for what little food you could find.

“It’s not meat, you beast,” the wolf’s eyes never leave you as it sits down into the snow. “I can see that you’re looking at me like you want to devour me, but you also know I’m too skinny for eating, huh?” Chuckling, you tear another piece off the root. “Did you eat a rabbit out of my trap? I’d like to get some real food in my belly. I have to start traveling again.”

The perks of living in a village was you weren’t completely alone. There is a comfort of having a wall, and humans, even if you didn’t talk to them. “I can’t go back into the walls without something. They do community soup. You have ruined my supper a few times. This shit is horrid,” you groan. A part of you wants to throw it at the beast that wouldn’t leave you be, but you need the sustenance.

“If someone saw you, they’d kill you. Your pelt and meat would be useful,” the wolf yawns, laying himself down fully in the snow. “You’re not even scared of me, huh? I wish you could talk, so you could tell me where we were. I miss my family. Ugh,” you groan, standing up and the wolf remains laying there. “Should you ever attack me, I will kill you.”

The wolf looks you completely in the eyes, his silvery blue ones a stark contrast to your overly green ones. Looking upon each other for too long before you throw the small remnants of the root towards him. “Do not pursue me, white wolf.”

Turning your back on a wolf could be stupid, but at this point you welcomed anything that would break up the monotony. Anything that would give you excitement outside of this routine life. You’d stop at the few traps you’d laid for the small game, and hopefully carry something back. The hunger in your belly grows stronger everyday, and if you want to leave this forsaken village, you need food. Real food.

‘Don’t stay in one place too long. Don’t give people your real name. Don’t look them in the eye. Don’t speak too much,’ all your parents taught you was running away and fear. You aren’t even sure why you had to constantly move, and constantly hide your identity to the point you aren’t even sure who you are. It was all made up lies after all.

Who were you? That is a funny question because you aren’t sure. There have been glimpses of who others thought you were. There have even been whispers that you try to ignore unsuccessfully. Mentioning a word that you were forbidden to say out loud. Who were you that made people fear you, and your family fear for you?

Leaning over a trap, you thankfully pull up a rabbit. That stupid wolf didn’t eat everything. Minding your business outside of the walls of the village is your safe space. People inside the walls, particularly the ones your age are cruel. Their curious but angry eyes always on you. Watching. Planning some form of your demise.

“If it isn’t the little sapling caught all alone again,” standing up straight, you look behind you at one of the village boys, but choose to just walk to the next trap. Don’t engage. Don’t give them a reason to hate. “What’s the matter, princess? You scared of a little fun?”

You didn’t want the fun he was willing to dish out. You wanted to eat, and leave this place. Talk to as few people as possible. They were the ones dragging you into their drama, “Yeah,” you stop your movement. Turning in the other direction when two boys start stalking you. “We just want to play a little bit.”

“Maybe fill your belly, so you have to stay. That’s what you’re getting ready to do, huh?” Three boys. You’re fucked. Instead of collecting from your traps, you walk towards the wall. You try to find something. A large stick, anything to use as a weapon. Of course there would be too many.

“She thinks she’s too good for us,” four. Where the hell were they coming from? Head down. Walk faster.

Another steps from behind a tree directly in front of you, and you nearly forget to breathe, “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’m tired of the girls here. I like fresh meat. I’ve heard your untouched,” fuck. Your bright green eyes look around at all five of them gathering around you. What amazing men they are.

Grabbing onto the knife at your hip, one of these jackasses grabs your arm, “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” another hand, another weapon.

“Girly, we just want to have some fun.”

“Fun for who?” Your voice isn’t as strong as you hoped. It is borderline screeching.

“Keep screaming. We like it,” god, they are just a pleasant bunch. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. First is pain, and then a blinding light as you drop to the ground. “Go on, give us a scream.”

“Are you too stupid to say anything?” You clench your eyes closed as you try to ignore the pain in the back of your head. Snow squishes up into your ear, and you drift off to anywhere but here. Hands grabbing the furs on your body, and you hate you’re always alone. There is never anyone to protect you, so you have to take everything.

“She sure is pretty face down like this,” one of their hands hooks under your pants. “We won’t tell anyone if you won’t. What the fuck? Ahh,” snarls. “Help me!” Your assailant screams while all his friends run away. Pulling the furs close to your body, you scurry around, sitting on your ass, and start to scoot away.

Those silvery blue eyes stare deep into your soul as his teeth dig into the boy’s shoulder deeper. “Get your knife! Do something!”

“You were about to rape me. All of you,” you would have to be a fool to not know what those boys were attempting to do to you. And this one had the gall to demand that you do something to save him. Who was going to save you from them?

“We were teasing, you little bitch!” The white wolf’s muzzle raises as he watches you. Too still for an animal in the forest. “Stab it!” His screams are hideous, but you don’t feel sorry for him. That disgusting excuse for a man would had laughed at every scream you made.

You give a single nod to the wolf, and he bites down so hard on his shoulder, you hear the sickening crack of his bones. His voice shoots into the twilight as the wolf drags him away. It felt like he was waiting on you to tell him it is okay to kill him. At least the beast would have some meat tonight as would you. You could finally get a full belly, and could leave this terrible place. As soon as the first ray of sun came through your tent, you’d be gone.

Grabbing up your rabbits, you try not to vomit at the horrid screams, and crunching bones that are not far enough away. Your stomach rolls, realizing the wolf was trying to keep the young man alive as long as possible. Wanting him to feel every bit of the pain he was ready to inflict on you. “Thank you, and you’re welcome for dinner, white wolf.”

No. You squint as you look up into the sky, and then back at the beast. That isn’t the right way. “You’re going to get me killed,” the wolf continues to look at you, turning his back he walks a few steps before looking back at you. “I’m not following you.”

He takes a slow calculated step towards you, snarling as he takes another. “Fine! But you follow me,” another step. “Don’t lead me closer to the center of the realm,” you don’t even know why that is a thing. Why did you have to stay on the outskirts? A wildling, living in an eternal winter. You are no longer a child, and surely people still didn’t believe the prophecy.

“Do you know what spring looks like?” You’re talking to a wolf. Walking where you shouldn’t be, and you have lost your mind. Wandering around because you no longer even understood why you had to do this. Humans weren’t meant to live alone, you couldn’t see the purpose of needing to lay low. It’s silly to assume that you couldn’t live the life that some did in the villages. Getting married, having a family, being as normal as winter would allow.

You didn’t want to bring a child into this world. A world where food is just as scarce as the warmth. And the king’s cruel reputation for using women as currency. Sounded like a grand world. What if you had a daughter, and she was one that was kidnapped by the king. Sold into whatever life he made them live.

Maybe those were enough reasons for you to not go close to the kingdom. “Do you think the king’s guards ever go outside the kingdom walls?” Your furry friend puffs as he continues his trek. “I suppose they’d have to. I wonder how the kingdom works. Why wouldn’t people just refuse to have children? And what is he doing with these women? Eating them? Does the blood of virgins keep him alive forever? Is the king really not that cruel, but the stories are because he hoards food? Maybe even something nice to eat. Not just to sustain oneself. Ahh!”

You flinch, having to step back as he starts to walk towards you again, “Okay, I won’t talk about the king. Truce. I am just talking, and didn’t realize you understood me,” nodding his head, he turns back around. Weird creature. Even though the wolf couldn’t respond, you feel the need to talk. Like you have an audience for the first time.

Why the hell did this wolf understand you? How did it possibly know what you are talking about? And did he like or not like the king? Maybe they were sworn enemies and talking about the king pissed him off. Or maybe they were in fact friends. “How was your dinner last night? I’m sure the meat was rotten, but I suppose it was better than a squirrel. Thank you by the way. Don’t think you and I have to be friends, but I think they would have left me for dead.”

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that’s what they were going to do. Fucking men. They were all little boys who wanted to destroy things deep inside of them. “Monsters. The word men shouldn’t even be used. They’re monsters. Like you, white wolf, I know you are a beast and can kill me, and eat me it seems, and I still follow you. Do you have any idea where we are going?”

You are glad that no one is around to hear you gab on with a damn wolf. One that would surely have you for lunch. “That’s probably what you’re doing, huh? Leading me to your den where you can all feast on me.”

The giant dog stops abruptly. Throwing his head up to the sky he bellows out a howl, and you cover your ears as his noise vibrates through your body. This didn’t sound like a normal wolf. Or maybe you’ve never been so close to one. Screaming out in pain as you move away from him. “You fucking asshole!”

You need to get away. The beast seriously did bring you to your demise. Sending out a distress call to his fellow demons to come chow down on your body. “Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, trying to run far away from the creature that is going to see that you’re ripped apart limb by limb.

“Where did she go?” Fuck! More men. Monsters. All of them. The only ones worth anything were the ones laying cold and dead in the snow. “Go in all directions. It’s time,” you’re going to die, actually die this time. Die out here in this frozen wasteland because if you run, they’ll chase.

“This will be easier than I thought,” an evil leer as the man spots your footprints. Damn this winter! There should be a downpour of snow right now. Instead you’re a sitting duck with a trial of prints right to you. Taking off your pack, you pull out your daddy’s necklace, and kiss it. If they wanted you, they’d have to catch you.

One slow, solid breath, and you launch out of your hiding spot, and spring towards anywhere. “Got her,” shit! Everywhere you run there are men. But not just any men. The ones you had tried to avoid for a lifetime.

“By order of the king, I command you to stop!” They could cut your head off. If you were going to die, you’d die trying. And you weren’t going to stop. What choice did you have but to do everything in your power to not be taken captive.

“Oomph,” you start choking as a large man wraps his arms around you tightly. “She’s a fighter. The king will love that. Someone that can deal with his overgrown bratty self.”

“Get your hands off me!”

“Cuff her,” the blond man says, nodding his head towards another. “Hold still!”

“I don’t want to be your toy!” You hate men. They’re disgusting. The most vile of humans.

“You won’t. Not ours anyways,” he chuckles as the chains are put around your wrists, and even your neck. “Careful now,” he says obnoxiously as metal is extended towards your face. “It shouldn’t hurt but just a little. With this on, no one but the king will touch you.”

You didn’t want anyone touching you. Not this guard. Not the king. Closing your eyes, you grit your teeth as the mask is pressed against your face. A quick sting from the metal that is too cold to be on your skin. But then something pricks the back of your neck, and your scream lights up the forest, and then darkness. Nothing but eternal despair.

You were warned. And you failed. The one place you were to avoid, you ran right to it. Stupid girl.

Living in a world of ice and all alone, you get used to things not going your way. You’re a bit too vulnerable in a society that looks down at you because you’re a woman. A marked one at that. But a woman whose only one purpose you possess is for men’s pleasure and carrying babies. Other than the last remaining people of your tribe, you never met a man that was worth anything. And now you were in the belly of the beast.

The worst man of all. Some people claim that his influence sludged out to the realm, and it’s what turned all men sour. The fairy tale that once upon a time men were chivalrous, and they changed along with the weather.

Once your mind came to it didn’t take long to figure out exactly where you were, and in whose dungeon you are in. His. The man you were told to stay as far away from. He was the bogeyman in the stories you were told growing up. Foul, hideous, loathsome, and the worst kind of human, and now you’re trapped with a damn metal mask on your face.

Feeling completely alone except for the stupid mutt laying beside you with his head on your lap, “You are filth. Don’t try and butter me up because you got me caught,” his head pops up, his crystal blue eyes staring deep into yours, and you turn away. “I’m going to die here.”

It’s something you have never doubted. Getting caught equals death. Being here, alone, with a damn wolf, with a mask cannot be a good thing. The king will most likely stall, making sure you have no fight left before he pulls you apart one inch of your skin by one inch. Your mind races with ways the dark king can destroy you.

It’s cold. Colder in here than even outside. At least outside there is a dryness to it. In here the walls drip with what you hope is water and not something more sinister. What could you possibly have looked forward to in this life? An eternal winter? Constantly fighting for men not to touch you? Becoming a wife that had no desire to birth children in this world? Maybe this is better off.

“Where are you going?” You whisper as the four legged menace runs away. “Coward,” even he knows it’s desolate here.

Clanging sounds from behind the door, and you roll your eyes up to meet the blonde guard that captured you in the woods. “About time you woke up. Come on,” his mouth sets into a leering smile as he pulls you up from the floor. Using the key at his side to undo your chains. “He’s been waiting on you.”

“Dare I ask who?”

“You know exactly who. Your fate,” swallowing bile, he pulls you into his body. No amount of making yourself heavier works as he practically drags you out of the dungeon. That word is a curse. You’re more scared now than you were getting caught. “I saw your necklace, girlie,” his laugh grates on your nerves as painful as the arm that is wrapped around your waist.

“We’ve been waiting on you.”

“To torture me,” he chuckles right into the shell of your ear, and you want to retch. “What is this on my face?” His talking stops abruptly. Continuing to tug, and pull on your body, “You’re hurting me.”

“Get used to it,” torture it is. Did you think anything less? The most vile of humans that you were supposed to stay away from, and he captured you. Of course you were going to be tortured. Now you have to suffer the consequences. He shoves you into a room so hard that you fall down to your knees, and you yelp. Turning around to look at him. “Face forward and have fun.”

You hear another man clear his throat, and you try to disappear. Looking down at the floor with your eyes closed as you listen to his light footsteps. Walking around you before his meaty hands go under your arms, hauling you up to stand. Your breathing is nonexistent, but his breath is heavy. Fragrant of a scent you can’t place. And he inhales deeply.

Leaning into your ear, “You smell like a fucking dog,” he should talk. You weren’t the only one that reeked of something, and he is a king. You’ve been in a dungeon. “I’ll enjoy watching you be bathed.”

Fuck. Torture seems to be subjective. “Has any man touched you?” What did it fucking matter? Like he was going to ask for permission? He had you tied up with something on your damn face, impairing your vision, and he cared about how many men have put their grimy hands on you? “If you want to be able to sit on your ass, I suggest you open your goddamn mouth. Has a man ever touched you,” he swats at your backside hard as he comes to stand in front of you.

“Men always touch what they think they can own.”

He clicks his tongue, smiling gleefully at you, “None of those men had the power to own you.”

“And you do?” His hand goes underneath the mask, grabbing your neck with his fingers on your chin as he turns you to look at a mirror. You stare horrified as a wolf shaped mask covers your face. Your hair is oily and matted, and your bones protrude out of your body. But the mask is evil looking on your face. Otherworldly, and it didn’t belong there, “You don’t own me.”

“Is that so?” This man is far faster than any other man as he pulls and yanks at the rags that dress your body. Pulling off everything in shreds until you’re bare before him, and he throws you over his shoulder. Marching out of the room you are in before he throws you into a body of water.

You sputter, struggling to keep your head above the water before standing up. Shivering and naked. Wishing you could throw daggers at every part of his skin. Looking around to see an audience of people staring at your shame, and you dip back into the water for coverage with your arms hugged against your chest. You want to yell and curse at him, but you’re outnumbered. “Clean her. Then we’ll all enjoy inspecting you.”

“What does that mean?” Panic rises in your voice as men and women come into the pool with you. Men grab at your arms while women scrub on your body with a brush. The king sits down in a chair, and a creepy smile spreads over his face. “What does it mean? Ow!”

If he wasn’t so vile you might find him handsome. Cheekbones carved so sharply, and dark hair slicked back. He rolls his fingers over the armrest, and you start counting every ring that is laid upon his fingers.

“You’re so weak,” he chuckles, staring too intently as the women cup and scrub your breasts. His eyes drift to your necklace as he leans back, “Do you even know who you are? Or why you have always been mine? Every inch of you belongs to me. Those eyes and your necklace prove it. Your mom was nothing but a lying whore, and your dad was a fool anyways.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t? I don’t know that your so called father sat on a stolen throne? And your lying mother laid down with the rightful king. Your sweet innocent father thought your eyes belonged to him. You telling me he didn’t know your mom was fucking his guard,” your eyes go large as you stare at him. They were eerily similar to Jarrod’s.

“She tried to fight this curse and our connection, and instead, let a cock drive your bastard self right to me. What do you know of the day you were born?” Nothing. But you wouldn’t tell him that. “I’m sure they didn’t tell you much. The first snowflake fell that day. Everyday that you’ve been kept apart from me was another day of winter. The day you were born every drop of blood in your body and every inch of your delectable skin belonged to me. The night you were conceived is the same night your cunty father murdered mine. His guard was pumping his wife full, and here you are.”

God the way he talked about your family is despicable. Because you really wanted to know about your mother’s affairs. “Your mom was so scared to give birth to the king’s daughter, she gave her cunt to the next best thing. Jarrod was always the king. You can’t fate. Just like you can’t escape my wrath. Remove the mask.”

A woman slowly takes the metal off your face, and you glare at him. Wishing your look alone could set his entire body on fire. His head twists to the side curiously as he looks at you. An odd softness before he looks at the swell of your breast, and the snarky smile appears again.

“Bring her to me. On her knees, so I can look upon what’s mine. Don’t fight it either. I’ll fuck you like an animal right in front of all these people if you fight,” your chest heaves as all these hands carry you in front of him. Turning you away before lowering you to the floor. Someone pushes down your head as you stay on all fours before the king.

“This is how I like to see you. Submissive, spread and so puffy for me,” his fingers run through your core, and you hear a rumble in his stomach, “you can try deny me, but your body backing up to my fingers? Your body craves me. It’s like a magnet you can’t escape, and if you keep acting like a needy bitch in heat, I’ll give you exactly what your body has been denied.”

That’s a lie. You’ve never wanted any man to touch you. Never desired anything from them, but even you can’t deny the moan that escapes your mouth as one of his fingers breaches your walls. Loud and salacious as you glance back at him. “Since you love how it feels when we’re connected, just wait until I fuck you.”

You keep your head low, knowing that everyone in this room can see you down on your knees like an animal, while the king has a finger inserted so far into your cunt. He pulls the appendage out before shoving two more in. The audience starts to walk closer as the king stabs them into you, and you hope you don't react. That the only thing he can see if your fingers curling up, and you biting on your tongue.

Your cheeks heat up in flames with embarrassment, but also a sickening pleasure that you wish you didn't feel. The lewd squelching sound of your body causing the king to licks his lips with need. Fucking his fingers into faster before pulling out. Denying you release, and he slaps over your lips. "Juicy enough to eat."

“You’ll never get to fuck me.”

“I will, and you’ll beg for my seed every night. Don’t forget this moment. The moment you learned that your life is meant to serve mine. Put the mask back on her, and I want her placed in her gilded cage right in front of my bed. Maybe she’ll like me fucking into some whore’s cunt. Or would you like to watch me fuck my hand? I’ll even spurt my cum on your face. Make the servants wash you after you lick up every drop of my load. One of these days, you won’t be able to deny us. And maybe then we’ll get to see the world how it was intended.”

“And how’s that, your grace?”

“Not covered in fucking snow,” his voice is harsh as he walks out of the bathing room. Leaving you with all these people just staring at your naked body. Dressing you like you are a doll. You’d never beg for him. You didn’t want him. Or any man. It would never happen. And winter had nothing to do with him fucking you.

Because you belonged to no man.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @jesevans @alexakeyloveloki

#trying to save me #dark fic #dark!fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes smut #dark king!bucky barnes

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holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Before you (6)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Knight Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst, language, grumpy and loud Steve, Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), mentions of loss of loved ones, undefined age gap, a hint of fluff, true mates, a/b/o, scenting, Steve is a little possessive in this…

Before you masterlist

<< Part 5

“Steve! BROTHER! Open the door,” you flinch as it seems that Bucky wants to tear the door down with his bare hands. “If you hurt her, you’ll regret it. She’s your true mate.”

“Bucky, stop this immediately or you’ll end up in the dungeon. I swear if you threaten my claim, you are no longer my brother,” Steve warns.

There is a commotion behind the door, and then silence.

“He-he means well, my king,” whimpering in fear you look up at Steve. “Please don’t punish him. He pities me. Please.”

“You’ve got a soft spot for my brother,” he grits his teeth. “How far did he go? Did he touch you?”

“What? He wouldn’t…no. Your brother is a good man. All this time he tried to help me, my king. I swear on my father’s grave,” you sniffle. “Please…”

“A good man,” he huffs. “Unlike me?” The king questions. He waits for you to protest but you press your lips into a thin line. “I wasn’t always like this. Hard. Cold. Careless.”

“I don’t know you, my king,” you drop your gaze. “You’re a king. You have all the right to treat me like…this.”

“Look at me,” it’s an alpha command and your head immediately snaps upward. “I promised to keep you safe, and I will. No one will ever hurt you again or break your heart.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Steve swallows thickly as you start trembling. “Why’s that?”

“My family is gone,” you whimper. “And the only boy I ever loved forgot about me.” You give him a sad smile. “Promises are meant to be broken, my king. I don’t know if yours are meant to be kept.”

“My love,” your eyes round as he steps closer to cup your cheek with his right hand. “I never forgot about you. And I never wanted to break my promises. My father has forbidden me to come back to you. One day, he said you died in the fire with your family.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you press your hands weakly against his chest. “What is the meaning of your words, your highness.”

“Do you remember the horseshoe? I gave it to you,” he speaks as softly as he can. It’s hard to control his emotions after he got to know about Peggy’s betrayal.

“Horseshoe.”

Your heart wildly beats in your chest. This can’t be. No.

“You still have it.”

“A boy named Grant gave it to me, my king. I would remember being friends with a king.”

“A crown prince, my love,” he whispers lowly. Steve leans closer to sniff at your neck. “My name is Steven Grant Rogers. King of Brooklyn. My father wanted me to hide that I am the crown prince back then. So, I used my middle name.”

“No—no,” you cry. “My friend was a good person. He would’ve never treated people like you do. Grant was kind and so nice. He gave me my first kiss…my only kiss.”

“I never forgot about our kiss,” Steve tries to bring you into his arms but you fight him. A king can take whatever he wants, but you won’t give in without a fight. Your innocence is all you’ve got left.

“You’re not him,” he wins. You end up in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. You are forced to scent the king and feel his warmth. “You can’t be him. He would’ve saved me. Grant will come for me one day. I know it.”

“Y/N, I’m here. I would’ve come for you. I didn’t know you are still alive. I swear,” he sniffs as you wiggle in his grip. “Please, Y/N. I still go the flower you gave me.”

You stop wiggling and lift your head. “What kind of flower?”

He smiles now as you place your hands flat against his chest. “I’ll tell you if you stop fighting me.”

“I-“ you nod, but cautiously watch Steve. He lets go of you to walk toward his bed. He kneels to look under the bed and gets a small golden chest out. “What’s this?”

“My treasure,” he places the chest onto the bed and opens it. “Look,” Steve gets a small book out. He opens the book to show you a pressed flower, hidden in the middle of the book. “It’s a daisy.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. This can’t be. No. The king cannot be the boy you loved for so long.

“No. What happened to you? How can you be like this?”

“I lost everything when my father told me you died in that fire,” he carefully closes the book again. “Peggy became my queen, even though, I only ever wanted you to become mine.”

“She died,” you softly say. “I heard it from Bucky. He said something along the lines when I took care of her horse.”

“It’s not her horse,” he grits out. “She said it’s hers, but it wasn’t,” Steve says. “I asked my father to get it from your father before all of this happened. I wanted to gift it to you. She took it away from you. Peggy stole your place by my side with lies and her treacherous words.”

“It never was my place,” you step toward the door. “Even if you are Grant, you are not the man I had hoped you’ll become.” You sniff. “My king, you know that a maid cannot take a queen’s place. You and that woman were meant to be. Not us.”

“Please don’t say this,” he begs. His eyes fill with tears as you reach for the doorknob. “We were always meant to be, omega. No one can stop an alpha from claiming his true mate. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Not hours ago, you wanted me gone.”

He flinches as something hits the door from the other side. You shriek and fall to your knees to crawl away. “Y/N.”

Steve runs toward you. He goes down on his knees to wrap his body around your trembling form.

“STEVE!” the door finally bursts open, and a very angry Bucky, followed by Samuel storms into the room. “Where? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Steve mutters. “You just destroyed my door.”

“I thought…I mean,” Bucky huffs as you cling to his brother’s body. You hide your face in his chest, crying as you are scared to hell and back. “You didn’t hurt her.”

“Of course not,” Steve bites back. “I told you to read Peggy’s diary and leave us alone. I need to talk to Y/N and explain a few more things.”

“Did you already tell her?” the brunette lifts a brow as his brother sighs deeply. “I guess things didn’t go well?”

“She doesn’t believe me, Bucky. I got the flower and all,” the king whispers. “What else can I do to make her believe that I’m Grant, the boy who fell in love with her so many years ago?”

“Steve let’s be honest. You treated her like the worst since you met her for the first time,” Bucky tries to make his brother see that you won’t be able to forgive the king so easily. “I told you that she’s special.”

“I know,” Steve gently rocks you in his arms. “You must read the diary, Bucky. I need to talk about it with someone. Peggy betrayed me, brother.”

“I asked Lord Barton and Samuel to find out more about Rumlow, and the knights attacking Y/N’s family that night.”

“Good. I want him in the dungeon. He’ll pay for what he did,” Steve runs one hand up and down your back. “Can you leave me alone with Y/N for a little longer? Maybe find someone to take care of the door.”

“Steve, I think you should leave Y/N alone for a while. It’s a lot to take in,” you lift your head to look at the kind brunette. “She can sleep in one of the spare chambers next to yours.”

“No,” you whine as Steve wraps his arms tighter around your body. “She must stay here. We don’t know if one of Peggy’s allies will go after her. No one can take her away from me ever again.”

“Brother you need to calm down. You’re scaring her. It’s no good to let your alpha take over at the moment,” Bucky tries again. “I want you to tell me what this is all about. Rumlow. Peggy. The fire.”

“You need to read the diary, Bucky. We will talk after you read it,” Steve nuzzles his nose in your hair to inhale your scent deeply. “She’s still scared.”

“Of you.”

“No! She’s not scared of me,” the king talks back as you start to squirm in his hold again. “She cannot be scared of me. I finally found her again after believing I lost her five years ago.”

Bucky reluctantly leaves the room to find someone to take care of the door and read the diary. “Steve, be gentle. Y/N is a blooming flower, don’t pick her too soon.”

“I’ll wed her first,” Steve mutters under his breath. “She’s going to be a queen and I’ll treat her like one. I won’t steal her innocence without making her, my wife.”

Bucky clears his throat at Steve’s words. “That’s not what I meant, Steve. I wanted you to be careful and not yell at her again.”

“Oh Steven,” Bucky closes the diary. He wipes a single tear off his cheek. “How could she do this to you and Y/N? I knew she was a treacherous snake, but this is unforgivable.”

He sighs deeply. What else can he do? One moment his brother wants to chase you away, and the next he’s talking about marriage and making you his queen.

“I will make sure you’ll not hurt Y/N. If your heart’s not in this, I’ll bring her away from here…”

“I want to go,” you press the bundle with your belongings to your chest. “I don’t belong here, my king. Please let me go.”

“Y/N, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m Grant,” he carefully approaches you. “How can I convince you?”

“You can’t be him,” stubbornly shaking your head you step back as Steve gets closer. “How could you change so much?”

“I lost you and my father forced me to marry Peggy. She died during childbirth,” he shrugs. “Peggy was all I had left after my father passed away. I was suddenly a king, and she was my salvation. Or so I thought.”

You remain silent and look away.

“She died, and my son didn’t live longer than a few days. I felt like the world betrayed me and turned my back on my people, even my brother,” Steve sniffs. “Peggy’s death opened old wounds. Wounds that never healed.”

“You can’t be him,” you repeat.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m not the Grant you used to know,” he takes another step toward you. “But there is still the young man falling in love with you inside of me. Can you help me find him again?”

“I’m only a maid, my king,” you glance at Steve. Your heart aches at the sadness in his eyes. He’s barely a shell of the young man you used to know. “How could I help you?”

Before you (7)

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers #king!steve rogers #Before you (6)#king!steve x peasant!reader #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x maid!reader #a/b/o #medieval au #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Note

Hey idk if u take requests, but I hope ure ok w this. So…

Bucky laying between my thighs..in a cute way,like fluff

That’s it

Love u 💜💜bye

Assertion

Summary: Bucky makes a promise.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: Less than 500

A/N: Sorry this is so late! I'm terrible. This can go with the Possession, Validation, Sensation, Salutation Bucky one-shots that are kind of a series but not?

Warnings: Unlike the above fics, this is just fluff with a little bit of angst. TFATWS Bucky, love, reader is Bucky’s comfort person, pregnancy if you squint. Real Housewives of New Asgard.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

It was a dark and stormy night, and you were vegging out on the couch, trying to distract yourself from worrying about Bucky getting home in this weather.

Bucky was a skilled pilot, of course he could navigate a wet, possibly icy road. Anxiety was a little petty bitch, so you distracted her with junk food and loud trash tv.

You were so caught up in the drama unfolding on screen, complete with hysterics and screaming, that you didn’t notice Bucky slip in the front door.

He stood there watching you, the tension in his body subsiding as he dropped his bag on the floor. He toed off his shoes and stripped away his leather jacket. He was halfway to the couch when you turned and saw him.

“Jamie!”

Bucky felt his heart again as your face lit up as he approached. You moved to get up.

“Stay right there, Doll.”

He felt his face crack in what must have been a smile judging from the one on your face. He hadn’t done that since he’d left. God, you made him feel human again.

“Don’t move.”

You were about to pounce on him as he sat down, but you froze at his request.

“Are… are you okay, Babe?”

You knew the answer to that question. This mission must have been rough.

“I am now.”

Bucky pulled you to him, manipulating your legs around him and laying down on your chest. You put one arm around him and the other in his hair. You didn’t ask him anything else as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling a blanket over both of you.

“I’m not leaving you again, Doll. Missed you so damn much.”

You looked into his bright blue eyes.

“Love you too, Jamie.”

You didn’t respond to his declaration about not leaving again, just kissed his dark hair and threaded your fingers through it as Bucky rubbed your thighs and nestled into your bosom. He knew you didn’t believe him, but Bucky was serious, because he found his breath as he listened to your heartbeat, and a deep calm washed over him as he felt your belly for his other love. The movement in your womb and the lilt of your voice as you caught him up on the show gave him life.

“Housewives of New Asgard. This is part two of the finale. Gertrud accused Astrid of cheating on Arne with King Valkyrie…”

Bucky chuckled. “Val has lots of hoes…”

“Everybody knows that. And I’ve only met her twice, but I think she would have some standards…”

Bucky laughed and held you tight as you prattled on about nothing important. He rubbed your side with this thumb as he listened to you and fell asleep, his heart and mind safe with you.

#ask dj #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #Sebastian Stan #king valkyrie #new asgard #tfatws #thor love and thunder #marvel mcu

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martianbugsbunny · 11 months

Text

Sam accidentally confessing to Bucky bc whenever they're in the same room he unconsciously taps out the Morse code for "I love you"

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 1 year

Text

NEW WIP’S!

🩷 — for @fandoms-writings challenge — 🩷

i’m a whore for my silly little men and couldn’t choose between uhtred and joel so i’m doing both hsjdnzdj. ALSO these descriptions are shit but i promise (i think) the actual writing is much better 😭🥲 the general plot outlines are all on my notes app, now to just sit in front of my laptop and fully bring these pieces to life! there are 3, so i’ll put them below the cut

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

~ Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger Reader

Bucky Barnes was certain of many things in life. One of them now being that he didn’t deserve you.

(Prompt: "Break my heart one more time, I dare you.")

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

~ Uhtred Ragnarsson x Fem!Reader

You’ve hidden your feelings for Uhtred for many years. After a lot of thinking, you make the difficult decision to leave, not wanting to be around when you see him with yet another woman. You decide it would be better to leave whilst your feelings are still a secret. But secrets have a way of being forced into the light.

(Prompt: "Why do you act like everythings fine? Everythings not fine!")

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

~ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tension had been building for a while now. You and Joel were both taking bigger risks, seemingly not caring whether or not it put your life in danger. One day, an argument leads Joel to say something he immediately regrets. The next time he sees you, you’re hurt, and now he fears it may be too late to fix things.

(Prompt: "Why do you act like everythings fine? Everythings not fine!")

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

also thank you all for 300+ notes on my mob!bucky x fem!ballerina reader preview! i promise it is coming i just suck and was unexpectedly busy when i was meant to be free all weekend 🙃🙃🙃🙃

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list(s) for any of these pieces, let me know which ones!

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sebastianstansqueen · 2 years

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I have no clue what to write! Help me please!

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buckrecs · 2 years

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2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 2

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Chicken by @delusionalwriterr

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky Barnes shared a strange relationship with each other and the team was getting tired of it. When a mission goes wrong, will you be forced to admit your feelings for each other or will they remain buried?

2. sweet reverie by @demxters

College!Bucky x Reader

bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend but after what you thought was sweeter than a dream has you facing a harsher reality.

3. The Time of the Prey by @subwaysurf45 ✨

Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made.

4. super rich kids by @traitorjoelite

College!Bucky x Reader

kids with too much money, parties every night, and an incident with your best friend’s brother is just the norm on the upper east side.

5. Bring You Home by @sunflowersoldat ✨

Bucky x Reader

Y/N travels back in time to get Steve’s help for one last mission, but not everything goes as planned.

6. The Colour of Rain by @delaber

Bucky x Reader

On the run from his violent past, Bucky has sought refuge in a small town in Mexico where he enjoys the peace and quiet of not understanding a word of Spanish. A peace that is violently disturbed when he runs into the most annoying woman he has ever met.

7. All The King’s Men by @nastybuckybarnes ✨

Alpha!King!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

8. Peaches by @noctumbra

DBF!Bucky x Reader

what they were doing was wrong, both of them knew that. it had to be kept as a secret. not everyone would understand what they have, she knew that much. they’d look at them and see an older man misleading a girl so much younger than him. it wasn’t the thing, though. that had never been the thing. it wasn’t misleading, taking advantage ─whatever they called their situation. it was love. forbidden, not-society-friendly, but love.

9. Sweet Dreams by @abovethesmokestacks ✨

Bucky x Baker!Reader

Sometimes you start talking with someone, and you realize you share an interest and a wish for a certain supersoldier to be cut som slack. Enter cupcakes.

10. Fuck Up The Friendship by @summerofsnowflakes

Bucky x Reader College AU

Fed up with having your feelings played with you decide to have some fun with a with your friend Steve.

11. A Sweet Old Fashioned Notion by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Bucky x Reader

As the dust settles on the second 'snap' Bucky has been getting to know Brooklyn again. His neighbourhood has changed a lot, but it's changed for you too since you got blipped back. Bucky is still pretty old fashiond at heart, there were things he expected from life, to get married, to have a family. Simple things that seem far away now especially when online dating is so hard. Maybe something more traditional would be good for both of you.

12. Soldier, My Soldier by @cryptidcasanova

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

“I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the air. Without these things I am nothing. So now, I must shed blood.” He lulled at the base of your throat. “Sweetheart, come with me.”

13. Homesick at space camp by @atlaese

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

dying on a cold spaceship lightyears away from home wasn't what you expected

14. Spirits in the House by @redgillan

Detective!Bucky x Reader

Reader is in a coma after a car accident. Bucky moves into your apartment and find your spirit still hanging around.

15. Sugary Sweet by @all1e23

Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Is it all just sugar or something more?

16. Missing Piece by @likeahorribledream

Bucky x Reader

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

17. Metal Arm and Short Skirts by @buckyarchives

Bucky x Doctor!Reader

waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

18. Scars by @chickenfics ✨

Bucky x Reader Western AU

Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive...

19. The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Bucky x Agent!Reader Soulmate AU

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

20. Everybody’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) by @writing-for-marvel

Actor!Bucky x Assistant!Reader

The entire world’s eyes are on movie star Bucky Barnes, what he’s wearing, who he’s dating, even the mystery behind why he needs a prosthetic arm - but Bucky doesn’t care about all that, he’s only got one thing on his mind, you.

21. 27 Dresses by @beccaanne814

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

You are the epitome of “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” You think you know what love is, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

22. Heal by @chucksfavouriteprophet

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

For months you managed to distance yourself from Bucky Barnes, the alpha you long for. But one night you have no choice but to comfort him, something which brings out emotions in both of you. Except it also brings out emotions in the Winter Solider, which results in a devastating turn of events that neither of you might be able to come back from.

23. Dangerous Woman by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky x Reader

You know he blames you, but you never thought he’d hate you.

24. Witness Protection by @mymoonagedaydream

Bucky x Reader

You'd only been living in New York for a few weeks when Natasha introduced you to James Barnes, the man who’d change your life forever.

25. Everything’s Better in Westview by @espinosaurusrexex ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

26. Trying by @moonlight-prose

Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes was a new person. He survived a war with Thanos, finally getting rid of his triggers, and losing his best friend. He didn’t think there was anything else to survive. That is until he meets you in a bookstore and you become something he is scared of losing. An old villain has shown himself and suddenly you are the target of a new ploy to bring the Winter Soldier back.

27. unconventional methods by @marvelouslizzie

Bucky x Adult Content Creator!Reader

Bucky Barnes has a big problem: he is too anxious to date and too old school to enjoy porn. But he needs some kind of relief, and he needs it right now. After getting an accidental boner during a mission, Natasha suggests him an application that seems to be exactly what he needs. Will your content solve the problem for him? Or will it create new problems?

28. ephemeral by @aescapisms

Professor!Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.

29. Bulletproof by @amandaoftherosemire ✨

Bucky x Reader College AU

You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?

30. The Heart is a Deep Ocean by @dreamlessinparis

Bucky x Reader Titanic AU

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

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imtryingbuck · 19 days

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Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Word count: 843

Warnings: angst. fluff. death.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Go and fetch Princess Y/n, quickly!”

The young servant bows before her Queen before making a bee line out of the chambers and down the corridors, not even apologising to the other servants or knights she bumps in to along the way. She doesn’t want to disappoint her Queen so saying a simple ‘sorry’ will have to be saved until later.

The young girl knows exactly where to find the princess and pushes her legs to keep carrying her small frame, ignoring the burning pain she feels in her lungs.

Brown, golden leaves gently sway down to the ground as the wind starts to pick up, the chatter of the townsfolk ring out in the air as they move around through the market - each person paying no mind to the servant as she continues running towards the woods.

“Are you ready to admit your defeat?” A familiar soft yet harsh voice hits the girls ears.

“Never!”

“Ah, very well. I must kill you now” Just as the sword is raised in the air the servant calls for the princess. “Yes?”

“The Queen, she said it is urgent.”

“Tell her it will have to wait.” Princess Y/n brings down the sword, as she was about to hit her opponent’s shield the servant moves closer.

“Princess, it-it is the King.” She whispers.

Y/n freezes. Her sword hanging inches away from the shield. Carlson - her opponent, her friend - stood up, taking the sword away from his friend.

“Come Y/n/n.”

The townsfolk all separated as they see the Princess running towards them, all bowing to her not that she pays any attention to them. Running down the corridor to her parents chambers she’s greeted by her sisters, who doesn’t say anything to her, choosing to cling onto each other.

“Mother-“

“Your father wishes to speak to you. Go.” The Queen pushes her daughter into the bed chambers where her husband lays, her heart aches knowing that her husband won’t last long after he speaks to his daughter.

“Father.” Y/n bows before moving closer to him, she nods to her step mother as she moves away and leaves the room.

“You will be Queen. Do not let me down.”

“I-“

“I do not want to hear it. Take care of your mothers and sisters and do not let me down.”

And that was it. There was no words of encouragement or love, not like when Carl had passed and she was holding Carlson’s hand listening to his father tell him how proud he was of his only son - his last words on this earth were telling Carlson that he loved him. Her father didn’t do that. No his last words were him telling her not to let him down.

Y/n stood there just staring at his chest as it laid there flat. No tears came to her eyes like she expected. She bowed her head and turned to the door, looking at her mother, step mother and sisters and Carlson she nodded slowly.

“He is dead. The King is dead.”

As her mothers and sisters pushed by her, going into the room where he laid Y/n moved to sit on the couch that her sisters were sitting on. She looked at her only, true friend silently begging him to find a way to get her out of this. He smiled sadly knowing that this is not what she wanted, sitting down next to her he took her hand in his, both sitting in silence listening to the cries of her family grieving for their husband and father.

The townsfolk cried for days after the Royal Herald had announced the passing of the King, and whilst the family were in mourning Y/n’s mother was preparing the coronation for the new Queen.

A week after the King died his funeral was being held, Y/n went to stand behind her mother and step mother when her mother stopped her. “You walk in front.”

“Why?”

“You’re the Queen now darling.”

“No need to remind me.” Y/n grumbled under her breath.

Trying to keep her head held high as her mother had told her, Y/n’s heart ached the further they walked through the streets. The cries and chants from those around her made her want to take her chances and run, run as fast as she could and leave and never return, the last time she tried that she was caught as she was about to get on the boat and dragged to the castle where she was beaten for trying to escape. They wouldn’t do that now though would they? She was now Queen…

As she laid in bed that night, her heart and head heavy with the days events. She watched as the flame of the candle flicker in quick succession, blowing it out and turning on her side a defeated sigh fell from her lips, closing her eyes as a stray tear fell from her eyes, all she heard where the chants from the townsfolk - now her subjects.

“Long live the Queen!”

Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @sidraaaaaaaaa

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Soft King Bucky

Im in the middle of writing this smutty fic with arranged marriage and King Bucky and in the middle of writing it, i had another thot pop up which I have to get out right now like RIGHT NOW.

Imagine soft king Bucky on your wedding night. Its the first time you’ve ever been intimate with someone and your anxiety has been high all night because you know the maids and servants will inspect the sheets the next morning, your honor and dignity thrown to the wind.

But that's the way things were.

You gave yourself to him, letting him touch you and make love to you, sealing the both of you together as you had promised in your vows. He was careful and soft, cradling your body to his, focused on knowing you would be protected along his side, putting your pleasure before his.

You wanted to melt into him, feel every ounce of the love he was willing to give but anxiety held you from letting go, worried about the aftermath, worried about if he see you were pure.

The euphoria that consumed you both pulsed through you as you sat up, your stomach dropping at the stark white sheets. You scrambled up slightly in hopes of something but the sheets were anything but tainted, pure and clean as if you’d never laid on his bed.

“I’m-I’m sorry-” Tears well in your eyes, panic rising in your chest, fearing the anger he’d feel, seeing you as tainted and impure.

“What for darling” He whispered, concerned etched on his face as you let out a choked sob, not knowing what you could possibly go, there was no evidence to show you were pure, untouched before him, to show that he was the only man to have you this way. You squeezed your legs shut, curling up in a ball, shame consuming you, already hearing the words the kingdom would brand you. “My princess?”

“I didn’t-I don’t understand, the sheets- you’re the only one I’ve-” You trembled as he pulled you into his arms, shutting your eyes, unable to watch his disappointment when he saw who he married. Bucky’s brows furrowed, taking a moment to understand why you were so distressed, hiding your face away. He thought over your words, tension crawling up his back, his jaw clenching when he understood your fear. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, keeping you close to his chest, pressing a firm kiss to your head, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke.

“I agreed to marry the intelligent and headstrong princess to rule by my side because her mind and beauty had my heart when I saw her. A fierce woman fit to be by me, when she rode her horse into my kingdom alone, demanding justice for her people without fear of what could happen to her”

He reminisced the day you strode into his castle, head held high, not a drop of fear in your eyes with a dagger strapped to your hip, sword firm in your hand.

He fell in love before you opened your sweet lips to tell him right off.

“Look at me princess” He cupped your cheeks making you meet his intense gaze, thumbing away the tears that streaked your cheeks, “I shared my bed with you because I wanted to love you in in every way possible, not as a test of your worth”

You were still tensed, curling up into him further while he moved you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pulled the covers over you, protecting you in a cocoon of warmth, tilting your chin to meet his eyes again.

“You have my heart, that is as pure as it gets” tucking your hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss to your lips. “No one else gets to decide that, princess, no one”

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gutsby · 9 months

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Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

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cryptidcasanova · 4 months

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Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

#mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the carriage scene #bucky barnes #lover boy

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holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Before you (4)

Title: Before you (4)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Knight Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter (flashbacks), King Joseph Rogers

Warnings: angst, language, grumpy and loud Steve, hurt reader, Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), sadness, mentions of loss of loved ones, flashbacks, undefined age gap, jealous Steve?

Before you masterlist

<< Part 3

Flashback - around fifteen years ago, the castle, …

“I don’t care about my status,” Steven raises his voice. “I made a promise to myself and Y/N. She’s my chosen bride. I will not break my word.”

“Son, as a king you will have to break a lot of promises. We cannot choose a mate or queen out of love. Peggy of Carter will make a lovely bride.”

“Noooo!” the prince stomps his foot to the ground and angrily glares at his father. It’s the first time he refuses to listen to the king. “I have chosen my bride. There will be no other for me.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are the crown prince. Act like one,” the king’s voice booms through the castle. “You’re still a boy, not a man. In a few years, you’ll see things differently.”

“No. I won’t,” the prince crosses his arms over his chest. He shakes his head. “Next time I see Y/N I’ll give her a promise ring.”

“Well then, you will not see her again,” the king says.

Steven’s heart sinks. It feels like something just grabbed his heart and ripped it out of his chest.

Love can be cruel.

A king can be even crueler. Even though, he knows how his son feels.

“You will forget about her soon enough.”

Around five years ago, the castle, shortly before your father’s and brother’s death, …

“Prince Steve, look at you,” Peggy coos as she steps inside the throne room to greet the king and Steve. “You have grown so much.”

“I can say the same about you,” Steve tries to be polite, but today, it’s even harder to put on a brave face.

Once again, his father refused to let the prince visit his one true love. The wild girl that ran with horses and climbed on trees.

He can barely remember her face. It’s been almost ten years since he last saw her. All he remembers is her laughter, and how her lips felt against his trembling ones.

“Your highness, I’m honored to come here for the feast.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” the king softly says but he gives his son a stern look. “My son’s chosen bride must see the castle before the marriage. Right, son?”

“Chosen bride,” Steven splutters. “Father, a word?”

“No, you can’t do this!”

“I already arranged everything, son. Peggy of Carter will become your wife. You were friends with her before you even met that girl,” the king raises his voice. “My decision is final.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“A king must make decisions not everyone will like, Steven. One day, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Now go out there and dance with your queen…”

Steve reluctantly agreed to dance with Peggy after his father threatened to let the girl he loves lock away. “A nice evening. It’s so good to be back.”

“I thought you wanted to marry King Stark,” Steve tries to be nice, but his heart is shattered. All he can think of is the girl he’ll never see again. “Or so I heard.”

“None of the rumors were true,” Peggy coos. “You’ll make such a good king, and devoted husband.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll make you a father soon, and we can-“

Steve stops dancing and drops his hands. He shakes his head. “I can’t pretend that this is what I want. I can’t marry you, Peggy. I’m sorry…”

“Why?” she gasps. “Your Highness. Please tell me why?”

“My heart belongs to someone else…”

Steve runs off, to leave the castle and get to you.

He doesn’t see Peggy’s features darken or that she digs her nails into the palms of her hands, drawing blood as she stands in the ballroom, all eyes on her…

___

Now, outside the castle, graveyard, …

“What can I do, my beloved wife,” Steve stands in front of Peggy’s gravestone once again. “She’s the one I told you about. I wanted to marry her, and now…”

“Steve, the doctor said you shall come to your chamber,” Bucky huffs as his brother places a single flower on his wife’s grave. “I know you loved her, but there is a girl you loved too in your bed. She needs you.”

“I have a wife and child to mourn.”

“You sure about the child?” whipping his head toward Bucky, the king snarls. “Just saying, rumors inherit truth sometimes. Peggy came around…a lot.”

“I know you never liked my queen,” Steve is in his brother’s face. He pants heavily, and balls his hands into fists, “but you won’t disrespect her likes this.”

“She was away for a month to visit King Howard and his queen, and a week later she’s pregnant after years of trying?” Bucky grunts. “I know you believe she was pure, but Peggy was far from being a good wife…”

“That girl is a maid. If she’s awake, send her away,” Steve presses his wedding band to his lips.

He can’t give in.

A king must be strong. A king must follow the law. A king must not fall in love with someone he cannot have…

“Easy there, mouse,” Bucky helps you sit up. Your head still hurts, and you can only keep your eyes open for a few moments, but you are awake. At last.

“I-I should go,” you grab Bucky’s hand. “Where’s my bundle? I need to…go.”

You whimper when you catch another alpha’s scent.

“Steve, be nice,” his brother warns as the king enters his chamber. “I’ll bring her to my chambers if I must.”

“Do as you please.”

Steve looks tired and sad. Even sadder than after his wife’s death.

“I’m tired and need sleep. Get her away from me.”

“Your highness,” you weakly say. “I’ll get my clothes and bundle, and I’ll be gone. I won’t return.”

“Where do you want to go?” Bucky sadly asks.

“I will try to find someone I knew before my family died,” you clutch your hands together. “Maybe it’s stupid, but he promised to marry me. He was just a boy, and I don’t think he’ll remember me but—”

“You want to find that boy?” The king chuckles humorlessly.

“Yes.”

“Why? To bother him too,” you flinch at Steve’s harsh tone. “Do you honestly believe he remembers a dirty little maid?”

“I wasn’t always a maid.” You sniffle.

“Steve, stop right there,” Bucky hands you your bundle to calm you. “Everything is still there. I made sure of it, Y/N.”

“T-hank you. I will go now.”

“Your highness,” stumbling into the king’s chamber without knocking, Lord Samuel gasps. He didn’t know about you in his king’s room. “I’m sorry for intruding, but I found this in Lady Sharon’s hands. I knew you were looking for it.”

Sam lowers his head as he offers a book to his king.

“Her diary,” Steve whispers lowly. He was looking for his wife’s diary since she died. One day, it was just gone.

“What did Lady Sharon say?”

“Lady Sharon said that her cousin forgot the diary in her chambers. After her death, it was dear to her. She didn’t want to give it away.”

“Hmm…,” running one hand over his thick beard Steve glances at the diary in his hand. “Do you believe her?”

“No, my king. She was very nervous and tried to hide the diary. Lady Sharon refused to hand it to me at first. I had to threaten to tell you about her behavior to get it.”

“I see.”

You frown. Why would anyone steal the queen’s diary?

Well, that’s none of your concern. All you want is to get out of the castle and find some peace and quiet.

Far away from the king…

Around five years ago, weeks after your father and brother died, the castle, …

“Son, we need to talk,” the king is unusually quiet as he places his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know we thought differently about the girl you liked so much but—”

“Father? What’s wrong?”

Steve gasps as a single tear runs down his father’s cheek. The prince doesn’t know his father respected your father, even would’ve called him a friend.

“There was a fire, Steven. You know, at the stables,” a cold shiver runs down Steve’s spine as his father squeezes his shoulder. “You got to be strong now, son. I sent my knights to get to know more about the incident. It looks like the girl and her family tried to save the horses and all died…”

“No,” Steve falls to his knees. He hugs himself, crying bitterly as his father crouches down in front of him. “This can’t be, father.”

“It’s what my knights told me, son,” the king sighs deeply. “You can cry for now. But when you leave the room, you got to show strength and grace.”

“Where is she buried? Can I visit her grave?” Steve chokes on his tears.

“I heard that there was nothing left to bury and that no one was there to bury them,” the king sniffs. “I’m sorry, son. If only I let you see her one last time…”

The king gets up. He places his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it.

The king doesn’t know the knights lied, and that your mother and you survived.

He doesn’t know someone hired his knights to get rid of you and your family…

Now, …

“Where is the king?!”

“He returned to his chamber and gave orders not to be disturbed,” Sam says. “He looked a little tense after he talked to Sharon about the diary.”

“Fuck, little mouse,” Bucky hurriedly runs toward the king’s chambers. He told you to wait for him at the chamber, and now, you are all alone with the king once again.

Ten minutes earlier, the king’s chamber, …

“Why are you still here?”

You whimper as the king, not Bucky enters the chamber. You stand next to the door as the king slams it shut. He locks the door before you can slip out.

“I asked you a question,” he looks down at you with angry eyes. “Mouse, answer me.”

“Bucky said I shall wait here for him,” you shyly reply. “I didn’t want to leave without his allowance. He gave me an order, your highness.”

“Oh, he’s your king now, huh?”

“He’s…”

“Answer your king,” he lifts your chin with his index finger. “You should know, you only got one king, and that’s me.”

“I know, your highness.”

You’re full-bloom panicking as the king snatches the bundle with your few belongings out of your hands. He eyes it warily before throwing it onto his bed.

“I don’t think you know, omega,” a shudder runs through your whole being hearing your presentation leave his lips. “But you’ll know soon enough.”

“You’re the only king I serve.”

You drop your eyes to the ground. “I’m your only king. Your only master,” he mumbles as he leans closer to sniff at your neck. “Do you remain untouched or did anyone dare to put their hands on what’s mine, omega?”

“I-“ you shake your head.

“Steve? Steven?” Bucky hammers against the door. “You need to let her go. It was my fault. I told her to wait for me at your chamber. Please…Steve don’t hurt her.”

“I think he needs to learn how to talk to his king too,” Steve growls. His eyes begin to glow as he cups the back of your neck.

You whimper as he leans closer again. He’s so much taller and scarier up close. His stormy blue eyes look you deep in the eyes as he does something you never expected.

He calls you by your name. “Y/N, I need you to go to the balcony and leave me alone before I lose control.”

“Your highness?” you’re scared and confused but follow his orders the moment he releases you. “Yes, your highness.”

“My king,” he corrects. “You’ll address me with my king from now on.”

He watches you snatch the bundle from his bed before you rush toward the balcony. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as Steve unlocks the door to leave his room.

“Steve? What did you do? Where is she?” Bucky panics as he cannot see you.

“I need to see it for myself,” Steve dips his head to look at his wedding band. “You’ll tell the doctor to check on Y/N, and, she needs new clothes.”

“What do you need to see? Steve?” Bucky frowns when his brother just stares at the wedding band. “Brother?”

“I need to see what’s left of her home and if she’s the one I left behind. I need to talk to the villagers and find the truth behind all of these lies.”

“Steve, you cannot go to the village. Everyone will recognize you and not tell you the truth.”

“Well then, we will hide our identity and find out if my father lied and what really happened that night…”

>> Part 5

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