#marvel bucky

[narcissisticmf]

give in | bucky barnes x fem!reader

description: during a mission, y/n and bucky must appear as though they are romantically together despite their true hateful feelings towards one another.

trigger warnings: fake dating, enemies to lovers, foul language, seductive behavior, sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise, a lot of tension, gun usage, knife usage, graphic violence, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18. thank you.

word count: 2.6k

Sat in the back of the Quinjet, you were getting an outfit put together against your body; a skin tight black dress that revealed your curves perfectly. Your eyes gazed into the mirror as you looked at your reflection, applying a thin layer of red lipstick to your mouth. Your hair was pinned back and a silver chain laid around your neck.

The Quinjet rumbled against your feet, you were wearing pumps. It was difficult to stand in them for a while, your feet begun to ache, but you swallowed the pain as though it was just a thick pill.

You were to attend a private party to retrieve some stolen serums by Hydra. Bucky would be your second, to assist you in the retrieval. The two of you were to appear at the party as two guests. You and James didn't get along well, for a reason you didn't particularly understand; just that he got under your skin and you got under his.

Hidden in the skirts of your black dress was a dagger strapped to your undergarments. You smirked softly at your reflection and released a breath as the Quinjet finally landed somewhere rural, far from where the party would take place.

You slowly grasped a hold of your hand back, that contained several useful weaponry if needed. You walked past Bucky without making direct eye contact with him. He was dressed in all black, his hair was slicked back and slightly longer than you remembered and the stubble across his jawline looked freshly trimmed. He was.. he was..

Handsome. Divinely handsome.

Swallowing hard, you sensed Bucky was following you as you exited the Quinjet to walk towards the black car that was parked not far from the landing site. The backseat door opened for you by the driver. You slipped inside and sat with perfect posture and eventually Bucky climbed in after you. He sat with a fair distance as the driver shut the door.

.

Slowly stepping out of the car, you accepted the help of the driver by taking his hand and standing upon the pavement. You waited for Bucky to step out and when he did, you finally stared up to him.

He held out his metal arm — that was covered by a black blazer and his hands were concealed by gloves to disguise his true identity. He waited for you to lock it with his. You stared at his arm for a moment before slowly slipping your exposed arm into his.

"For this to work," Bucky whispered and lifted your chin to meet his eyes, "We must appear madly in love."

You exhaled softly, almost inaudible, "No problem."

The corner of Bucky's lips curved into a grin as the two of you walked towards the entrance. In order to gain entree, you and Bucky gave false names that were in the list of invitees. The whole time, your heart was pounding. Your face concealed that completely; not once showing an ounce of nervousness or anxiety.

Bucky kept close beside you. Your eyes bounced about the large ballroom. You tried to remember where the serums were kept hidden from what Tony and Steve instructed earlier in the week and the map they showed both you and Bucky.

If memory served you right, the serums were locked in a safe several floors below.

Your eyes locked with a man by the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey slowly. His dark eyes remained on you firmly. You slowly turned to face Bucky, so close that it seemed to fluster you.

"That man at the bar," You whispered, "I think he's Hydra."

Bucky kept his gaze on you, though you sensed he could see the man at the bar out of the corner of his eye. "Should we make him uncomfortable for staring?" He smirked slowly.

"What?" You parted your glossy lips and felt Bucky's breath against your mouth; you could almost taste it. Your body tensed as Bucky's arms snuck around your waist, pulling you in tightly. You felt your breath caught in your throat at the motion and how his hands felt against your sides. He squeezed softly, causing your knees to buckle. It was a good thing he held you.

"Give into it, sweetheart," Bucky whispered.

"Give into what?" You challenged, feeling your nose brush against his cheek; not purposefully.

Bucky eyes locked with yours as his lips slowly pressed against your mouth, enclosing whatever distance remained between you. Your body tensed at first, your core pulsed with adrenaline. It didn't take long before you gave into it. You found your lips entwined with Bucky's, tasting every inch of his breath; mint. Gaining some form of confidence and control, your hands found their way up to his face, cupping his jawline and cheeks.

Your eyes were closed as you fell into his chest, body growing weak. Slowly, he pulled back and found his gaze on you for a while. You breathed heavily, making a horrible attempt to keep it quiet. His eyes flicked upward, behind you, to see the man was gone.

"He's gone," Bucky spoke lowly.

You nodded slowly and pulled back just a few inches. A thought crept your mind as you smirked and tugged Bucky through the crowd of people dressed elegantly. You made your way towards the elevator. You didn't need to see Bucky's face to know he also had a coy smile on his lips.

Pressing your fingers to the button against the wall, you turned back to Bucky to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Perhaps, he was expecting it. You held onto the collar of his black shirt and as soon as the elevator doors opened, the two of you stumbled inside. Without parting from his mouth, you reached back to press the correct floor where the stolen serums were hidden.

Nobody paid heed to the two of you. Who would? You were simply two individuals in need of the other.

Once the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, you parted from Bucky. He was breathless and you were too. You leaned against the wall and breathed through your nose, your red painted lips smeared only slightly. Bucky stood a foot or two from you, staring at the elevator doors.

"Think they bought that?" Bucky questioned with a slight chuckle in the back of his throat.

"I think so," You nodded.

Once the doors opened, you swiftly pulled out your dagger from under the skirt of your dress and saw several agents of Hydra surrounding the safe in which the serums were locked in.

Bucky smirked as he stood beside you and pulled out a handgun that he kept smuggled in the back of his pants. The two of you walked out of the elevator with complete ease and smoothness.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be down here!" One of the men shot you and Bucky a look of annoyance. When you and Bucky didn't cower, he knew who you both must've been. There were six men; three each for you and Bucky.

You made haste and quickly used your dagger to slice an agent in the thighs, causing him to falter to the ground in pain. One of them grabbed your arm and made a fist with his free hand. You smiled and kicked the heel of your pump into his groin. Watching him sink to the ground, you made your way for another and used the hilt of your dagger, striking the man in the chest.

Bucky wasn't going to use his weapon unless he truly needed to. He was swift and confident with his strikes. Eventually, you both had all six of them against the floor.

"Lovely," You spoke dryly and made your way to the safe. This part was all Bucky; all he needed to do was use the strength of his arm to break open the metal.

You retrieved all of the stolen serums and shoved them into your handbag before casually leaving the party.

.

In your bedroom of the compound, you used a wipe to remove the layers of cosmetics that were upon your face. You had a long shower once the makeup was off and stood before your mirror, applying lotion to the dry parts of your skin. You wore a light pink silk robe to cover your naked body beneath.

A knock was heard against your door. You slowly stopped what you were doing and led yourself to the wooden door, opening it slightly to reveal Bucky.

"May I help you?" You questioned, with slight condescension.

Bucky swallowed, his throat bobbed. Your gaze softened as he appeared.. nervous. He slowly entered the room and you allowed him, not fighting or challenging him in such a state. He latched the door shut behind him and stared at you, his gaze flickered to your lips.

"What are you doing–" You started, but were interrupted by his mouth on yours. You didn't fight it and allowed him to slip his arms around your waist, squeezing your curves perfectly. Your hair was still damp from the shower as he gripped the back of it firmly, slowly pulling your head back.

"I can't get you outta my head, doll," Bucky breathed out desperately. You stared at him, not once breaking eye contact. "That sweet scent of yours.." He lowered his head to your neck, taking in a breath of the vanilla soap you used from the shower. "And the way you taste," He raised his head and attached his lips to yours once more. Bucky groaned at the flavor of your lipbalm.

It wasn't long before he had your back against the large bed of yours. Your hands were in his hair, gently tugging at the ends of it. He slowly rocked his hips into yours as you moaned shakily against his mouth.

"Wanna get this off you.." Bucky whispered gesturing to the robe you had on, grasping a hold of the knot at the front. "May I?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"Yes," You nodded and he made haste, swiftly untying the knot and pulling it from your body. He tossed it to the carpet floor and smiled down at you. You had absolutely nothing on underneath that robe. His large hands made contact with your skin. The cold metal of his left hand made you shiver softly, a smile against your mouth.

"Your turn," You breathed out, gesturing to his clothes.

As quickly as he removed your robe, he undid his pants, yanking them off with ease. He became completely uncladded before you. You took the opportunity to admire how truly beautiful he was. Perhaps, in the past, you hadn't taken the time to notice how perfect he was.

His lips collapsed into yours. He was hungry. You released a breath just before he found his mouth on yours. You arched your back so that your breasts were pressed up against his chest. Bucky smiled into your mouth and firmly pushed your hips down against the mattress.

"Patience," He whispered into your ear and let his teeth gently toy with your lobe.

You nodded slowly and breathed out as his lips came into contact with your neck. You exhaled and leaned your head back, trying to suppress the moans that were threatening to come out of you.

"Do you still hate me, Y/N?" Bucky mumbled against the skin of your throat.

"Yes," You shakily breathed out.

Bucky smiled and used his metal fingers to cup your breast. You whined in response and closed your eyes. His mouth pressed to your nipple, letting his tongue swirl and mouth suck on the sensitive skin. You curled your toes in response, grasping the sheets with one hand and with the other you entangled your fingers in the back of his hair.

He hummed at the feeling your hardened nipple against his tongue. You felt your core pulse and arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs.

Bucky used his metal fingers to run down your stomach, sides and hips. You shivered at the cold feeling.

"How about now, sweetheart?" Bucky raised his head to watch your face. "Do you still hate me now?" He slipped his metal hand between your legs and dragged them up and down your entrance, the wetness coated his hand.

"No," You opened your eyes and shook your head, staring at him as your chest rose and fell rapidly. He slipped a finger inside as you opened your mouth to moan softly. As quickly as your eyes opened, they closed to soak in the feeling of that cold metal pumping in and out of you. You spread your legs to allow him better access. You didn't realize it, but he started lowering himself. He took in the scent of your arousal and hummed with a soft smile.

Bucky pulled your metal fingers out and replaced them with his mouth between your legs. You whined audibly and reached down to entangle your fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes to stare up at you, watching the way your body reacted to his motions.

The way your back arched at each flick of his tongue and the way your grip in his hair tightened the deeper he pushed his face in.

You couldn't deny the reactions your body was having even if you tried. Bucky knew exactly what he was doing and took note of what felt good for you.

"I wanna be inside you, Y/N," Bucky pulled his head back slightly and kissed your inner thighs. He rose his body up to press kisses along your lower stomach, humming softly as he did so.

You pulled him up to your face and kissed his lips deeply, tasting yourself against him. You parted your legs as a way to signal that you wanted him inside you as well. He smiled into your mouth and held your thigh firmly with his metal hand.

Slowly, he guided himself inside you. You wanted to scream and rip the sheets with how tightly you gripped them. Your eyes filled with tears at how amazing he felt and fit inside you.

"You feel amazing, sweetheart," Bucky pressed his lips to your mouth. You reached your hands up to drape around his neck, gently squeezing his skin, unable to contain how good he felt.

"Oh God, Buck.." You whispered, moaning into his ear. He rocked his hips, moving in and out of you with ease. You were so comfortable with him.

"Such a good girl," He whispered darkly into your ear, "Taking me so well." You arched your back and whined at his words. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to stay as close against him as possible.

It wasn't long before the knot in your stomach slowly came undone.

"Oh, Y/N.. I can feel that," Bucky moaned and kissed you deeply. "You gonna come around me?" You pressed your lips into his harder to muffle the screams you wanted to let out. You reached a pinnacle and slowly pulled your lips back from his.

Bucky slowly pulled from inside you and released his load against your stomach. You arched your back and moaned at the intoxicating feeling of his release against your skin. It was oddly cold.

You were breathless and tired. Bucky was also as he laid beside you. You laughed nervously and turned your head to press a longing kiss to his lips.

"Happy you finally gave into it?" Bucky smirked into your kiss.

You smiled and pulled back, "Yes, are you?"

His smile said enough.

.

a/n: im so sorry i haven't been as active on here!! i've been doing a lot of reading lately more so than writing! also how would yall feel about some acotar fics?? ehh?? maybe?? i've been really thinking about writing some azriel fics! if that's something you guys wanna read, please let me know! i love you guys mwah! — angelina.

[munsonshire]

Bucky Barnes as a Boyfriend

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (gender neutral reader) Warnings: all fluff Masterlist

He worries so much about your safety

He's the kind of boyfriend that would want to dance with you at all times, given that he's from the 40s he would dance to old songs with you

You like to stick magnets to his metal arm to decorate it, he doesn't like it one bit, at first at least, he keeps being grumpy about it but deep down you know he likes it. It makes his metal arm feel less like a deadly weapon and more like something he could get used to and actually like over time.

Likes to travel, he wants to see everything he didn't have time to see in the past and so, he will take you with him

When he leaves on missions he leaves something of his with you so you don't forget him

He makes sure that you know you're loves

He's really into pda

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

🔮 I’ll take your example: what turns Bucky on?

What Turns Bucky Barnes On? - Tarot Reading 🔮 (18+)

This is for my 1k celebration event! Submissions are still open until Sunday!

4 of Wands - This card represents stability and commitment, such as marriage or at the very least a lengthy relationship. It suggests that Bucky would only feel comfortable being sexually intimate around people he felt a deep connection with. Essentially, he won't have sex with just anyone. He will only give his body to those he can envision a future with. This makes sense for Bucky, as he has experienced so much over the years, he is probably just tired and ready to settle down with a long term partner.

5 of Cups - This card represents heart ache and trauma. It suggests that in relationships, Bucky looks for potential partners who are emotionally intelligent, and understand the complexities of what trauma can do to a person. He needs someone who will accept him despite his past, and help support his triggers and traumatic memories. This man is in need of tender loving, and he won't feel comfortable sleeping with someone until they have formed a deeper, emotional connection.

6 of Pentacles - This card represents kindness and compassion, and again suggests that Bucky is extremely turned on by a deep, emotional connection. He looks for people who are naturally caring, who will love him without judgement, who will tend to his needs. This card could also suggest that during sex, Bucky likes to be a 'reciever' and feel validated by both vocal and physical stimulation from an intimate partner.

[dailyunstableeve]

Comfort

Bucky x magic welder reader

Context: Bucky and you have been best friends since 1930, together with Steve Roger. You and Bucky love each other, you both aren't dating but you both always be there for each other no matter what.

On a random night, you got a phone call from Bucky, he sounded unwell, you didn't think twice and rushed to his apartment.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . °

You knock on the door, anxiously.

Thinking if he got a cold or his mission with Sam didn't go well or he had a nightmare again.

"Bucky?" You called, trying not to raise your voice too loud to wake up the neighborhood even though the anxiousness is rising so high.

"You're here," you could hear the relief the moment you and Bucky saw each other.

"You called," you smiled.

"I uh, didn't expect you would really show up," Bucky led on the door, having the door open wide, "come in."

Bucky followed you from behind when you walked in. You seated yourself on your favorite spot on Bucky's couch and he would just rest his head on your lap and his body take all the space on the couch.

"What happened?" You softly asked, caressingly brushes his hair.

"I had a nightmare, about the old days," Bucky looked at you, in his eyes, you can see the brownness and sadness. The dream must've hurt him too much.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"You already know all about it," he scoffed.

"Well yeah," you chuckled.

It's true you know all about it since Bucky always asks for you when he has a nightmare or he wants someone to talk about. You're the best listener for him.

"So why am I here?" You asked.

"I just want you to be here, at least there's someone with me."

"I'll stay whenever you want me to, Buck," you gently smiled.

Just like always, you would use your magic power to show Bucky the most magical scene ever.

You showed him the happiest memories of you and him together, with some happy memories of him and Steve, only helping him to remember the happy moments, no sad moments.

You would hum the melody you always hear in the bar you go to with Bucky, because you both always dance to that song, and end the dance with a bright smile on each other's faces.

You would tell him how much you care for him, that you'll always stay with him until death finds you.

Bucky fell back asleep like he always did and you would look at his sleeping face with love, of how much you cherish this moment with him.

You and Bucky love each other, to the point that it won't be called friendship anymore, but both of you know that you and Bucky are scared to commit, because once you both did, one will die and it will hurt more than it should be.

"I love you Bucky."

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

I'm delulu as hell

[wandasfifthwife]

every waking hour. every sleeping hour. sweating. panting. heaving. back-breaking. crying. moaning. back arching. every crevice. every day.

edit is not mine, credit to editor in video

[val-writesstuff]

Dear Diary:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence,

Masterlist | Taglist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Not Going Back

Chapter 2

Remember, likes are nice but reblogs/feedback are golden!

[justkending]

Finding Memories. Chapter 17.

Series Summary: Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader 

Word Count: 3500+

TW: Torture, cussing, gore, PTSD, triggers.  

Chapter 17:

As soon as the two walked into the training room, Wanda and Nat were already there pacing and growing nervous with each passing second.

"Oh, thank God," Nat sighed, dropping her head in relief and walking towards them. "We heard what happen when we were flying back."

Wanda analyzed Y/N and knew instantly how scattered she was mentally and emotionally.

"We're ok, but I'm more worried about the why in this whole situation," Y/N was quick to the punch. Not leaving any space for questions and harping on what they couldn't go back and change.

"We saw the footage," Nat spoke up, letting her know she didn't need to worry about briefing them. "Nice block by the way. Don't remember something that powerful coming up in practice."

She had a sense of pride in her voice, and Y/N was happy to see someone show some casual reactions to it all. She needed some form of normalcy.

"That powerful?" Bucky spoke up, his eyes showing confusion. "Meaning, you've done something like that before?"

Y/N turned to him, where usually she would be bashful and ambivalent in this kind of situation, it wasn't the energy she had stepped into as of the last couple of hours.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to tell you about everything we've discovered in our time of training. I was seconds from telling you everything when that man appeared," she explained promptly.

"Oh, you were?" Nat smirked some, but the two didn't pay mind to it.

"So a lot of the things we're about to talk about are going to be..." she hesitated not sure how to word it. "Startling?"

"Why do you say that like a question?" Bucky tilted his head some, slightly worried.

"I don't know how you're going to take it, but just promise that we've been safe about it," she put her hands up and walked back to Wanda and Nat.

"How did you do it?" Wanda asked. "We've only been able to muster up a fraction of what you did."

"Yeah, nothing big like that has happened since the day I threw a hit at you," Nat added.

"Wait, a hit?" Bucky spoke up, but they ignored him and continued on with their talk.

It was likely there were going to be a few concerned interruptions from him as they kept discussing their adventures together.

"I don't know. All I could think about was keeping Bucky safe, and the next thing I knew, there was an entire shield of energy in front of us," Y/N answered.

"How did you see him?" Nat asked, crossing her arms as she concentrated on the details.

"I just did. He didn't look like you guys look now. Something about his outline and lighting around him was different, but he wasn't hard to miss," she thought out loud.

"And the gun? How did you stop it?" Wanda asked now.

"Same kind of instinct when Nat tried to punch me."

"I'm sorry. Punch?" Bucky was wide-eyed listening in on everything.

"It was for an experiment," Y/N brushed off trying to emphasize how little of a deal it was at the moment, but Bucky couldn't seem to accept that.

"Experiment, huh..." He tried to hide his concern. "Yeah, makes total sense," he nodded, placing his hands in his pockets. "Punching people as an experiment is something Steve used to do too," he mumbled under his breath. "Look where that got him."

He stepped a few feet out of the circle realizing all questions would need to be asked at a better time because he wasn't going to be able to bounce back from the quick and nonchalant answers right now.

And knowing Nat and Wanda, the new information was likely to become more offhanded and stressful if he thought about it too much.

"You seemed to do everything in a way like it was natural. Did it feel that way?" Wanda asked, knowing the personal side of things.

"That's a good way to put it I guess," Y/N nodded, looking down as she tried to think back to the feelings and thoughts that came to her at the moment. "Putting the barrier up, or whatever that was, felt like second nature. The instinct was without hesitance and it was like I trusted myself to know what to do even if I don't ever remember being able to do something like that."

"You did a hand gesture," Nat pointed at her hands, Wanda and her following her finger. "Was that what made him appear?" Y/N looked at her hands carefully. "I know a thing or two about muscle memory and that looked like a product of that."

Bucky turned back, still giving them space, but watching as Wanda and Y/N studied her hands carefully.

Y/N never responded to Nat's question or comment, but instead looked at her hands as if they were some kind of bomb. Not in fear that it would go off, but in fear at what all it could do.

"I have a suggestion, but we may want to clear the room," Wanda spoke up looking at the two in front of her. "And by clear the room I mean, you two need to watch from outside." This time her look was pointed to Nat and Bucky.

"I don't think we should-" Bucky started when he caught onto what she was getting at, but before he could finish the thought, Nat was already turning him around and shoving him to the exit.

"Have fun. Don't blow up the place," Nat said as she walked to the doors with the soldier in front of her resisting.

Once on the other side of the industrial Stark tech that acted as a protective screen for the non-magic wielders, Bucky didn't stop glaring at Nat.

"I can feel your eyes, but I'm not getting into this with you right now," the redhead spoke up as she stared straight ahead. Seconds passed and he never let up on his stare. "You're being a grumpy old man. Stop it."

"I'm trying to keep her safe."

"Yeah?" Nat sassed, turning to him. "Then congrats you're already doing that." Bucky lowered an eyebrow at the angry compliment.

"What-"

"She's not hurt and she's alive right?"

Bucky rolled his eyes knowing this talk.

"Don't start with that."

"Oh I'm just getting started with that," she mocked his voice knowing he need the bullying some. "And she's currently in the room with the person best capable of keeping her safe given the scenario of invisible men and siren shriekers." The hint at the information only Tony and he knew of at the moment made the surprise in his eyes very evident. "Yeah, I know about you're little mini-team meetings with Stark. Thanks for letting me in on that by the way."

"It happened last night and you were headed out on a mission!" Bucky defended, now acting more like an angsty teen than a grumpy grandpa.

"Oh, did Stark not supply you with some way to communicate with people that aren't 5 feet in front of you? I think there's a storage closet around here somewhere with some of the most highly intelligent technology in the world to help you with that next time."

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to the screen knowing he was in the wrong this time and wasn't going to dig himself into a bigger hole.

She followed suit and knew she won and turned back to monitor where Wanda was instructing Y/N on her idea.

"Oh and by the way. There better not be a next time. I'll kick your ass if there is," she said casually.

Back in the training room with luckily some of the more reinforced walls, Wanda had stepped Y/N through a few things she wanted to try to see if she could dig deeper into the powers she used to uncloak the man.

"Ok, I'm going to make that body dummy seem to disappear. I want you to try and remember the movement and thought process you did earlier. Don't force it and don't try and think too hard. It's all about the intentions," she noted.

And in the distance, Wanda did a twist of her hand and the body dummy vanished from sight.

Y/N looked at her apprehensively before taking a step and looking at her hands.

She thought back to the hand gestures. She connected her wrist, left her palms open, and twisted them to the right.

And the mannequin seemed to appear some, but it looked to only show when her hand scanned it before vanishing again.

"Try again. You have the motion, but you have to imagine it reappearing too," Wanda coached.

Y/N used her notes and took her hands apart before starting over. She took a breath before connecting her wrist again and following the motions. Now using the motion without thought, she concentrated on what the mannequin looked like and where it stood.

The dummy appeared and showed it had never left.

"Ok, so you're a quick learner," Wanda grinned impressed.

_____________________________

On the other side of the glass, Bucky was frozen trying to process the things he was seeing. He had known her powers were going to come up eventually, but watching someone who seemed oblivious to her abilities beforehand, go to doing what she was doing now... He couldn't seem to comprehend it.

"You guys knew about this?" Bucky asked.

"We knew something happened to her the night at the art show. She came to me that night. Was terrified that she turned into another person and couldn't remember what she had done to that girl that ended up in the wall."

"Another person?" Bucky was upset he didn't know that.

"She blacked out. A common thing with PTSD as you know," Nat shrugged. "Especially since she hadn't done something like that before."

"What'd you do to help her?" Bucky asked, for personal reasons.

"Trusted she could make a decision for herself," Nat gave her signature smirk. "All I could do after was lend support."

"You say that like it's an easy thing," Bucky chuckled, feeling at a crossroads with himself.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Nat shrugged unbothered.

"Because sometimes people aren't looking out for themselves in their choices. They could end up hurt," Bucky responded.

"And either way is it your life's mission to tell them they can't do it their way," Nat asked.

"It's not my life's mission," Bucky snarked.

"Then move on. You can give people guidance and advice, but they don't have to take it. Again. It's their. Choice."

Her wording made it seem like a common knowledge statement that he was just learning.

"She's been hanging out with you too much," Bucky shook his head with pursed lips and looked back to Y/N and Wanda.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she huffed, fake offended.

"The conversation I had in the hall with her while fighting her to get some rest before coming here, sounded like a conversation you and I would have. Not me with her."

"Oo, so the two love birds finally had their first fight. How sweet?" she gushed in an exaggerated way before giving him a shit grin.

"Love birds? -" Bucky started to question.

"Glad to know that I'm rubbing off on her. I'm all for a woman learning to say Fuck Off to men," she nodded in pride. Bucky gave an offended look. "I mean all men deserve at least one or two Fuck Off's now and again. No one's perfect," Nat shrugged.

___________________________

"Ok, so we have the disappearing and reappearing down. And apparently, you can undisguise anything without knowing what it looks like," Wanda listed the few fields they explores. Can we try something a little different?"

"What kind of different?" Y/N asked curiously.

"Less hide and seek and more..." she balanced her hands back and forth. "Can you use the force?"

Y/N turned her head impressed with knowing the reference thanks to movie nights.

"Are you quoting Star Wars right now?" Y/N grinned.

"Yeah, I just wanted to lighten the mood some," Wanda grinned back. "I'm sorry you're going through this." Y/N raised her hand ready to say something, but Wanda already knew. "I know, I know. I shouldn't be apologizing, but I hate that you have to rush into learning about this for this reason and you can't just explore it for yourself."

Y/N had been thinking about that too. She had been gifted with over a week of time not worrying about people out to get her. She had been able to heal and learn about herself again at a pace that seemed comfortable and safe.

And ever since the museum incident, she's felt like her pace quickened and she can't seem to catch her breath.

In a perfect world, she would have been able to have all the time she needed before going up against her demons. She would have time for full growth before getting justice for herself.

Although, in the perfect world she could have no demons and she wouldn't have the trauma that hangs over her like a cloud.

"It's something I'll have to come back to, but for now I need this more," she responded.

It was a harsh way of thinking, but she wasn't seeing many rainbows in the hurricanes she was being thrown into.

"Well, step by step then. We are going to figure this out," Wanda smiled softly. "Now as for the force," she raised her hands in her own practiced manner. "I want you to try and lift something over on that weight rack."

Y/N turned to where she pointed and carefully yet casually, Wanda set the example of what she meant.

As Y/N raised her own hands, nothing happened immediately. She closed her eyes trying to concentrate and Wanda was quick to correct her.

"Don't actually force it. Focus on the intention and visualize it."

Y/N relaxed her tension some and shook her head out of her nerves.

"Focus on your breathing."

She followed her instructions and soon she was relaxed enough to try again.

And one of the weights lifted in the same kind of purple haze she had seen most of her energy form into.

In shock, she dropped the weight and they both turned to each other with mouths wide open. Wanda let out one single HA and they both squealed before running to each other and hugging.

"Look's like you guys figured something out," Nat's voice was heard and they turned to the two.

"Look like Y/N has a lot more tricks up her sleeves that we need to discover," Wanda smiled nudging her shoulder while in a side hug.

"It's impressive," Nat smiled. "Right, Bucky?" she elbowed him behind her and he let out a grunt not expecting the hit.

"Jesus," he huffed, giving her a small shove back. "But yes. That was," he looked to Y/N who was waiting for his response with a small smile. "Impressive. Really impressive," he smiled, happy to see that she was happy.

"We still have a lot to discover, but clearly we're going to make some pretty fast progress," Wanda jumped in, squeezing her into her side one more time before letting her go.

"How about we go grab some lunch and we can talk about anything else we need to first," Nat offered. Bucky looked at her knowing she was mainly asking for him for his sanity of keeping Y/N taken care of.

"I think lunch is a good idea," Wanda agreed.

Y/N agreed and therefore Bucky agreed and they went to the kitchen to carry on with their personal investigation.

As Wanda prepared some easy and fast chicken noodle soup for the group, Y/N continued to debrief them on what happened.

"So same thing when you kept him restrained?" Nat asked, handing Wanda a spice and following Y/N's story. "You just knew what to do?"

"I guess," Y/N shrugged.

"Did you know the man?" A new voice entered the space.

Everyone turned their head to the entrance of the room and in walked Tony with a file in hand with a look of intrusivity proudly on his face.

"What?" Nat asked harshly, not caring for the tone he was bringing to the conversation.

"I said, did you know the man? Y/N," he smiled, but the people who knew him best knew it wasn't a genuine one.

She looked to Bucky, furrowing her eyebrows at the questioning, but he was too busy staring daggers at Tony.

"We're trying to have lunch. This can wait," he said sternly.

"That's fine. You guys go ahead and have your lunch. I just need one answer to my one question and I'll be on my way."

He was putting on a show for Y/N trying to make her think it was a simple question he needed for research and not as much as the paranoid micromanager he was trying to be.

"And I said it could wait," Bucky repeated, never turning away from him.

"It's fine, Bucky," Y/N said trying to assure him that it really was by putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning so she could see Tony better. "It's nice to see you again Tony," she smiled, throwing him off some.

He sent her a nod with pursed lips, not expecting a kind reaction to his harsh question.

"Can you repeat what you said?" she asked. Bucky, Wanda, and Nat were all confused at what was happening but let it play out anyway.

Tony furrowed his eyebrows at her question but asked it again. Now having to say it a third time, the tone was much less demanding and actually a question.

"The man out there. The one you Obi-Wan Kenobied out on the trail. Was that someone you knew?" he asked, but with much more curiosity than fury.

"Truthfully, I barely got a look at him at first," she shrugged, placing her hands on the table. "But I snuck the file on him and caught a peak at his name and picture."

Bucky turned to her shocked.

"How did you sneak a file?" he asked alarmed by this news.

"Someone was looking at it while they were watching me downstairs earlier. They laid it down for a few seconds when they got called to fix something," she shrugged. "I got a good look at the picture and saw the name."

"And did you know him?" Tony was walking to the counter now, realizing this conversation wasn't going to be the fight he prepared for.

"I'm not sure," she said a little disappointed in the news herself. "But something in me told me to do exactly what I needed to do to restrain him. It was like a memory I guess. Muscle memory kicked in and that makes me think that I do know him."

"Or you've fought a lot of assholes in your life," Nat hummed, biting a carrot.

Everyone ignored her but Wanda who gave her a small hip bump.

"Do you think if I brought you down to the holding room you could get an in-person look and see if anything clicks for you?" Tony asked.

He knew the question would be pushing a boundary, but he wanted one person to answer and it wasn't the man staring at him as if his thoughts alone would disintegrate him.

"Actually-," she started.

"No. Nuh uh. Not happening," Bucky shook his head and raised his hands. "She's not going down there, Stark."

Tony completely ignored him already knowing what his answer to the question would be, hence why he didn't direct it to him.

"What do you say, Y/N?" he asked, emphasis on the "you".

"I think that-" she started again.

"It's too soon," Bucky shook his head, not even considering the ideas going around. "It hasn't even been 5 hours since everything happened."

"Barnes," Nat interrupted and Bucky snapped his attention her way. Her look alone was one of annoyance and disappointment. "He's not asking you. It's not your choice," she reminded him of their talk from earlier.

"But-" he started again.

"Butts are for kicking," Nat shook her head and raised an eyebrow at him, silently communicating to him that his was going to be the next one kicked if he kept talking.

He wanted to argue. That's all his brain wanted to do... But he knew he was wrong. He knew Nat was the voice of reason when he wanted to continue to protect her his way.

He let out a deep breath and waved the conversation on, sitting back in his seat for Y/N and Tony to see each other better.

Y/N took note of him letting her have control over the situation and was thankful. Though she sent her thankful smile to the redhead that helped in the threat.

"He won't see you since you'll be on the other side of the glass," Tony explained. "And you don't have to even talk to him."

"You don't have to convince me," she said with a careful breath of her own. "I think I need to see for myself who he really is."

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[f-a-b-l-e]

The giant red star on the Winter Soldier's arm is so camp. I have no other words for it.

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

James ''Bucky'' Barnes (10th March 1917)

Marvel Cinematic Universe

[ablueboombox-be]

BUCKY BARNES - I'm a Survivor | The Winter Soldier (Marvel The Avengers) 2WEI | Sebastian Stan Edit

[lungthief]

listen. i know it's not 2014 anymore and i know it's just a throwaway line and that the russo brothers didnt intend for marvel action blockbuster captain america the winter soldier to become the tragic gay love story that never was but man. having steve say "it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience" in a conversation about romantic relationships right before the bucky reveal is so cruel. it's not just about steve and bucky obviously having the shared experience of being "out of time," it's the fact that they've both been stripped of their humanity in opposite directions. steve is a legend, he is an american hero and a national icon before he is a human being the same way that bucky is a weapon and a killing machine before he is a human being. steve knows that anyone who falls in love with him in the 21st century fell in love with captain america first, and that's just not him. but then the one person who knew him first and knew him best and loved him (not captain america, that little guy from brooklyn) so much he died for it is alive, impossibly. and it's a miracle because he's back and it's horrific because he's back under the worst possible circumstances. but to steve, the winter soldier is worth tearing the world apart for because he's always been bucky first. they find each other and suddenly they're human again. and maybe, despite it all, being "out of time" becomes a blessing, because in this century they'd finally be allowed to love each other the way they've always wanted to. like real people do.

like. no. the captain america trilogy isn't about two queer men traumatized and alienated by war and modern life rediscovering and reclaiming their humanity through their love for each other. but. i mean. it couldve been

[narcissisticmf]

training session | bucky barnes x gn!reader

request: "Hey congrats on the 1k!! Am I okay to request “I hate you” “no you don’t” with Bucky please" from anonymous & like ten other ppl

description: when bucky and y/n are training, things get intense.

trigger warnings: violence, fighting, fluff, cheeky!reader, weapon usage, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

Swinging your dagger through the air, Bucky continued to step back dodging each one of your strikes. The air was brisk in the training room, inside the Avengers Compound. Despite the chill temperature, sweat trickled down along the sides of your face and the bridge of your nose.

You stepped forth and let out a subtle grunt as you swung the dagger across the space between you and Bucky, making a clank against his metal arm.

"Nice try, doll," Bucky grinned as you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

Using your parted lips, you released a huff of air to blow the hair away from your eyes. Breathing for less than a minute, Bucky took advantage of your vulnerable state and lunged forward with a fist clenched at his metal hand. You gripped his cold fist with your gloved hand and pushed him back, striking your foot to his knee.

He let out a gravely yelp and stumbled backward.

"Aw, what's the matter?" You cooed, "Did the big bad man get hurt?"

"I hate you," Bucky grumbled as he attempted to stand up straight.

"No, you don't," You grinned mischievously, "Not yet at least."

Bucky's eyes squinted with curiosity as you gripped onto your dagger and continued swinging it from left to right. A cold grip was felt against your wrist as your movements were stopped by a harsh hold upon you. You smiled through heavy breaths as Bucky harshly pushed your back.

You stumbled amongst the foam mat. "Time," You patted your wrist and tried to catch your breath, your chest rose and fell rapidly as Bucky's did the same.

"A little advice, sweetheart," Bucky started as he walked over towards the bench to grab his water bottle. "Try to keep a balance between using your hands and feet," He spoke breathlessly as you stared at him. "You don't wanna strain too much of one thing," He finished and took a long sip from his bottle.

"Good to know," You replied and grabbed your own drink, chugging down the cold liquid.

Bucky placed his water down and looked at you with a tight-lipped grin. "Ready to continue?"

"Always ready," You swallowed the last gulp of water and tossed your bottle to the side before picking up your dagger.

You released a gentle breath and held a strong grip to the handle of your weapon. Wielding the sharp knife, you swung it towards Bucky as he effortlessly gripped onto your wrist again. You smirked subtly and slammed your knee into his groin. He grunted, falling against the mat on both his knees, with a hand putting pressure against the spot at which you so aggressively struck.

"Y/N/N, what the hell?" Bucky groaned and looked up to you with dilated pupils.

"What? You said to use balance between my hands and legs," You smiled as he sighed with discomfort raging through the rest of his body.

Bucky released a whine, "Now, I really hate you."

.

a/n: hi cuties!! this prompt for bucky was HIGHLY requested and this was the first thing i could think of to where the statement would take place! i hope you liked it. thank you again so much for 1k!! i love you all so much and thank you for taking part in my event! — angelina.

[gutsby]

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

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?”

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

🔮what does Bucky Barnes want in his significant other?

What does Bucky Barnes want from a significant other? - Tarot Reading

This is for my 1k celebration event! Submissions are open until the end of the day ✨️

Page of Wands Reversed - In the reversed position, this card represents someone dealing with bad news, upsetting outcomes, or just negative events in general. It suggests that Bucky is looking for someone who, very much like him, understands what it feels like experience trauma. He needs to find someone who can look upon his past without judgement, and tend to his needs with nothing but care, because they know how it feels to be broken.

Knight of Pentacles Reversed - Unfortunately, this card represents a male energy who can be problematic and selfish at times. Naturally, through all of his trauma, Bucky is not a perfect person. This man will have the tendency to snap, to push you away, to require some space, and to be triggered easily. He is not an 'easy' person to date. Sometimes he may not be able to support you, because he needs to focus on his own mental health, his own space, and his own needs. He doesn't mean to be selfish, he just has very complexed emotional needs. But the right person will no doubt understand and tolerate this, acknowledging Bucky's past and allowing him to heal however he needs to.

The Hierophant Reversed - Again, this card in the reversed position represents someone who is a little more unpredictable and chaotic, someone who isn't exactly simple. This again confirms that Bucky is looking for a partner who understands what trauma feels like, and may come with their own baggage and triggers. Similarly, it also clarifies the previous card, that Bucky himself is not an easy person to date. But with the right person, they will always figure it out ❤️

[ao3topshipsbracket]

AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Round 2 Side 1

This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[wingedcorgi]

mfw i decide to remake a comic from 8 years ago