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crushedbyhyperbole · 2 years

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His Words

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know who he is or who he used to be, but he knows three things; he can’t get caught again, he needs to conquer the monster in his head, and he needs help to do it. He puts his trust in you, his fishnets and corset clad angel of mercy - Goddess Noir.

Words: ~4.2k

A/N: Sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader. Set after the warehouse scene in CACW, this is a canon-divergent story of how Bucky became free his trigger words (kind of). There’s mentions of hypnotism and sexual conditioning, reader is Goddess Noir - a seasoned dominatrix who cares for her subs. I’m far from an expert in any of this - it’s not written for accuracy though I try to be as informed as I can be.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy, and humbly request your feedback. I love hearing from you guys and appreciate all the love you can give ❤

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional distress/comfort, dom/sub, coming untouched, bondage, mentions of: past trauma/edging/conditioning.

***18+ content - please don’t continue if you’re underage***

His desperation had been unsurmountable. All that fear. All that hate. He had burned with it, even as he had come back to himself in that dingy warehouse with the weapon clamped in a vice. The memory of the dark place his mind went to when the words took over left him feeling nauseous. A tangy sour taste lingered in the back of his throat, bile and bitterness for all of the things they’d made him do.

Those two men weren’t any different, clamping him into a piece of equipment to take his choice away.

One had said he knew him. He had said he was his friend. The man from the bridge.

He didn’t have any friends. Only handlers and superiors. There had been something… once. A lifetime ago, when he wasn’t this thing they made him into. When he wasn’t a monster. He got flashes of it sometimes when, triggered by smells and tastes, he would recall something he forgot he ever had; family. They were all gone now. Lost to history.

The struggle to free himself had been short, shifting the plates of the weapon like an articulated track, he had slipped free and silently exited via the rear access. The two men had underestimated him, but he knew they would come after him as soon as they realised he was gone. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them, he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, but he would if he had to. All he wanted was to disappear and never be found. To go where the things inside him couldn’t get free ever again.

In the months since his escape, he’d seen his face on the news and in the papers of every town and city in every country he passed through on his trek across Europe and back. He knew he couldn’t settle but he had to find someone who could help him, someone who would help him. That’s how he found you.

Your black and silver business card had saved his life. The words “The Goddess” in silver swirling font on the glossy card, and a phone number on the back. Though he hadn’t realised how lucky he was then, he certainly knew it now. The lowlife who had passed it to him had smirked when, in desperate whispers, he had asked for someone who dealt in hypnotism and wasn’t afraid to break moral codes.

You weren’t even the first person he had tried, but you had been the last. He feared that his disguises weren’t good enough, that the Interpol would find him and turn him over to the American Government, or worse, HYDRA would claim him. There was constant hypervigilance and the crushing worry that one of the handful of people he had sought out would turn him over, get him caught. He was exhausted.

You had been different. So far removed from what he expected that he wasn’t sure he was even in the right place when he walked through your door. Your warm smile had drawn him in but your attire spoke of sex and desire. Behind you, an open door drew his gaze. The red glow did little to hide the contents; a cushioned table with restraints, a large cage, a wall display of implements you no doubt used to inflict pain.

He balked, turning hastily to leave.

“Bucky, is it?” Your voice was soft as you use the name he had given to you on the phone. He turned his head to watch you over his shoulder. He couldn’t fully remember if that was his name, but the man on the bridge had been so sure.

Hastily you swung a white robe around yourself, covering your tight black corset and plunging cleavage. The red glow diminished as you closed the door with a soft click.

He knew he should run but something about you told him to stay. He nodded, silently searching your face for any sign of deception.

“Do you want to sit?”

He eyed the dark leather sofa suspiciously. A curt nod and he moved cautiously to sit.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

He swallowed, a slight croak escaping his throat, little used for speaking. “W-water please.”

You smiled brightly and filled a paper cup from a water cooler in the corner. You set it on the table in from of him and stepped back, creating a reassuring distance between you.

“I think I know why you’re here.” You perched your bottom on the edge of your desk, fishnet clad legs crossed at the ankles where your glossy black shoes yielded heels sharp enough they could be used as weapons.

He swallowed. If you had recognised him, he might have to leave quickly. He didn’t want to hurt you but the people who would come looking for him might.

“This is a safe space, Bucky.” You said softly. “There isn’t anything that you can tell me that would shock me or make me judge you.”

“That isn’t a promise you can ever hope to keep.” It was the longest sentence he had said since his phone call to you when the words do you do hypnosis? and I need your help came tumbling from his lips.

“Can you help me understand? I want to help you, Bucky.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. If he told you everything he knew and everything he had done, you would call the authorities and he would have to disappear again. The reports in the news about him had started to fall away of late, the infamous Winter Soldier vanished without a trace. He would have to do it all over again.

“Would you be more comfortable somewhere less intimidating? I can tell you’re nervous about being here.”

“No.” He snapped. “No.” Softer but still fearful. “Here is fine. It’s just-” he clenched his jaw. “It’s just not something I can trust anyone with.”

“Then start with what you can tell me and see how we go from there?”

He nodded, resigning himself to the telling of his tale. You were a reassuring presence despite being a stranger. Your vibe good and supportive, a total contrast to the image he had gotten from the inside of red-lit room. He decided to trust you. His journey away from HYDRA and the words that made him their slave had to begin somewhere. One trusting step after another.

He started with the words, and what they did to him. Then he told you how they put them there, the torture and conditioning that took them years to achieve. Then he told you who, and that was where realisation kicked in. A brief flicker of recognition in your eyes, and a sharply inhaled breath, but that was all. You sat and listened to him tell you everything, all the while you watched him compassionately.

When he was done, glassy-eyed and emotionally exhausted, he looked up at you with big pleading eyes. “Will you help me?”

“Yes, Bucky. I’ll help you.”

He didn’t know why you decided to help him. He had told you he couldn’t pay you, at least not yet anyway. But you had agreed to help him anyway and he would be eternally thankful of any help you could give. The fear of you reporting him to the authorities was still there, stronger than ever when you sent him away and asked him to come back a few days later. You had needed to clear some time for him where he could be safe and undiscovered.

He had done as you asked, doing recon on your building in the time beforehand. Watching your clients come and go, some half-hourly, some hourly. He knew you were some kind of sex worker but that wasn’t what you had offered him. You had offered him hope.

The first session he had with you was just talking. You asked him questions and he tried to answer them honestly. You had sat by him, close enough to touch him but you hadn’t. You asked about the words, what they were and how they felt. You were not surprised that they were in Russian. You made notes, promising to burn them once your task was done.

You had learned those words over time, their meaning and their pronunciation. You called him Bucky, instead of The Asset or Soldat. Your touch was kind when he allowed it. Soon he began to crave it, if not for its gentleness then for its intimacy.

The hypnosis took time. Your voice was soft and warm. You felt safe to him, and soon, you began to feel like home. The more you progressed, the more willing he became, allowing you to delve deeper and create a warm spot in his cold mind. To give him comfort from the horrors that plagued him. Of course, they never fully went away. He would carry them with him always.

Bucky came to love the sound of your voice and the way you made him feel. Subconsciously relaxing when you spoke, feelings of care and support rising up above all else but no matter how hard you tried, the words still made him a monster. He would sink back into the darkness when the words claimed him, ready to comply.

+++

“I don’t know what else to try,” you sighed, sipping your coffee as you warmed your hands on the hot ceramic. Your feet were resting in his lap as he massaged them through your fluffy socks.

Bucky had been staying at your loft for several weeks now. It had been safer for him and more convenient for you to keep an eye on him. Some of the hypnosis you had done with him really took a toll on him and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were growing a soft spot for the man who no longer wanted to be The Winter Soldier.

“I feel good.” He said with a subtle smile. “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay you for, but I understand, it was a long shot anyway. I’ll just have to make sure they don’t find me again.”

“There is still something, I can try,” you hesitated, “but I don’t think it’s something that you’d want.”

“I’m willing to try anything.”

“You might regret saying that.” You chuckled dryly.

When you explained that you could repurpose the words, he looked at you blankly. They were rooted so deep in his mind by the torment he had gone through that they could possibly always be with him, but they didn’t have to have the same effect. That complete loss of control caused by the painful torture and conditioning could be changed. The foundations were already there in his mind, all you would have to do would be to recondition him.

“So, you’re saying that I won’t be a slave anymore? I won’t have to kill people? I won’t lose control?”

“No, I’m saying that your loss of control can be redirected. I’m saying you can be reconditioned for another purpose.”

Bucky looked at you so fearfully that you regretted bringing this up at all.

“What purpose?”

“Some other relinquishment of control, perhaps. You would have to be willing to let it happen or it won’t take.”

“Would you have to torture me?”

“God, no!” You sat forward, shifting your feet from his lap and taking his hands in yours. “Pleasure over pain any day of the week, Bucky. I would want you to feel good no matter what.”

“So you could reprogram me to feel pleasure instead?”

“I could try.”

The moment he took to process your offer was fleeting. His eyes snapped to yours, resolute.

“I’ll do it.”

+++

The journey had been long. Months of conditioning him in your rooms. He had asked for blue lights instead of red; red reminded him of his past. The trust he put in you was unequivocal. He was no less than flawless.

Given his history, his willingness to submit to you was astounding. You worked hard to build a strong bond with him, never once straying from the agreement you had both set out, never once taking something for yourself, no matter how much you wanted to. Bucky was perfect, but he was anything but yours. You had to remind yourself of that when he called you by your chosen title, and in the throes of pleasure moaned so perfectly for you. Goddess.

You had made him climax many times before, edging him and reinforcing the pleasurable association between sensations throughout his body and the words. It had taken months of work, almost daily sessions. In addition to your regular clients, your work with Bucky ate into your free time but you didn’t care. Being with him this way was the most rewarding thing you have ever done. The way he mewled with pleasure when you touched him, the way his skin on his neck and chest flushed hot and red when he was about to orgasm. He still seemed innocent because you had never fucked him. You couldn’t. That wasn’t what he needed or wanted so you couldn’t and wouldn’t project that on to him.

Over time you had managed to repurpose all but his final trigger word, instead of relieving him of his free will, the words now built pleasure, anticipation. All but that last one. Ironic that the Russian word for freight car should thwart you when your goal was to make him come like a freight train.

This final word had eluded capture no matter how many times you made him orgasm whilst chanting it. And when you strung all the words together, that final one was always the crux. The words ya gotov otvichet would fall from his lips and he would await your orders, perfectly docile and emotionless.

You thought you had it this time though.

Bucky lay completely naked on your table, his muscles hard, his cock still soft. The deep blue lights in the room made you feel trippy, slightly dizzy even. It was disconcerting but you endured it for him.

Under your instruction, he tested the heavy-duty cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles. Bucky had insisted on them, installing them himself, before the very first attempt you made with his first word. They had never been needed but Bucky wouldn’t not hear any protests that they weren’t necessary. He needed this security, so you had bound him.

At your request, he gave you his safe word. A word he had chosen for himself. The only one he could choose for himself since the others were chosen for him. Hotdog.

You tapped into your alter-ego headspace without fully submerging yourself. This wasn’t roleplay, it was far more delicate and treacherous than that. Bucky’s mind could hang in the balance if this all went wrong. It was something you had wrestled with early on, whether it was morally right to do this, but he was low on options and you had wanted to help him if you could, so you quashed any qualms you had and concentrated on moving forward.

“Are you ready to begin?” Your voice was kind but firm.

Bucky nodded and mumbled “yes Goddess” as he closed his eyes and waited for you to begin.

Your chest bloomed with pride. He was so good, so patient, so trusting. “Good.”

Bucky took a deep breath in through his nose and out through quivering lips, readying himself as best he could.

“Zhelaniye.”

Breath quickening, bucky sighed heavily. The feeling of desire took hold, and he longed for release. His cock twitched as blood flowed into it, making it hard, laying solid and heavy against his abdomen.

“Rzhaviy.”

He stirred, eyes flickering behind closed lids as the muscles in his stomach clenched, his hips lifting slightly from the padded surface of the table. His cock twitched vertical, swelling more before dropping back against his stomach.

“Semnadsat.”

He moaned. Breath caught in his throat. Teeth catching his full lower lip and biting down. You hoped he wouldn’t be so far gone that he drew blood so when he released his lip, licking afterwards, you were relieved.

“Rassviyet.”

A gasp. A sigh. They punctuated his thrusting hips as he sought friction against his erection. You longed to touch him, to give him what he needed but that would defeat the object. He needed to do this without being touched, with only the words to guide him on the journey you had spent months preparing him for.

“Pech.”

Bucky groaned heavily, his chest heaving as he panted against his growing pleasure. A pearl of precum beaded on his tip, growing in size until it dripped off onto the skin of his stomach. When his cock twitched it created a gossamer string of silken liquid in the gap underneath his risen cock. You licked your lips, watching him come undone.

“Devyat.”

He fairly cried out as soon as the word had left your lips, hands clenched into fists, teeth bared slightly. The skin on his neck began to flush deep pink and you knew he was starting to get close.

“Dobroserdechniy.”

A held breath escaped him as a drawn out moan that had heat pooling between your legs. The sounds of him were enough to soak your panties, want and desire clamouring in your chest. Bucky thrust his hip up repeatedly, fucking into the air as his cock throbbed relentlessly.

“Vozvrashcheniy na rodinu.”

Whimpering now, tears formed under his closed lashes, trickling forth from the corners of his eyes down into the hair above his ears. His chest was wracked with panting gasps, and the skin there flushed an angry red. He was just about there, right on the edge.

“Odin.”

All muscles taut, from his clenched jaw and straining neck right the way down to his arched feet and curled toes, Bucky clung on to the edge of oblivion. The glistening tip of his cock was so engorged it looked bruised, an angry purple-red that strained against the skin. He twitched violently, balls tightening, fluid leaking from his tip.

“Gruzovoy vagon.”

Bucky’s breathy cry echoed around the room like a chorus of angels. His release almost explosive as he spilled over himself in waves, pumping jizm out over his chest and stomach. He thrashed on the table, hips jutting up, back arched in unadulterated pleasure.

His grunts became whimpers and his throbbing cock slowed. You rushed forward an whispered his name, laying your hand gently on his sternum to let him know you were there. His eyes cracked open briefly and he licked at his reddened lips, gasping as he came back to himself.

You increased the lights so you could release him, rubbing his wrists and ankles to make sure the blood flow was good with a few pinched toes and fingertips. You wiped him down with a warm flannel cloth and took his hand to get him to sit. He went with you easily, still in a daze.

“Bucky?” You whispered and he shivered. You hoped beyond hope that he was alright. He hadn’t said the words yet but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

You wrapped him in a red plaid fleece blanket you kept just in case and stepped between his open knees, pulling the blanket closed around him. His breathing was still laboured and he looked thoroughly wrecked.

“Bucky, talk to me.”

His mouth started to turn upwards into a smile but didn’t make it that far before the dam broke and his mouth twisted. Relieved sobs and a river of tears flowed from him as the realisation set in. You had spoken his words and he was still there, in the light. The darkness hadn’t claimed him this time. He was free. Free of the pain. Free of the fear. Free of him.

“You’re ok. You’re ok.” You reassured him as he broke down in front of you. “I’m here.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he wept, sobbing and sniffling against your hair and skin. When his arms tightened around you and held you closer, you couldn’t help but grin. It had worked. It had finally worked.

Cuddled against you, for what felt like an hour, Bucky finally settled. He lifted his head to look at you through bloodshot eyes. His lips were raw and swollen too but there was peace there under the evidence of his emotional experience. You stroked his hair back and looked up into his eyes. He hadn’t said a word since you had begun and you needed to know he was alright.

“Talk to me, Bucky.” You whispered, hands cupping his face gently. “I need your words.”

He blushed slightly, looking down coyly before meeting your gaze firmly. “Thank you, Goddess.”

The barked laugh that escaped you was full of delight. After all of that, he still managed to make your proud. “You had me worried.” You let out a relieved breath. “I’m going to get you some water, but I’ll be right back, okay? Is there anything else you want or need?”

“There is one thing, Goddess.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you, Goddess?”

Your heart jolted in your chest. This was something you had wanted for quite some time but had been unable to cross that line. Now that Bucky was asking, could you really deny him this one thing? Normally you wouldn’t kiss clients, rarely would you have sex with them either unless it was a part of their experience.

“You would like to kiss me? Is that right, Bucky?” That was exactly what he had asked for and the distinction was important. He wanted to kiss you, not he wanted you to kiss him.

“Very much so, Goddess, yes.”

You searched his face looking for any sign that there might be something wrong but all you could see was adoration and bliss behind the puffiness of his eyes and mouth.

“You’re going to drink some water first.” You said, cupping his face in your hands once more. “And if you want to kiss me when you’re done then, yes, you may.”

Bucky grinned brightly, a flash of brilliance before his face relaxed again. He took the cup of water and downed it without hesitation, handing the paper cup back to you with a shaking hand.

When his eyes met yours you froze. Bucky had submitted to you willingly but it wasn’t his natural state. The glint in his eye as he reached out to pull you forward between his spread legs once more, was intoxicating.

He stroked his fingertips across your cheek, sliding them into the hair behind your ear, his metal hand rested on your waist. “Is this okay?” He asked in a whisper. Your preferred title forgotten in the moment but you didn’t mind, not for this.

“Yes.” Breathy and needy.

Bucky leaned in slowly, allowing you time to stop him if you needed to. When his lips met yours it was in the lightest touch. He grazed his lips back and forth, coaxing yours apart slightly before sealing the kiss gently. There was no tongue, no teeth, just a sweet pressing of his mouth to yours as he held you there for a while, savouring you.

When he parted from you, a sigh left your lips and he grinned. Resting his forehead on yours he held you as he had before, stroking his thumb where your cheek met your ear.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while but I didn’t think you would let me.” He confessed.

You chuckled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while but didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“Can I do it again, Goddess?”

“Yes, Bucky, you may.”

He claimed your mouth in a sensual kiss, mouths open, his tongue licking into you like you were a delicacy to be savoured. Bucky slowly devoured you and it felt amazing. You closed your eyes to the world and sunk into the feeling of his lips on yours, his taste mixing with yours. This thing between you was evolving into something new. What it would be, you had no idea but that in itself was exciting. Who would have thought that meeting the world’s most wanted assassin would prove to be the most fulfilling experience of your life. Things were still dangerous for him, for both of you, but from this moment forward you were both in it together. You and Bucky against the world.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes sub #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes needs a hug #bucky barnes recovering #sub!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #Winter Soldier #bucky smut #bucky needs help #cloudy's writing

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beefromanoff · 10 months

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hi @random00000sblog I love you and I hope you have ample caffeine after your all-nighter <3

#the biggest compliment to any writer ever #is seeing that my work is all nighter worthy #I will never recover #ily #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff

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mrsbarnesblog · 11 months

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Push him

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader

Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️

The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.

The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.

He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.

One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.

You knew that it was your lucky ticket.

He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.

In short, it was perfect.

You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.

It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.

Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.

“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”

“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.

“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.

When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.

He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.

You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.

Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.

Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.

When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.

“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.

“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.

“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.

“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”

“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”

“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.

“I do not like her.”

“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.

“Sam...” Steve said.

“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.

“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”

You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.

Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?

The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.

To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.

Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”

It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.

You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.

You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.

“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.

“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.

Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”

“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.

“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”

“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”

You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.

“And what should I do?”

“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.

“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”

“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”

The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.

“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.

Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...

“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.

You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.

“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.

“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.

“Can I do something to change it?”

“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”

“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”

“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.

“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.

Push him a little bit. He’ll break.

You tried to hold back a smirk.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.

You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.

“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.

“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.

“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.

Maybe the girls were right.

After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.

It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.

Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.

It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.

You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.

You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.

“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.

Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.

“No.”

“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”

“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.

“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”

“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.

“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.

“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.

He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.

Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…

You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.

“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”

“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”

“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”

“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.

“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.

This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.

“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.

“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.

“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.

“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.

You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.

“Bucky! It was expensive.”

“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”

Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.

“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”

You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.

Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.

“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.

Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.

“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.

A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.

Bucky didn’t stop, though.

He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.

“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”

Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.

“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.

“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.

“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”

You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”

“You know, my arm and scars...”

“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.

Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.

Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.

You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.

“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”

“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.

“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”

His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.

Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.

“I hope so.”

Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.

You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.

“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.

It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.

Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.

He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.

“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.

“Please, Bucky, please move!”

His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.

“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”

“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.

You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.

“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.

Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”

“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.

The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.

“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.

You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.

“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.

“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.

Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.

When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.

“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.

“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”

“Bucky!”

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.

“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.

Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.

“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”

“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.

“Really?”

“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.

“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”

“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.

It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.

“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”

“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.

“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.

“Asshole.” Bucky growled.

“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.

It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

You need Bucky’s cuddles

Bucky x civilian reader

Some angst with all the fluff

You needed cuddles. It was one of those days. Nothing was particularly wrong, you just needed to be held. Specifically by a certain super soldier. Bucky had been away on missions for the past 2 months, only staying home for a few days in between to recover before he was sent off again, leaving you alone in the large compound. Tony had been more than welcoming, happy to let you live with Bucky where you'd be safest.

You'd waited all day for him to get home so you could jump into his arms and snuggle up against his chest, desperate for his warmth. The low rumble of the jet had you running off to the hangar, your feet moving faster than you could comprehend as soon as the doors opened.

"Hi sweetheart" Bucky's voice was muffled as he kissed the top of your head, catching you with ease, chuckling at the way you practically crawled up him, your legs wrapping around his waist. "My pretty girl"

"Missed you" You kept your face tucked against his neck, breathing in his scent, sighing in relief at the fact that he had no injures. You wanted nothing more than to drag Bucky up to your shared bedroom and slip under the covers for some desperate cuddle time, but instead you found yourself being set back down on your feet.

"Missed you too sweets butI gotta finish up some stuff with Steve and I'll see you soon okay?"

Your reunion was short lived as he jogged off behind the captain, both men disappearing around the corner seconds later, leaving you alone again. Your heart sunk as you made your way back inside, shaking off the uneasiness you felt.

Cuddles. You just wanted some cuddles.

But his job was to save lives, keep the world safe and you were just a civilian. Nothing you did compared the the danger he put himself through on a daily basis, you had no right to burden him by being clingy and annoying, no matter how much you missed him.

You decided to busy yourself by making a snack for the both of you, placing his share on a plate for when his was finished while you ate at the kitchen island. You didn't want to bother Bucky by being overly clingy, glancing at the clock every so often, hoping he'd come down soon. You made your way up to see if Bucky wanted to eat anything, stopping when the sound of booming laughter coming from the conference room caught you off guard.

"Bucky?" You stopped by the conference room where the Sharon, Sam, Steve and Bucky sat, papers scattered across the table though it didn't seem like they were particularly busy, all washed and changed into comfy clothes.

"Hey doll, be done in a bit" Bucky smiled while the others greeted you, going back to looking over their mission report.

"Just wondered if you were hungry" You placed a sandwich and some cookies in front of him, hoping he'd take a break and hang out with you for a bit but instead he thanked you with a kiss to your hand.

You left the group to their task, putting on a movie n your bedroom to pass the time, still glancing over at the clock as minutes had turned into an hour.

Then two.

You found yourself holding onto his pillow, your throat oddly tight as if you were fighting against your body's attempt to release all your pent up emotions.

You needed your boyfriend.

You weren't sure why. You missed him so much and the gnawing anxiety you had been feeling all day kept growing with each second he wasn't there to make you feel better.

You felt awful because you had no reason to feel this way yet it only seemed to get worse. Around dinner time, you didn't bother going down, dragging yourself out of bed to change into your pjs and trudging down the hall in hopes that the team would be wrapping up.

It wasn't uncommon for post mission meetings to take a full today but surely they could excuse Bucky from this one at least for a little while. The scent of take out carried down the hall making you stomach rumble sending your emotions tumbling down further. You hesitantly stepped into the room where they were still gathered.

"Will you come to bed soon?" You asked hopefully, shuffling on your feet while Bucky set down the papers he was skimming over. Steve and Sam looked over at you with apologetic smiles while Sharon walked over with a tray of coffee cups.

"I'm a little busy y/n, I'll come up soon, alright?" Bucky glanced over his shoulder to where you stood with your soft pjs and fluffy slippers, not catching the way your face fell as he grabbed a mug and hummed, "we still have to go over a bit more of today's footage, give me about an hour"

"You'll come in an hour?" Your bottom lip jutted out slightly, unable to control the tiny pout that made its way to your face.

"Promise love, an hour and not a minute longer, wait up for me okay?"

"Alright" You kissed his cheek before bidding the rest of them good night, ignoring the way your chest felt tight, not having the guts to tell your boyfriend that you needed him right then and there. You curled up under the sheets, tossing and turning, the bed feeling entirely too empty when you knew he was home, the faint light of the clock staring at you in the face.

You waited and waited, the lonely feeling settling deeper in the pit of your stomach as one hour turned into two. You could hear the sound of laugher from the conference room again as more time passed.

He wasn't coming.

****

Bucky hadn't noticed the time as he chuckled over a video of Sam falling out of the air, snorting each time Sharon replayed it. As soon as the mission was over, he wanted nothing more than to spend the day with you but he figured it would be best to get the mission reports out of the way first. Nothing made him happier than being home, especially when the first thing he saw was your happy face.

He munched on a fortuned cookie, scribbling down his signature on the last few sheets of paper, getting up and stretching before glancing over at the clock, his eyes growing wide when he saw the time.

Shit.

****

Hot tears started to trickles across the side of your face and onto the pillow, no longer contained by your rapid blinking. You froze at the sound of the door creaking open, the faint light from the hall pouring into the room making you bury yourself into the sheets further.

"Doll?" Bucky quietly shut the door behind him, his heart sinking at the sight of the little ball wrapped up under a heap of blankets, the sound of your muffled sniffles breaking his heart further.

"Oh angel" He strode over, slipping under the covers to wrap his arm around you, your tear stained face stayed pressed against the pillow, your arms wrapped around yourself with how badly you wanted to be held. "What's wrong love"

"M-missed you. Just wanted cuddles" Your voice came out a strained whimper, melting into a sob when he pulled you into his chest, stroking up and down your back. "Missed you so much"

"M'sorry love, I'm so so sorry" Bucky cooed, feeling more guilty and awful than ever for neglecting you and not paying attention to the time, squeezing you to his body as if you'd disappear if he let go. "M'here babygirl"

"I didn't want to bother you" You hiccupped while Bucky hushed you, shaking his head, blinking back is own tears as he kissed your dampened cheeks, before cradling your head to his chest again, the steady beat of his heart calming you down.

"Never, you'd never bother me angel, you're my priority, you always come first" Bucky's voice grew shaky, the realization of how much he missed you as well hitting him all at once, feeling the soft warmth of your body against his, the scent of your shampoo, the feeling of being home. "You deserve all the cuddles my sweet little bunny, all the cuddles in the world"

You whimpered while Bucky slipped his hoodie off, letting you rest against his bare skin, holding you securely. He frowned at the sound of your tummy rumbling, pulling away making you whine, his fingers tilting your chin to meet his eyes.

"Did you eat dinner baby?"

"I was waiting for you" You whispered while Bucky internally smacked himself, he had half a mind of letting Steve use him for training instead of their industrial punching bag. The blonde would certain be on board if he found out.

"Come here my love, let me make you dinner" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, carrying you down to the kitchen where he set you onto the counters before quickly putting together his ma's pasta recipe, one of the few meals you'd live off of. He plated a bowl and taking you right back upstairs where he fed you while keeping you tucked in his lap, kissing you between giving you bites.

"Promise you'll drag me out by the ear next time baby, I'd drop everything in a heart beat for you" Bucky cupped your face in his hands after you'd finished eating, still feeling immensely guilty, especially when you asked for so little. " Especially when you want cuddles?"

"You'll cuddle me any time?" you asked curiously while he chuckled, pulling the sheets to cover you both, once again hugging you close to his body, this time the both of you shirtless, bare skin pressed against each other.

"Any time love. Could be in the middle of a mission, I'll find us an secret place to snuggle"

"Any time?"

He turned off the alarm that was already set to wake him up for training, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"Any time"

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littleredwolf · 6 months

Text

Hungry Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: The team overhears Nat and Y/N's 'girl talk' through the comms and feelings surface as a result.

Warnings: Suggestive content. Sex references.

Words: 956

A/N: PART 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE

“Bucky's done nothing but undress you with his eyes since you walked in,” Natasha's husky voice came over your earpiece and your eyes snapped to the super soldier on the other side of the room, your cheeks reddening to find him already staring in your direction.

You let your gaze casually pass over him, playing the brief moment of eye contact off as a coincidence as you scanned the room for the mission, but your heart was pounding and you were sure he could probably hear it.

“Doubtful,” you scoffed, though you couldn't ignore the tingle that travelled up your spine at the thought of Bucky finding you attractive. You'd had the hots for him for months, but your fear of rejection strongly outweighed your desire to tell him so you'd kept your little secret to yourself…and Nat of course.

“Stop living in denial, anybody with half a brain can see how he practically drools over you every time he sees you,” Nat argued, and you rolled your eyes as you continued to survey the room. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s true.”

“Stop watching me, you know it creeps me out when I can’t see you,” you hissed, eyes roaming the crowd in an attempt to spot the redhead.

“If you could see me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job,” she teased, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes again.

“Just hurry up and do your job, Romanoff - the quicker we finish and I can get out of this dress the better,” you stated, readjusting the silky garment that Natasha herself had picked out for you. It suited your cover well, but it was a little provocative for your usual tastes.

“I’m sure Barnes would agree with you on that one…”

“As much as I’m enjoying watching Bucky squirm from this conversation, head’s up that this is an open channel,” Sam’s voice cutting in over the comms caused any reply you had prepared for Natasha to die on your tongue, the blood draining from your face as you turned to look at Bucky.

The super soldier was no longer on his mark, but as you searched the crowd you caught a glimpse of him as he was making a swift exit. More than anything you wanted to follow him, to defuse the awkwardness and recover from the embarrassment of him overhearing Nat’s comments, but you stayed rooted to the spot, unable to leave your position.

“Go,” Nat urged, as though sensing your inner turmoil. “Me and Sam have got this.”

A quick look towards Sam confirmed that he agreed, and you wasted no time in hurrying towards the same door Bucky had gone through moments ago.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t gone very far, and you found him leaning against the wall in the foyer. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes landed on you, and you smiled sheepishly as you approached.

“Hey Buck,” you softly said as you reached him. “Sorry about what you heard back there - Nat was just teasing, she didn’t mean any of it.”

“Didn’t she?” He asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“What?” You frowned, unsure how to interpret his response. There was a way you wanted this to go, but you didn’t want to get your wires crossed and make even more of a fool of yourself.

“You said she didn’t mean any of it, but how can you be sure?”

He pushed himself off the wall and fixed you with an intense gaze, making your knees weak and your breath short. You didn’t dare look away - afraid that if you did, this moment would end.

“I-uh…I don’t know what you’re getting at here, Buck…” you stammered, too dumbfounded to form a better response. You were very aware of how close the two of you were and the smell of his cologne and warmth emanating from his body was making your brain short circuit.

“Then let me show you.”

There was no hesitation as he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, and you melted into him with a whimper. The sound gave him the encouragement he was looking for and he spun you round so that he could press you up against the wall, moaning into your mouth as you raked your hands through his hair.

Everything around you ceased to exist and all sense left you as you gave into your desires, the feeling of Bucky’s hands roaming your body setting your skin on fire. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d never even let yourself hope that Bucky might actually feel the same, yet here you were, making out with him while his sizable bulge pressed up against you.

Had Sam not cleared his throat over the comms, you were sure you’d have let the super soldier take you right there and then, regardless of the fact that you were in public and on a mission.

“Channel is still very much open, guys,” he informed, and Bucky’s eyes widened in horror as he pulled away. You giggled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m not even sorry,” you told Sam teasingly, straightening up and readjusting your dress. You were aware of Bucky’s eyes on you and you looked up to meet his hungry gaze.

“I can’t wait to get that thing off you when we’re finished here,” he blurted, and you bit your lip as heat flooded your core.

“Then we’d better hurry up and finish,” you replied, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the main room so that you could get the mission, and later on your clothes, out of the way.

PART 2

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x female character #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x y/n #reader insert

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jobean12-blog · 7 months

Text

Claimed

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)-Bookshop setting

Word Count: 3,513

Summary: Bucky has had his eyes on you for a long time and when he finally makes a move to claim you he's delighted at how easily you fall into his waiting arms.

Author's Note: Seb's new looks have just been so yummy, especially him in a bow tie. I LOVE! The look in the pic below is the end result of the story🫠It isn't really focused too much on his mob status but it's there and I couldn't resist a little bookshop AU in there too! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, tension, Bucky is pretty forward/dom and doesn't mince words- he goes for what he wants-light d-irty talk, fing-er-ing, o-ral (f rec), but he's sweet too :)

Your steps are slow and easy as you stroll through the aisle, perusing the titles and letting your fingers delicately slide across the bindings.

When you find one of interest you pull it from the shelf and before you read even one word you press the aged pages to your nose and inhale deeply.

The sound of a light chuckle pulls you from your aromatic reverie and you look up with a start, catching a man watching you with a lopsided smirk.

He nods a hello before disappearing down the next aisle. You stare at the space he just vacated and feel your skin heat.

Was he really that handsome or are you still recovering from the exquisite smell of the pages of the book? Only one way to find out.

With quiet movements you slip past the end of the fiction section and turn the corner, peeking around the next bookshelf. All you see is a young woman searching through the books.

Denying your disappointment you continue down the aisle but slow when you feel the weight of eyes at your back. Instead of turning around and looking too obvious you quickly glance over your shoulder and see the mystery man once again watching you.

He looks even more handsome than he did two minutes ago.

You almost walk into the woman who’s browsing and give her a startled apology before rushing off to hide in the rare book section.

Letting out a rush of breath you clutch a book to your chest and refocus on your surroundings.

“This is my favorite section.”

You spin on a gasp and blink.

“Excuse me?” you say quietly.

“This section,” he says again, “it’s my favorite. I love old books.”

“Oh,” you answer, backing away as he steps closer.

He stops advancing and looks at the shelf, studying the bindings until he finds one that interests him.

“Mine too,” you concede softly. “And they smell amazing.”

“As good as the books in the fiction section?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement.

You let out a light huff of laughter, feeling warm embarrassment creep over your skin.

“Better,” you finally answer.

“I’d have to agree with you there,” he says before lifting the book he holds to his face and inhaling.

You can’t stop your small intake of air as you watch him savor the smell of the pages.

“So, do you come here often?” he asks, casting his gaze down to the words.

You let his question hang in the air as you take a moment to really look him over. His soft sweater does nothing to hide his broad shoulders and powerful build and his dark hair and beard frame a beautifully sculpted jaw.

Then he lifts his eyes, directing his steady gaze on you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Um…I do. It’s my favorite book store. I can’t afford any of these books,” you say as you motion to the titles nearby, “but no one seems to mind that I come and spend the afternoon reading them.”

“I don’t see why anyone would,” he replies.

He places the book back on the shelf and slides his hands into his pants pockets, attempting another step closer.

This time you don’t move away and he smiles.

“I have quite the collection myself,” he informs you. “You should come see it.”

“Are you a collector?” you ask.

“Something like that doll.”

You school your features at the sound of the endearment falling from his perfect lips and smile.

He extends his hand.

“James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

“Hi Bucky.”

You give him your name and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and lightly brushing his lips across your knuckles before kissing them.

As you stare at him through your lashes his lips linger and he seems unwilling to let go of your hand.

“I mean it you know. You’re welcome to come see my collection…anytime.”

He slowly releases your hand with a wink then turns on his heel toward the doorway.

“But…,” you start, not even sure why you’re calling after him to ask your next question, “how will I find you?”

He turns to face you, his eyes set with determination, and says, “don’t worry doll face. We’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

With those parting words he vanishes into the maze of books, leaving you caught between feeling frazzled and turned on.

After several days of warm sunshine it finally ends in a wash of chilly rain and wind. But you’re warm and cozy in the back of the bookshop, curled up on one of the old leather chairs by the window, reading by the soft light of an antique tiffany lamp.

You’re so engrossed in your book that it takes you several minutes to recognize the familiar feeling of his stare and when you look up you find Bucky leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his arms crossed, watching you.

He looks just as good as he did the last time you saw him and you realize you’re staring back.

“Hey,” you whisper, clearing your throat.

“You must really be enjoying that book,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I am. Have you read it?”

“Not this one,” he says as he steps closer and reads the title.

His nearness draws all of your attention from the book and for the first time you take notice of the small patches of gray hair that line his beard.

“It’s worth a read,” you tell him when your eyes meet his again.

“I’ll definitely check it out doll. I’m currently reading the first edition of ‘The Canterbury Tales’ by Geo…”

“Geoffery Chaucer,” you finish in a rushed breath. “Oh my god. You have a first edition!?”

Your eyes go wide with shock as you silently contemplate how much money that must have cost him.

“But…but…”

“I told you doll face, the old and rare books are my favorite.”

“I haven’t read that one yet but it’s on my list.”

“Well you’re welcome to my copy when I’m done,” he says, smiling widely when your mouth opens in shock. “But I have to warn you that when it comes to such treasures I’m a slow reader. There are some things I like to take my time with.”

As the last sentence leaves his mouth he unabashedly lets his eyes sweep over you. When your head dips to your book under his obvious perusal he presses his fingers under your chin to lift your gaze.

“Can I get you a coffee?”

“A coffee?” you repeat, all rational thought leaving your brain at the feel of his touch.

“They just put a fresh pot on up front.”

“Oh, right. That would be great thank you, let me just get my wallet.”

“No doll. I’ll pay.”

“Well, I don’t mind at all…”

“And I do,” he says definitively. “I offered and I’ll pay.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

When he returns with two steaming cups of coffee you sigh in contentment.

“Are you always this much of a gentleman to the women you meet in bookshops?”

You ask the question with a playful smile but when his expression doesn’t match yours you instantly regret opening your mouth, your smile wavering.

“Despite my offering, I’m having a very difficult time remembering to be a gentleman around you doll.”

“Well maybe I shouldn’t be accepting this coffee then.”

Even though your voice is little more than a whisper you make no move to give him back the drink and instead you lean in closer.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he murmurs.

Your breathing accelerates before you take a slow sip of the coffee.

“And maybe I like the coffee too much to give it back.”

“I just warned you that I’m having a difficult time being a gentleman. Are you provoking me doll?”

Your tongue darts out to trace the outline of your lips, the taste of coffee still lingering. “Is that what I’m doing?”

His eyes track the movement and he rubs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, looking pleased when you inhale sharply but don’t pull away.

“Let me be clear here doll, since it seems like you enjoy playing this little game with me. I want you underneath me in my bed. I want to be buried so deep inside you that you’ll feel me for days. And I want to mark you so every other man who walks this Earth knows you’re mine.”

Your eyes widen with every word he utters and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin when he tilts his head and moves closer until his warm breath fans your cheek.

“I just want to be up-front with you. Enjoy the coffee.”

He forces himself away, removing his hand and stepping back. And once again leaves with nothing more that the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Life keeps you busy for the next two days but Bucky’s words are ever present, practically burned into your skin. So when you step back into the bookshop on Saturday evening you take solace in the familiar smells and sounds.

You wave hello to the barista and cashier, noticing their slight mischievous smiles as you pass by. You’re about to ask them what’s going on but then you see him and you know. Even among the shelves of beautiful books and warm lighting he stands out, his eyes boring into you.

The way he stands exudes a quiet confidence and a slow roll of heat eases it’s way through you when his unwavering stare moves over every inch of you.

Lifting your chin you hold his gaze and take your time getting your own eyeful. His button-down shirt is fitted just right with the top buttons open to reveal a gold chain and his long legs are clad in dark jeans.

He looks dangerous and sexy. And pissed.

You move toward him undeterred until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Are you here to give me more warnings?” you ask.

He keeps his gaze locked on you and licks his lips.

“No. I think I was perfectly clear the first-time doll.”

“Is something bothering you, Bucky?”

“Where have you been?”

You would laugh at his nonresponse if your irritation weren’t growing hotter by the second.

“I’ve been busy. You know…work, errands…life.”

“I’ve missed you.”

You’re taken aback by his blunt and unexpected answer and can’t find the words to respond.

“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again after what I said.”

You think back on his words for only the millionth time since he said them. An involuntary shiver runs down your spine at the memory.

“Did you get me a coffee today?”

His eyes light up in victory before he reaches behind him and hands you a cup, the drink prepared just how you like it.

For the next couple of hours the two of you browse the bookshop, spending the majority of your time in the rare section pouring over the titles in excitement and awe. You ask about his work and how he gathered his collection of rare books. He’s vague but polite with his answers, focusing most of his attention on you.

While you do most of the talking Bucky listens contentedly and intently, his constant regard slowly building and burning a hole through your enthused focus.

After a bit, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything else but him and you start to become more aware of how your body shifts closer to his, shoulders pressed together, heads close and your hand reaching out to graze his bicep.

Finally, the bookshop employees begin to let customers know they are going to close. You reluctantly put your current read back on the shelf and turn to Bucky.

“Guess it’s time to go,” you say quietly.

“I’ll drive you home doll.”

“No, no. That’s ok. I can take the train.”

“I insist,” he answers, stepping into your space and crowding you against the shelf.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Thanks.”

His eyes drop to your lips and his hands hover at your waist, his fingertips just brushing the fabric of your shirt when the barista comes by and ushers you out.

With a release of breath you skirt past Bucky and grab your bag, heading for the exit.

Wordlessly, he holds the door of his car open for you, allowing you minimal space to edge by him into the passenger seat.

He breaks the silence with the same question floating around in your own head.

“Am I taking to you home or are you coming to my place to see my collection of books.”

“It’s late but…”

“But?”

“I would love to see them.”

“But you’re still thinking about what I said the other day, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

When you don’t say anything more or give him your address he drives in the opposite direction of your apartment. You contemplate your sanity the whole ride there but you’re too far gone to even want to tell him to turn around and bring you home.

His brownstone is gorgeous. Everything from the ornate edifice of the building to the classic tile in foyer exudes luxury and when you step inside the actual space you have to cover your mouth to stop any sound from escaping.

“I’m glad you like it doll,” he says from behind you, his chest brushing your back.

His lips meet the shell of your ear in a whisper. “I can give you a tour if you like or I can give you what you really want first.”

You turn to face him, his gravelly tone bringing several other things into focus. His cheeks are lightly flushed and his breathing has roughened. You sway closer and he runs his finger along your arm.

“The books…?” you question weakly.

“They’re not going anywhere,” he assures you as his fingertips trace your jaw.

“You don’t even have my phone number,” you continue. “We haven’t even been on a date yet!”

He starts to walk, pushing you slowly backward until you enter another room. Without taking his eyes off you he flicks a switch on the wall and the space is bathed in a soft glow, illuminating the ceiling high shelves of dark wood that line every wall. Every space is filled with books.

Your eyes wander for mere seconds before he grabs your chin and directs your gaze back to his.

“I think our bookshop encounters can be considered dates, don’t you?” he says softly.

Just before your back hits one of the shelves his large hand cradles your body, gently pressing you into the books. He leans closer, moving his hands to rest on either side of your head.

“Maybe…”

“Do you ever have an answer other than ‘maybe’?” he asks.

Your lips part to speak but he stops you with the brush of his mouth. “Don’t. Say. Maybe.”

Even though your last two meetings were charged with tension, this is the first time he’s really touching you and it sends shock waves through your entire body.

You breathe out a strangled ‘yes’ and arch into him, inviting more of his touch.

His mouth comes down on yours hard and hungry and the initial contact steals your breath. When you slide your hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin, he groans and pushes you against the shelf.

You break contact with his mouth, gasping at the hardness pressing against your stomach.

“I’ve been like this since the moment I saw you,” he growls. “Do you know what that’s been like?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his mouth moves to your neck and sucks the sensitive spot underneath your ear, causing you to whimper his name.

Your head rolls to the side, begging for more and you let out a sound of frustration when he rocks his hips and keeps his mouth hovering along your skin.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs with another grind of his hips.

Your fingers slide into his hair, raking through the soft strands as your breath catches on a gasp.

“Answer me, doll,” he demands.

“Yes. Yes Bucky. I want it.”

His hands leave your body and grip the edge of the shelf behind you. He dips his head, trailing kisses upward along your neck until he meets your earlobe, growling low.

“You’re going to spread these pretty legs for me doll and I’m going to bury my face between them.”

His tone warns you not to protest and with a strangled breath you do as you’re told, your head thumping back against the books when he slides his hand down your stomach.

“Eyes on me doll.”

You look down as he slips his hand inside your leggings, slowly peeling them, along with your panties down to your ankles.

He finds your swollen clit and circles it with teasing strokes, giving you one last hard look before his tongue flattens and he tastes you from top to bottom.

You’re already so close and when he pushes a finger inside you your eyes start to glaze over, your hips rocking rhythmically onto his hand and face.

When he pushes a second finger inside you it sends you over the edge, his tongue working you until your legs are shaking and you’re chanting his name.

“Fuck doll. You coming apart for me is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You start to slump forward, your breathing still ragged and he runs a soft hand along your hip, holding you steady and biting gently into your skin with his fingers.

“I’m going to make you come over and over again,” he whispers as he stands and takes you in his arms, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Yes. Please,” you whimper.

He presses closer, his lips teasing along your jaw until your eyes meet. “But first we’re going to have a proper date.”

Your lips part with your objection and you’re ready to beg him for more but he presses a finger to your lips, smiling when you instantly quiet.

“If I get inside you now I’ll never be able to leave and I don’t have enough time tonight to worship you. I have business to deal with.”

Your eyes drop to his mouth and your fingers climb up his chest.

“Ok,” you say, still breathless.

“You’re going to be my date for an auction event I have to attend tomorrow night…and then afterwards we’ll have the rest of the night. And the next morning…all day. You’ll be all mine.”

You nod, unable to find your voice again but squirm against him in desperation, your body still craving more.

“Sweet fucking hell, doll,” he hisses. “Don’t make me rush this.”

He grabs your waist so you stop moving, his eyes wandering over your face before he captures your lips in a kiss.

When he releases your mouth the set of his jaw is rigid and his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Be ready by five.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your dress for the tenth time. Before leaving Bucky’s apartment you had exchanged numbers and several more kisses then he walked you to your door, wasting no time reminding you of his promises for tonight.

Your pulse quickens as his words threaten to consume you and you wonder how you’ll ever make it through the next few hours without throwing yourself at him. His touch was like nothing else you’d experienced. Not one of his movements were wasted and his objective was clear. He was going to absolutely ruin you. And you were ready.

The light knock on your door startles you but you check the clock and see he’s right on time.

“You’re punctual,” you say as you open the door.

He looks amazing and have to bite your lip to stop your satisfied moan.

“And you’re fucking stunning,” he says as his eyes rake over every inch of you.

He continues staring and steps inside.

“Do you plan on looking at me like that all night?” you ask.

“Like what?” he replies as he reaches out for you.

“Like you need to devour me.”

“It’s all I want,” he growls, sliding his hand along the curve of your back to bring you closer.

“Do we really need to go to this auction?” you purr against his lips.

His fingers splay against your back and he brushes his nose to yours. “I do doll face, but if you need my hand between your legs first, all you have to do is ask me.”

Before you can form the words for a weak protest, his hand dips between your bodies and starts to lift the hem of your dress.

“Say it doll. I want to hear you say the words."

“Please Bucky,” you gasp. “Give me your fingers. I need your fingers.”

@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @goldylions @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imaginen #mob au #bookshop au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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littlemiss-yeehaw · 6 months

Text

You're Gonna Be Quiet

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: It's just an undercover mission, anyone could be married for one night - even you two.

Warnings: profanity, flirting, yucky old men, suggestive content (?), possessive Bucky <3

MINORS PLS DNI

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: y'all.... im not an author. im an artist, not an author, so PLS go into this with that knowledge. but I have been convinced, no, coerced into posting this little funsy by @ellemj

she threatened to withhold vacation pictures from me as if I didn't draw her bucky barnes dick earlier today and I'll be damned

anyways,, please enjoy and manage your expectations :,)

“Okay, rumor has it the target, Mr. Beaumont, has a thing for married women,” Sam says casually as he holds a ring between his thumb and forefinger, “so for this mission, you get to be Mrs. Barnes.”

He tosses the ring in your direction and you catch it with a sour expression. You slip the rock on your finger and admire it, your scowl slipping just a moment as you watch how it catches the sun. That is until you see Bucky with an equally foul look on his face. Suddenly, your frown reappears.

“Sam, I feel like there is certainly someone better suited for this than me,” you grumble as you put your hand down and look back up at him, “I mean, aren’t these undercover missions more of a Natasha thing?”

Sam rolls his eyes before turning to face you, a hand on his hip. You were in for a scolding. “Natasha has her own mission. So today, you get to be Mrs. Hart. And you,” he turns to Bucky with a smug expression, “will be Mr. Hart. Any questions? No? Good, you two lovebirds go get your outfits on.”

You turn quickly, but not quick enough to miss the death stare Bucky shoots Sam. This one seems even more lethal than his typical one.

~~~

The ride to the gala is silent. Bucky is always silent, but this silence seems more… suffocating. You fiddle with the ring on your finger before glancing over at him. “Are you planning to even look at me before we get there? I mean, we’re supposed to be a marri-”

“You’re supposed to be a woman in an unhappy marriage who's looking to fuck a billionaire,” he says bluntly, not even turning towards you, “I’m just making sure that you look plenty unhappy.”

He would never admit out loud that the real reason he won’t spare you a second glance is because the first glimpse of you dolled up sent almost all the blood in his rational mind straight to his cock. He needs to preserve what little sense he has left.

~~~

You get out of the car with a huff. Just as Bucky intended, you look unhappy and thoroughly irritated. You pull the hem of your little black dress down in an attempt to recover some of your dignity, but all Bucky notices is how the little tug causes your breasts to be even more apparent. Yep, there went the rest of the blood.

He sighs and grabs your hand before plastering a fake smile onto his lips. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You sigh and forget anymore yanking on your dress, looking up at him with a grim expression. “Let's,” you mutter under your breath before letting him lead you into the gala.

As expected, the event is extravagant and no doubt costly. You feel out of place, and you can’t help the way you move a little further into your ‘husband’s side. You let a breath of air past your lips as you look around the room for your target. Nowhere to be seen, you nearly move further into the room before Bucky squeezes your hand gently and nods to his left. You’re quick to ignore the flutter of butterflies that his touch sends shooting through you and casually look where he’s pointed. Surely enough, at the bar, sits a piggish man nursing a flute of champagne. Your eyes find Buckys and you shoot him a look before you drop his hand and make your way over.

You take a seat a few bar stools down from the man, making sure to fail at getting the bartender's attention. “Sir? Sir, could I-” You drop your hand with a sigh, feigning a disheartened expression.

“Sir, this lady would like a drink,” like a mouse in a trap, Mr. Beaumont waves him down for you and orders you a drink, “you look like you’d drink something fruity, a little thing like you. Maybe a sex on the beach?”

You wish you’d missed the way his lips pulled up in a foul grin and the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and you really wish you hadn’t seen his greedy eyes rake over your body. Nonetheless, a soft laugh and a bat of your lashes grace him instead of the scowl that wants to pull at your lips.

“I’ve never had one before,” you say with a saccharine smile, “maybe we could share.”

You notice how his eyes nearly bug out of his head and then slowly trail to your hand. He slides his fingers, not dissimilar to link sausages, down to your left hand where he trails a thumb over your ring. “Are you sure your husband wouldn’t mind,” he asks with that same vile grin, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“Not particularly, but I’m sure I don’t care,” you whisper teasingly, leaning forward and showing off your tits that practically beg to fall from your dress. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you think as the man runs a heavy hand up the side of your leg and his eyes trail down your neck to your cleavage.

Trembling anger washes over Bucky as he watches the man practically feel you up in the middle of the bar. The beads of perspiration running down the target's neck and the way he keeps nervously licking his lips give Bucky all the indication he needs to know this man thinks you’re his. Then Bucky turns to look at you. You. You’re just letting the man have his way, no, you’re encouraging it. Yes, it’s the mission. And, no, Bucky has no reason to feel such vile hatred for the target in any sense other than the professional one. But for some reason, he finds himself wanting to dismember any part of the man that graces your body where he hasn’t yet.

Yet?

Yet.

~~~

“Who’s this, darling?”

You bristle as you feel a breath of air pass your ear before the deep timbre of Bucky's voice even registers in your mind. You whip around to look at him, an expression of anger and bewilderment replacing the flirtatious grin you were just donning. You look back to the target, trying to mask your surprise.

“Honey,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, “I didn’t even see you come over.”

You pull your hands from the target's grasp, nearly cringing at the moist feeling left behind on your skin. You feel Bucky’s firm hold replace Mr. Beaumont’s slimy touch, and your body reacts all too positively. You lean back hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel his chest rigid against you. Was he standing too close or were you too eager? There was no way to be sure, but one thing you could be sure of was the fact that neither of you shied from the contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, a disapproving air oozing from the short sound, “when you never brought our drinks over, I got curious as to where you’d disappeared to.”

His eyes shift from the side of your face to the man across from you, who grows increasingly uneasy at the sight of your tall and broad ‘husband’. Bucky leans down close, so close that his lips brush against the curve of your ear and you hope he can’t hear your blood rushing in your head.

“I’ll ask again, who is this?”

You’re not sure if it's what he says, or the way he says it, but his words send a wave of arousal through your body. Suddenly, the too-tiny dress feels too hot and you’ve nearly forgotten his question. That is until he quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head expectantly. You clear your throat and look back to a flustered target, presumably intimidated by your colleague.

“This,” you reply before turning back to the sweaty man, “is Mr. Beaumont. He owns a software company and..”

You turn to the target, a ditsy smile on your lips as you try to recover your role, “what else did you do? I forget.”

He laughs nervously, shifting on his bar stool to make himself appear taller. Still pitiful in comparison to the man currently staring daggers at him over your shoulder. “I develop software and coding for various companies and organizations to use where they deem fit.”

Another low hum sounds from Bucky’s throat as he lifts his head from your ear, he meets Mr. Beaumont's eyes and sighs.

“Very impressive, Mr. B,” he says condescendingly. You frown, peeking over at him. What is he doing? This was not a part of the plan, “so you must be a smart man?”

The man in question smiles smugly and nods. “I’d think so, yes.”

“Well then, pray tell, why have you been feeling up my wife,” he asks coolly, Bucky’s turn to look smug. You, on the other hand, whip around to stare at him with an irate expression. He looks down at you with a matching frown, hardly able to mask his irritation, “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle you later.”

You’d like to think you were subtle in your shock, in the way his words leave you flustered. You had no idea Bucky could smell the wave of arousal that flooded your panties, or that he could hear the beat of your heart like a snare drum. Neither of you even noticed the target’s pitiful stuttering, too caught up in the most sexually charged staring contest ever.

~~~

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hiss quietly, walking ahead of him to the car with steam practically flooding out of your ears, “I mean, what the actual fuck!”

You don’t wait for him to catch up before you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t care for appearances, your mission having been sabotaged by your own partner. What appearances did you have left to keep up?

He gets into the driver's seat a few moments later, pulling his gloves off with a sigh before running his flesh hand over his face.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you snap, turning to face him, “I’m not. You have the audacity to call me reckless, but you go and pull a stunt like that? I had it under control.” Your cheeks are red with irritation and your hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, but he’s too caught up with thinking what else would have you looking so flushed.

“If you’d just shut up and listen-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I was getting the intel,” you’re practically ranting now, “and you just had to swoop in. And for what? To be all macho? To fluster me?”

The scowl on his lips that once matched yours turns into a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at him. Why are you looking at his lips? And why can’t you pull your gaze away from them? “What? What now,” you ask with a huff.

“You really need to learn when to stop talking,” he mutters, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he tries to wipe the smug smile from his face, “y’know that?”

You’re startled by his words, the flush on your cheeks no longer caused by his irritating actions but by his shocking words. Your eyes travel over him shamelessly, ready to jeopardize everything just to get rid of the tension that has lingered and grown exponentially over the course of the evening.

“Then why don’t you shut me up,” you ask softly, your tone opposite to the defiant one you’d held only moments ago. Judging by the minuscule way his eyes widen and the way his lips part around a sharp inhale, you’d be safe to guess he’d beat you to the idea.

You aren’t sure who moved forward first, or even if you’d moved at all. All you can be sure of is the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you like he’d never have the privilege again.

Your lips move feverishly against his own, the car filled with quiet pants and sloppy smacking. His hands tangle in your hair and he tugs you away from him, his expression turning stern when you whine petulantly. “Did you know you were a fucking brat tonight,” he asks lowly, his stare hard. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“I was not,” you rebut, your brows furrowing and your lips turning down in a pout. He didn’t like that.

“You were,” he chides coolly, releasing his grip on your hair and sighing, “especially after we walked back to the car. You never even let me explain why I stopped you.”

You would like to focus on his words, but you’re too worried about the way his metal fingers nimbly undo the buckle of his belt. Silence sweeps over the car, the only sound being your shaky breath and the clank of metal on metal.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he continues, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Quietly.” You’re salivating as he tugs the zipper of his dress pants down, allowing the tent in his boxers some much-needed reprieve. “You know why you’re gonna be quiet?”

“Why,” you ask in a breathless whisper, only just now meeting his eyes again.

“Because your mouth is gonna be full."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #reader insert #smut

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softevnstan · 2 years

Text

³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 - PART II.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. you guys responded really well for part one so i wanted to work on part two. no beta, we die like men. i have no fully formed plan with this so i apologize if i got anyone's hopes up. see part one here (make sure you read that first, otherwise, parts of this won't make sense). i also hate using 'y/n', but i don't know how not to, so i heavily recommend the 'InteractiveFics' chrome extension - it'll automatically correct 'Y/N' to the name of your choosing (and can replace other terms)

w.c. 3.6k

tags. depression mention, suicide mention, ptsd mention, therapy, recovering!bucky barnes, patient x therapist (as a whole for the series), not 100% accurate therapy - based on my own perspective and experiences.

‘What am I doing here?’ Bucky's mind played like a broken record, brain scouring for any reason to excuse himself from this appointment altogether.

Was it too late to slip out of the room? Surely not - the secretary was one of the four people (including himself) that sat in the same gray room, and she didn't seem to be paying too much mind hunched over her desk in a seek-and-find book.

The waiting room was dark - lacking any real windows in the area given it was part of a larger building that housed the offices. Bucky had taken the stairs up to the second floor after stepping into the building and searched the stretched hall for your office number and silver nameplate on the walls. Upon finally finding it, Bucky couldn't help but see it as a blessing and a curse. No more wandering aimlessly with the inkling of tension that'd begun to grow with the anxiety of someone approaching him to potentially redirect him. But it also meant he was now another excuse short for skipping this referral appointment entirely.

When stepping in, the atmosphere wasn't near as comforting as he'd been hoping. The space was dark and dimly lit by the glow of orange lamps; chairs sat neatly along the wall with a coffee table, scattered with magazines that had been flipped through countlessly since they'd been there. There was a rounded desk to the left of entering the room where an older woman sat, glasses sitting on the end of her nose and the signs of aging prevalent in her graying hair. Along the back wall, there are several doors; Individual offices, Bucky's brain supplied.

There were shelves of books and an overwhelming amount of fake plants in the room. The closest window that Bucky could scour out immediately was a narrow, rectangular one. Lone by itself given the layout of the office building not allowing for it. Hardly any natural light seeped into the room. If the actual offices with the therapists were as gloomy as this, Bucky would have better luck abandoning all hope right then and excusing himself. Save him another uncomfortable experience in the mental health field.

Working with Raynor wasn't exactly what Bucky needed as a first experience in therapy. Before the 70 years that he'd spent under HYDRA's thumb, there were no resources like this at home. Mental Health hardly existed as a concept - no awareness of the rippling effects of war or aid for the soldiers that would return traumatized and self-loathing. Hell, men beat their wives back then like property. That was even without the PSTD and fragile masculinity slammed on top.

Not his father, thank a god that Bucky isn't sure he even believes in anymore.

Christina was rough around the edges. A former officer in the military, one would think she may be perfect for the job in regard to Bucky's emotional baggage and the weight he carries. She wasn't. That was something Bucky only began to learn months later with Sam's help; That while Dr. Raynor was not a bad woman, she was not what Bucky had needed to begin opening up to people. The clipped energy that filled a room when sharing a space with Christina made it near impossible to relax fully; When Bucky was being a little difficult on his bad days (yes, he can admit he's difficult), instead of approaching him with patience, Raynor would combat his comments with her own condescending ones. It felt more like a weekly brawl where he had something to prove rather than a safe space to begin the healing process.

It was like ripping open a healing wound, wondering why it wouldn't improve, and being confused when it worsens under brutal treatment.

Dr. Raynor was not what Bucky needed, simply put.

But the one that woman did right with all certainty was to at least aid in redirecting Bucky to someone that can help him produce better results.

That's what landed him there. In the waiting room of your office with an appointment at 3:15 p.m.

Your praise was sung of being someone who was more approachable and positive, albeit not naively so. When Bucky was peering at reviews and your background check - comforting his own paranoia - he'd seen nothing but kind things said. How patient you were. How compassionate; How you make your patients feel heard and understood. How you provide the tools to create a proper support system and show people how to live again. Bucky tries not to get his hopes up for things, but he was certainly beginning to spark hope when he was able to look more into your reviews. It made him want to try again rather than give up.

But sitting in that dim-lit office, he's not sure how confident he is in that statement anymore. Bucky's left leg bounces in an anxious fidget. His shoulders are tight, arms folded over his chest in a closed-off stance while he sits back in one of the empty chairs of the waiting room. To anyone else, Bucky probably looks angry at the world - it's just him hiding his nerves. Never an intentional expression worn, it's simply become a default to wrinkle his forehead and wear a tired face.

Bucky could still leave. The heavy door that he'd pushed open to get in taunts him from where he sits.

And it's right as he's weighing out the consequences of bailing on this idea altogether that the sound of a door opening grabs his attention. Head turning in the direction of the noise, tired eyes squinting slightly for a brief moment when light pours into the room. A woman in roughly her thirties steps out of the first door lining the back wall, followed by you. Bucky is only certain of that fact because he recognizes your face from the LinkedIn profile you have.

"Thank you again for coming in, Greta, I'm looking forward to hearing about your daughter's Bat Mitzvah; tell her happy birthday for me." you tell the woman that's begun her leave.

"Of course, I hope your next session goes well," beams a woman, assumedly 'Greta'.

Bucky sucks his bottom lip in, worrying the skin between his teeth before sighing out through his nose. Attempting to take a steadying breath to appease his nerves when--

"Mr. Barnes?" your voice prompts.

Running away isn't a choice anymore. Not realistically.

So Bucky drops his arms and feels the taut muscles in his shoulders before trying to force them to settle. Rolling broad muscle under his leather coat before pressing off the armrests of the wooden chair with gloved hands to get up. His eyes remain averted from your face, but he crosses the room to you nevertheless.

"It's nice to meet you, James, if you'd please step in here with me," you hold the door open for Bucky; Allowing him to step into the relatively small space.

But it's not suffocating, he notices.

It's actually a stark contrast to the heavy waiting room he'd just been sitting in for the past 10 minutes or so. The light of day pours in from the tall, wide window on the back wall of the room. In the brief space where the window doesn't occupy the wall, there's a bookcase sat with countless psychology books. A soft-looking loveseat is pressed against the wall to Bucky's right, and across from that is a matching single chair with an end table. On the table sits a lamp, a box of tissues, and what appears to be a selection of colorful fidget toys. The walls are hogged by large framed photos; some of paintings, some of hyper-realistic photos or art. The floor is a deep gray-brown carpet, the walls painted a soft eggshell. Plants sit on the shelf in front of the window, drinking in the sun; He spots a Wandering Jew, two cactuses (both different breeds), and a succulent perched comfortably.

"Have a seat," your voice interrupts the way Bucky studies the room, and promptly he moves to the loveseat. Lowering himself into it, it's significantly more comfortable than the chair he was just sitting in. Still, Bucky sits stiffly. Uncomfortable; refraining from letting his back touch the couch and posture coming across as closed up without him even realizing it.

Like a mantra, belittling thoughts play on a broken loop through his head.

This isn't going to work. It's going to end badly. I'm going to be seen as a monster all the same. I'm a bad person, I don't deserve this. Other people deserve it more. I'm wasting everyone's time.

The thoughts spiral heavier and heavier for Bucky, even as you close the door; successfully sectioning him and you off from the rest of the world. His jaw sets as you move to sit across from him.

Bucky silently wishes the moment would end before it's even begun.

He wants to go back to his apartment, even if it makes him just as miserable.

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?”

Bucky wants to heal. You see it in him. The first step is admitting you have an issue; that there is something wrong. Not that Bucky is wrong, but his headspace surely is a defunct mess; The task ahead of you in untangling said mess is daunting, but Bucky is worthy of it. He deserves it. Even if he doesn't realize that yet.

He deserves to have someone who's willing to help him understand and put the pieces back together. Not simply throw their hands up the first time that Bucky struggles and leave him to fend for himself - this man was done far too much fending by himself.

It's clear by the silence followed by the words, 'That’s all I’ll ever ask of you', that Bucky isn't sure what to say. Rather than allowing the quiet to eat at him, you continue the conversation. Save him from the anxiety he might be feeling in being unable to muster a reply.

"So, Bucky - Can I call you 'Bucky'?" You ask, sure to keep a warm and approachable composure. Bucky's comfort is your priority; If he feels unwelcomed, he won't come back.

A stiff nod comes from the man across you. He still struggles to meet your gaze; Eventually, you'll both work on that, but for now, you don't mind. Let him take things at his own pace.

"So, Bucky," you reiterate, leaning back in your armchair and crossing your legs at the ankle. Your shoulders ease and you relax into your seat. "How about we start by getting to know you a little bit; Where you'd like to work first and what some of your immediate issues are, in your opinion."

Bucky's teeth clench - you can tell because his jaw flexes and it pulls on your heartstrings for a moment. His shoulders look so tight, his body so stiff. Chiseled features are hard, and his face doesn't seem nearly as full as you'd seen in museums and textbooks while growing up and learning American History. Dare you even say he almost looks sunken in, with dark rings around his eyes and sadness in gray hues.

You wonder how he sleeps at night - if he even does. If he eats the way he should. It's heartbreaking to see a man carved into such a husk.

"Raynor was working with me to make amends," Bucky starts, and surely that doesn't mean what you think it does-- "To make things right for what I did as the Winter Soldier, as a condition of my pardon."

"There's nothing to make right, Bucky." You answer almost immediately; your blood feeling hot for half a moment. You saw history unfold right before you, living in New York. Hearing the chaos of HYDRA overtaking SHIELD in 2014, that Boy Wonder 'Bucky Barnes' was still alive. Many things were kept from the public, as much as they could be, but one thing was for certain. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could see that Bucky was another victim of HYDRA's. Not the catalyst for the carnage. An unwilling piece of the puzzle.

You have to stop yourself from becoming too expressive, though. Despite the quickness of your words, you maintain an evenness to them. "Now, I won't pretend to know what's happened with it all; That's something for us to talk about with time. But I can promise you right now, Bucky, that I am not Dr. Raynor. And while we can revise the conditions of your pardon, you won't be trying to fix mistakes you didn't make. We're here to help you."

Another break of silence, and Bucky has begun to fidget with his hands. Kneading them together in his lap; your own gaze flickering briefly to watch the leather rub on leather.

"I... I don't know what to say," Bucky speaks, his voice soft and timid. Unmatching the hardness of his face.

A small crease forms between his brows, eyes downcast but briefly lifting to peer at you.

"You don't have to know what to say right now," you gently tell him. "I know you may not agree with my perspective on things right now, but please hear me when I tell you that I'm not here to judge you. You're a survivor, Bucky."

A soft huff comes from him - lip curling into a crooked grin that's humorless. Bucky shakes his head right after, and the expression falls. You watch curiously.

"I'm sorry, it's... Everyone seems to either look at me like the pariah or like a victim." Bucky explains, and for a moment, your lips form a soft smile. You lean forward, shifting your position once more to lean in a little closer to Bucky's space without outright intruding on it.

"You're a survivor," you reiterate. Making sure he hears it. "And there is no shame in being a survivor - I'm a survivor and don't consider it derogatory, it's exactly what I am."

Bucky's brow knits up slightly and his attention is on you fully. Arguably the longest so far since he's been in this room with you. He looks as though he's searching for something and the answer is somehow embedded in you, and deep down, you want to give him whatever it is he's searching for.

You're a survivor, too. It's what made you good at your job. Being able to empathize to a degree with the individuals that come to you; To be able to share your own experiences and show the person sitting in front of you that they are not alone. People like to feel heard and understood. And sometimes the best way to for that is to sit with someone who's been through something similar.

Though you certainly didn't have experience as a prisoner of war who was genetically engineered...

His pink lips part as though he wants to speak, but whatever words were that die on Bucky's tongue when his mouth clamps shut and he finally averts his attention. You follow his gaze briefly to find him looking out the window parallel to him on his right. The light peeked in through the sheer curtains and lit the side of his face partially. You wonder if the sunlight makes him warm at all.

"Do you want me to draw the curtains for you, Bucky?" You offer, wondering if perhaps it's distracting to him.

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm not used to this." "Can you explain what 'this' is?" You ask, gently prompting him in hopes he keeps talking. "I, uhm..." His voice trails - clearly searching for the words. "You're... Calm. I don't entirely know how to explain it. We haven't been talking that long but I was, uh, intimidated to meet you. My precious therapy experiences haven't been the best..." It's the most he's said in a single sitting, you're impressed.

"And that's alright - sometimes not every therapist works out. Many people struggle to understand that therapy is not a 'one size fits all' matter. Sometimes we have to feel out situations and feel out people. If you decide at any point you're no longer comfortable speaking with me, I understand and will be more than happy to help you find another therapist that can specialize in your concerns." Always deliberate as to not call Bucky's situation 'problems' or 'what's wrong'. The last thing you'd want is for him to feel as though he is the root problem in his life. He's not.

"Thank you," the man murmurs softly, and you can tell it's another moment he's unsure what to say. Even the words feel as though it took quite a deal of effort to muster from Bucky. That's okay - sometimes people need to warm up. You're not surprised in the least that Bucky isn't an open book, you wouldn't be if you went through even half of what he did.

"...I'll tell you what," You begin, Bucky's attention drawing right back to you rather than the world outside the glass. "How about we start small, you and I, okay? We don't have to touch anything heavy yet, we can start simple."

"Simple?" Bucky echoes.

"Mhm," a confident nod from you, "I hope I don't sound rude at all, but I can tell you're someone who's carrying a whole lot more than they let on."

That earns a skeptical look from Bucky. You wonder in a brief moment where you potentially lost him when he answers that question for you:

"I'm sure you can." The response comes out almost irritated. No elaboration.

For a moment your mind scrambles, wondering, before it clicks. Still, you encourage Bucky to use his words. "What do you mean?"

A long sigh comes through his nose. "Oh, c'mon," he tries, but you simply look expectantly. Bucky needs to communicate, if they have no form of communication, they have nothing. "Y'know, everyone seems to know about me. Everything with HYDRA..." His expression is progressively hardening; He's lumping you with everyone else. You see it. Even if Bucky doesn't realize what he's doing, he's trying to build that wall again. Brick himself out and separate himself.

"No," You reply, "I only know what you want to share with me, Bucky. I didn't follow your story as it was happening - though I'd be lying if I said I was entirely clueless. Whatever I knew prior to meeting you today, though, doesn't matter. I want to know you. Not what everyone else's perception of you, is. Consider us strangers."

Then, as if to prove your point, you shift forward even more in your seat. Uncrossing your legs and sitting them flat on the floor as you offer your right hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bucky, I'm Dr. Y/N." Maybe the notion seems silly - and it is, honestly. You've both been talking this long.

Bucky is a little taken aback by the gesture; Blinking at you cluelessly for a moment before he huffs again. This time, his half-hearted grin doesn't look so bitter when he offers his right hand out tentatively. A ginger shake, as though he's scared he's going to break you, and the leather of his glove is warm against your palm.

While he doesn't verbally reciprocate the gesture, his expression speaks for him. A conversation without words.

It's clear that it's a bit more comforting to Bucky. For a brief moment he seemed as though he was ready to leave without coming back, but with quick thinking, you're relieved to have reeled him in once more.

"Anything about you outside of this room means nothing to me," you promise. "It's up to you how much you share. No one else."

Bucky's smile pulls just a tad bit wider, and you consider it a victory.

"We'll start simple," You repeat, pulling your hand from his to pick up the notepad on the table beside you. Flipping to a clean page and clicking your pen - you don't miss the way Bucky looks at you almost worriedly. As if you've picked up a weapon when in reality it's a pen and paper.

"I'd like you to find a nice journal that you like. One that you won't be afraid to write in, and one that you'll feel comfortable using. Next week when we see each other, I'd like you to bring it with you." You effortlessly speak while your pen scrawls away on the small lines sheet in front of you - your handwriting reads out on the paper, 'BRING A NOTEBOOK THAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH USING :)'

You tear the paper from the metal rings that bind it and pass it over to Bucky. He takes it wordlessly, looking at the piece of paper in his hands.

"That's it...?" Bucky ponders aloud. "That's it." Another gentle smile you wear. "Journaling is an extremely useful tool for going through our feelings and helping us take a step back and breathe. It can help us avoid dramatizing situations unintentionally, and it can help us develop a sense of mindfulness and gratitude. You don't need to write anything in it just yet, but if you'd like to decorate it, I won't stop you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable to begin writing in it."

"...Dr. Raynor didn't have me keep a journal," the soldier murmurs. "I'm not Dr. Raynor." you answer simply.

Your first session with Bucky seems to go well on all accounts. Sure there were a few brief tense moments, but you like to hope he'll return. At the end of the day, that's Bucky's decision. If he chooses to continue with you as his therapist, though, you want to help him in any way he can.

He doesn't know it yet, but you're determined. By the end of your time together, you want to have helped Bucky obtain a new perspective and help him live. Not simply survive.

After he leaves your office, you make sure to fill your schedule in for the same time next week.

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lanabuckybarnes · 4 months

Text

| Take The Reins | 18+ MINORS DNI

You’ve lived your life being that bitch, completely independent from everyone else. After finding love with Bucky you fell into that leading role, helping the man recover from his years worth of torture and brainwashing. It’s starting to take its toll and Bucky notices.

✧ Author Note ✧ So this was very indulgent and a complete filth fest lmao. It’s been a long time coming but I hope you enjoy this hehe~

✧ Pairing ✧ Dom!Bucky x Sub!Reader

✧ Warnings ✧ Sub!Bucky Dom!Reader to start, Mommy Kink, Withdrawn Consent, Feelings (ew), Daddy Kink, Sweetheart Bucky, Dom!Bucky, Sub!Reader, Established Safeword, Teasing, Dirty Talk, so much dirty talk, praising, Nipple play, Pussy eating, Dumbification, Face sitting (M), Ball Sucking, PinV (unprotected), Mentions of Breeding, Dacryphilia, a teeny amount of aftercare, did I mention this is extremely dirty.

✧ Word Count ✧ 4.2k

Bucky's lips had not pulled themselves from their pout all day, his eyes flickering over the words of his book but not quite taking them in, his mind far too preoccupied on something, someone, else.

It had been like this since yesterday; after coming home from a long mission he wanted nothing more than to pull his pants and briefs off his tired legs and slip into the sheets beside you, you’d treat him right, and you had, your hand and mouth working on his thick neglected length; pushing him past the point of return before bringing him back beside you with sweet praises on your lashing tongue as it greedily sucked up the thick slicked mess he left over his abs.

“Mmm, you’re such a sweet little boy ain’t you?” Your tongue ran up the split in his core, drawing a drool-tinged line up to his sternum before sucking sweet marks back down all the while your hand pumped his aching length between your slender fingers.

Bucky’s headspace slipped for a second at your words, or rather the tonality laced through them; it was lacking its usual sultry touch, instead replaced by something akin to tiredness, it was enough to have Bucky slip back from under you until his wide back connected with the wooden headboard.

“Angel?” His calloused hand slipped under your chin, concerned-looking blue eyes meeting your confused ones, but the exhaustion you thought you hid so expertly was easily noticed by Bucky. His heart clenched and panic settled deep in his gut.

All he’d done was take, fumbling over each orgasm you gave him, he hadn’t even stopped to think of what you needed.

“Let me please you Mommy, wanna make you feel good” if all he did was take before he was prepared to give his girl, his dom all the pleasure she wanted. But you pulled his hands from the side of your sweatpants with a weak smile, leaning forward to kiss away the worried wobble of his lips.

“Mmm mm it’s ok baby boy, I’m just a little tired—just wanna cuddle with you” you soothed, running small thumbs over the back of his veiny hands, turning yourself until you lay in your back and pulling him down until his scruffy beard scraped deliciously over the swell of your breasts.

Bucky laid awake long after you, he’d never seen you less enthusiastic about sex, you were always rearing to go and make him whimper and whine below you, but he willed himself to forget about it for just the time being and get himself some sleep.

Little did Bucky know just how deep the exhaustion ran for you.

You loved Bucky, loved pleasing him, taking control but after over a year of denying that primal urge to have someone take the reins, do all the things you did to Bucky, take control so all you had to worry about was being a good little girl — you were wearing thin.

But telling Bucky this in your eyes would pull his carefully stitched string around his heart and soul too taut and the last thing you wanted was for them to snap because you were too much of a baby to suck up something so silly.

Bucky sucked on his teeth before shutting the book over and making a B-line to where he knew you often cooped yourself up.

The gym was empty, the only evidence that someone was there being the heavy smack of first against leather, You panted out a growl as you threw another shot, weaker than the last one which was also weaker than the one before, you were beyond tired but that tangled mess of thoughts in your brain meant that you hadn’t worked out enough stress.

Your thoughts were so loud in your ears that you neglected to notice Bucky’s wide frame as he drew closer until he was almost on top of you.

“Have you stopped at all?” He cringed instantly at the calloused nature of his words, he wanted to sound more concerned yet came across as angry, Bucky Barnes shining through rather than the baby boy you were so used to.

“Gotta keep-“ your words were verbal mush as you pranced around the bag, footing clumsy as sweat dribbled down your forehead and into your eyes. Bucky had enough.

“Ok Stop!!” He growled, metal arm tightening around the thick links holding up the bag, stopping it swinging almost effortlessly. You turned to him, head tilted back as you glared at his dark features.

“Let go of it” You demanded, gaze unwavering against his; usually the shades swimming around your irises would have him on his knees before you, apologising breathlessly but not today, not when you were going to kill yourself if you kept up.

“What is this about?” He asked, clipping his words to give you the idea that he was irritated and worried rather than panicked and guilty. You stood your ground for a moment longer before your shoulders sagged and you dropped like a sack onto the floor, shaky fingers clutching your bottle as you greedily sucked down your water.

You knew it would get worse if you kept it hidden from him and a part of you felt more guilty now that you had used the guise of ‘protecting’ him to cover the way you truly felt, so you heaved a breath and spoke.

“I-just…I’m tired Bucky, it’s been a long time coming but last night when you came home, god you looked so fucking hot, all I could think about was me below you while you took the reins.” You picked at the broken skin around your nails as you spoke, your eyes darting anywhere but him as you felt him squat down to your level.

“All my life I’ve done my own thing, been independent and taken control…I guess it’s just weighing on me now. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that- I need to let go, take my foot off the gas and let someone take control, I didn’t wanna tell you because I know how hard it’s been for you and control was a big thi-“ his plump lips securing yours in a passionate lip lock had your words fading into nothingness, Bucky’s scent being the only thing your brain could truly focus on— he often had that effect on you.

“You want me to take the lead baby?” god his voice was so deep, dark locks framing his deep-coloured eyes as they studied you amorously, taking in each subtle detail of your face as the frown you held melted into something weaker - vulnerability.

You nodded softly, doe-like eyes falling from his steely gaze as trickles of submission pumped through your spine to the tips of your digits, this is what it must’ve felt like for Bucky. His big hands cupped both sides of your face and pulled it with a tug to face his dead-on.

“Words angel…otherwise, I don’t know what you want” The look he fixed you with was almost mocking as he spoke like you were a child, barely able to understand a word he said.

“I want you to take control Buck, make me feel good” you whined, internally just a little concerned at how easily you slipped into the role but Bucky had a way of making sure you were safe to lose yourself when he was around.

“Ok baby” he whispered against your forehead, lips pressing delicately against the sweaty skin before he pulled you up and into his arms.

“Daddy’ll help you clean up then he’ll make you feel good, promise” he bit back a smile when you hummed and sunk into his beefy frame.

Bucky took his time cleaning you up, tentatively scrubbing your body wash into your skin, his thumbs digging into the knots of your body until you were limber.

Your feet had barely touched the ground since he’d pulled you from the gym, there was no need, bucky thought, he was big enough to move you.

“There we are” he smiled airily as he set your towel-wrapped frame onto the plush bed.

“Now some ground rules baby; we’ll use the traffic light system ok? If you don’t like anything you tell me and I’ll stop right away, I’ll be mad if you don’t. You’ll answer when I ask you questions with your words only unless you can’t, and you’ll be a good girl and have fun” His smile widened when you gave him a small nod followed by a soft ‘yes’.

Bucky’s wide hands ran up your thighs, fingertips venturing just under the towel before he scraped his nails back down, drawing a teased whine from you.

“Mm gonna make you feel so good angel…wish you would’ve told me sooner this is what you wanted” he whispered huskily, pushing you until your back met the mattress before his fingers gripped your wrists and sat them one over the other above your head.

“Keep em there”

He leaned down, tongue wetting his lips before it slipped into your ajar mouth, pushing against your own, suckling slightly on it when he pulled back and your tongue chased him out of your mouth. He took his sweet time unwrapping the front of the towel, your whimpers of impatience music to his ears.

“Mm, what’s wrong baby? You whining because I’m taking my sweet time? Now that’s not being very good is it…you lie there and keep that pretty mouth quiet unless it’s moans of pleasure alright? Wouldn’t wanna punish you so early” his face split in a shit-eating grin as he whipped the towel from your front, exposing your delicate front to him, your nipples pebbling at the gentle breeze falling from his nose and fanning down the swell of your tits, snaking down the valley like a hot river.

“Fuckkk these tits, always so fucking hot—loved when they would bounce up and down in my face while you rode me Mommy” Your body jerked violently under his at the name; the usual breath tone that accompanied it was long gone, replaced with a deep growly timbre that made the insides of your thighs slick with your juices.

“You smell fucking good angel, you soaking yourself thinking bout me? Don’t even try shaking that head” he mumbled around a mouthful of breast, teeth and tongue grazing over it, sucking it into his mouth before sinking his pearly whites gently causing you to shriek and the mismatched feelings. While his tongue lashed over one of your hardened buds his metal thumb circled the other gently like it was your puffy little clit.

“Please!!!—“ you begged, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your legs hitched up onto the bed; his abs ran against your little clit’s hood sending shockwaves over you, and your back arched as your hips ground into the muscle more.

Bucky tut, pulling away from you completely, an incredulous laugh falling from his mouth as he gazed down at his shiny abdomen. You’d fucking soaked him, your desperate grinding slickening his corded muscle. You shut your legs in embarrassment as his fingers ran over the essence and slipped into his mouth.

“Mmm shit angel tastes so good, open those fucking legs” he groaned, knees thumping painfully against the ground but all he was focused on was the sopping meal in front of him.

“Look at you…always knew you were a desperate slut, put your hands in daddy’s hair while he eats you out’ love it when you pull on it” his wide tongue covered the expanse of your slit and folds as he hungrily lapped up the juices, letting out a satisfied hum when a graze of his teeth on your aching pearl and more juices slipping unabashedly from your tight hole.

Bucky sucked on your folds like a man starved; mouth open wide as his thick tongue devoured you, circling your clit before dipping down and slipping his tongue as far as it would go into your weeping hole. He hummed delightfully as you pulled on his locks, his head shaking from side to side, your juices flicking all over the place—you just knew there would’ve been a wet patch all over the bed if it weren’t for your towel but as Bucky continued you weren't sure the towel would stop it.

Bucky was lost in the taste of your pussy, cerulean eyes glazed over, a concentrating stare directed up your body, watching as it jerked and shuddered at his relentless torment.

“You enjoying this sweetheart? You love it when you can go all dumb don’t you…just wait till daddy has you on his dick, I’ll fuck you right baby you don’t have to worry about that” his growls vibrated against your lips and straight to the tight knot coiling in your belly.

You cried out as his nose rubbed against your sweet little pearl, his tongue curling up inside you, his metal hand pressing onto your pubic bone keeping you firmly planted to the bed. His efforts doubled at your garbled pleas and tears.

“Aww gonna come angel? Gonna soak Daddy’s face yeah? Mmm come on sweet girl come all over my fucking face” he moaned through a mouthful of your pussy, eyes shutting as you jerked and shook, your thighs clamping down onto the side of his head.

“Good fucking girl that’s it yeah your feeding daddy so well mama’ giving me your sweet little juices” The words oozed from Bucky’s wet mouth filthily while his thumb rubbed gently over your sensitive clit, his hand only stopping when you whined weakly and pushed on his rippling forearm.

Bucky rose, his fingers shaking as he struggled with the button on his jeans; his cock bulged dramatically against the front, his thighs filling out the denim in a way that should’ve been illegal.

“Fucking shit” he grumbled before a light popped aired around the room, his button pinging to the other side of the room as he impatiently tore down the denim along with his grey briefs before he ripped the henly over his head. If you thought he looked good clothed your mouth ran dry at the sight of his naked form, his tanned skin layered over stacks of muscles, stretching and compressing with each movement he made as he straddled your much smaller frame, his tree trunk-sized thighs caging you in.

“I wanna try something angel, you wanna taste Daddy?” He groaned, hair curling down his built shoulders as his head rolled back, he poked his tongue out to wet his lips, muffling his soft sounds as his hand jerked over his heavy length. He was kneeling over your breasts, the head of his cock positioned perfectly over your lips; when a bead of his precum slipped from his tip your mouth parted in anticipation, watching it trail down and almost fall but his fingers caught it first.

“Answer me babydoll” he reprimanded your silence.

“Wanna taste you Daddy please” god you were so pathetic but you were loving it; it was such a far cry from the role you played just yesterday that it almost gave you whiplash but Bucky was there, he’d make sure you were alright.

“Well, I wanna save my cock for that pretty pussy so how about I sit on that pretty face and you can suck on my balls, how’s that sound?” You gaped, whine falling unruly from your greedy mouth at even just the thought; a simple glance down the way would let you see just how heavy his sac was as it hung and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to massage them with your tongue.

You nodded frantically “Wanna lick your balls Daddy please lemme suck on them…sit on my face and give me them Daddy”

“Ok angel” he smiled, metal fingers cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at his hair-framed face “But you’ll tap my thigh if you wanna stop won’t you?” He asked, dominant edge replaced with soft tones; the last thing he wanted was to push you too far and you’d have no way to stop him.

“I will just hurry” you whimpered, hands grasping the plush cheeks of his ass and weakly pushing his body, attempting to manoeuvre him to your face. He chuckled before giving you what you want.

Bucky never thought that having his balls played with would ever feel as good as it did. In the 40s he’d had one relationship that led to the bedroom but the girl wouldn’t do anything like you would. His blue eyes blared down at you, your gazes meeting as your tongue worked over his sac expertly, lips closing around the soft skin and sucking on one before moving to another—bucky could hardly control himself when you giggled against him at the sight of his fucked out face, he could feel his control slipping into that sub headspace he was so used to but your glazed over orbs made sure he never got too far. He had his perfect girl to take care of and he was gonna damn well do his job.

“Fuck baby-ohh, ain’t ever felt something so good…you like daddy’s balls, don’t you? Mm fuck gonna come soon angel” his confession spurred you on, messily, you sucked both his balls in; a moan flowing from your mouth freely at the stretch of your jaw. Bucky fumbled, his legs slipping and his weight leaning more on your face before his titanium fingers fisted the sheets above your head, making sure he didn’t crush you.

He was losing his marbles, head buzzing so loud in his ears he couldn’t control the breathy moans falling from his lips, he had to move or he’d come.

“Stop baby” he lifted slightly; the whimper coming from you as you followed his movement almost made him go crazy, the urge to plank his entire weight on your mouth almost too much but he shook his head.

“Ah ah angel, wanna come in you— breed that fucking cunt” he rambled. snaking down till his lips were level with yours he kissed you sweetly, your taste still present on his lips and tongue as it messed around with your own.

“You're doing so good for me sweet baby, you wanna keep going? Want me to make you come on my cock huh, breed you fucking full…maybe you’ll let me in that little ass after, pump both your holes full of me—fuck” his hand darted down to squeeze his length, a long throaty groan escaping him and onto your face.

“Shit” he chuckled “just fucking thinking of my dick splitting you in two almost had me cumming mama, your insatiable” his lips fell onto yours again, tongue swiping violently against yours now.

He growled into your mouth as his raging head swiped over your sopping slit, catching on the underside of your pearl, he smacked himself there a few times before slipping back down.

“Colour baby” he whispered, flesh thumb and index finger pinching your chin and bringing you back to him.

“So green Daddy, so fucking green” you cried, eyes glazed over and brain almost mush. This is what you wanted; you were finally letting go and it felt amazing, Bucky was taking such good care of you, teetering on the edge of handling you like fine china and pushing you around like some common whore—a perfect balance.

With prep, Bucky was difficult to take inside but now it felt like a whole different ballgame. An almost sobbed whimper fell from his lips as his cock pushed in, his teeth biting his lower lip firmly, his metal hand carding through your hair until it rested against your scalp. He was so close; so ready to cum in you that it was almost painful to keep his core tight and his balls from spilling. After much effort he was fully inside, curled hair at the base of his cock tickling your labia, his balls resting against your perineum.

You sobbed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his back, your nails leaving crescent shapes over the muscle while your legs wrapped themselves over his ass, keeping him still inside you.

“Colour angel come on, you don’t gotta keep going” his lips brushed your ear as worry littered his voice. He’d never seen you like this, so…cockdrunk; your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as tears slipped down your face and into your hair. You had so much control of yourself and your life, part of the reason he’d been so enamoured by you was because you’d had a life like his yet bounced back and reclaimed yourself. He knew it was hard for you, he’d comforted you during those times it got bad but he’d never witnessed you giving in so easily— giving yourself to him in the same way he’d give himself to you— it worried him but his heart swelled with pride and love most of all. You’d let him be the decision maker and he wanted to make sure he hadn’t taken too much.

“Green daddy… I'm sorry just-its a little overwhelming” you babbled, your fingers lifting a little and your head flopping back onto the bed to catch his eyes; they swam with nothing but love and awe.

“That’s ok baby, you want me to fuck you nice and slow? I’ll take care of you” his lips pecked your own, dog tags resting on your sternum.

“No Daddy, want you to use me…want you to breed me”.

Bucky was a man of service and he was going to service his sweet little girl in the way she wanted. He pulled out with a loud shlurp until only his head stayed inside before plunging in again. He thrust gently a few times until you loosened up a little, and then his thrust became more powerful, balls slapping into a mixture of your juices and his precum.

“Ohhh fuck—so tight for me sweetheart, you like it when I breed you huh? Bet that dumb little fucking brain is just thinking of nothing but my cock and cum filling you up…oh mama gonna make you so round, watch those tits swell up until they can’t fit in those fucking sexy bras mmmm” Whatever control Bucky had on himself was gone. He thrust quickly, the bed creaking under each slap of his hips into you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, everything was Bucky—and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

“Fuck daddy” you slurred, there was that familiar coiling in your stomach, every nerve in your body pleading to let go “Gonna cum Daddy” the words fell from you like a chant.

“That’s it, sweetness, come for your daddy…milk my fucking cock” and you did. Your pussy clenched tight, your mouth opened in a high-pitched cry, your arms and legs clinging tightly to Bucky as he sent you to the moon and back.

“FUCK—I’m gonna fucking come baby, oh shit mama gonna breed you so good, you want me to breed you? Tell me you fucking want it baby, tell me” he snarled, teeth securing themselves around your earlobe as his thrusts grew sloppy.

“Ahh wan it so bad…hah Bucky” was all you could muster as his cock plunged deep one last time. He moaned loudly, fucking his cock into your cervix as he came

“mmmm fucking hell baby” he laughed breathlessly as he lay on top of you; body tremoring as his orgasm subsided—then all of his attention was on you.

“You alright angel?” He hissed as he slipped out and scooped you up into his arms, ignoring the slight whine of protest and your aching muscles moved against their will. His lips smothered you in soft kisses, his fingers rubbing over all of your body and smoothing out your hair.

“Mmm,” you mumbled, sniffing back your tears. Bucky had been everything you wanted and more but with emotions running high you broke down.

“Fuck did I hurt you babydoll?” He worried, had you lied to him? You seemed to be enjoying it but were you just afraid that you’d dug yourself too deep; his thoughts returned from last night as well—maybe you just never wanted him at all.

Sensing his worried thoughts like you normally would, you had a knack for it, your thumb smoothed over the crease between his brows before you leaned forward and planted a soft kiss there

“I enjoyed it all Buck, too much if anything” You laughed at the last part and it coaxed Bucky to chuckle too.

“Come on; gotta get you cleaned up” He kissed you softly before beginning to move but you gripped the sheets tightly, stopping him.

“Mmm just wanna sleep right now buck” you argued. Any other night Bucky would have argued, that he loved showering you after sex, it grounded him. But the look on your face was one he couldn't resist so he sank back down against the pillows, his foot kicking the soaked towel to the floor.

“Alright but once we get up it’s straight to the shower” he mumbled against your hair, his metal fingers running down the column of your spine.

“Round two in there?” You cracked an eye open to watch him as you spoke.

“You’re gonna kill me woman” he groaned but his cock twitched softly against his thigh.

You’d get your round two, and round three…..and four.

✧ ✧

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deliciousangelfestival · 16 days

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

Text

mastermind

Summary: As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy. And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her // …or the one where you find Wanda in the crowd during your band's gig, only to discover there's much more to her than you initially thought.

Word count: 5.2K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Fluff, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, Meet-cute, Drummer!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested by anon. I got carried a way for a bit and took a few liberties. Hope you like it!

You almost didn’t make it for tonight’s gig.

Still recovering from the flu you caught last week, you were close to letting Kate fill in on the drums. That is, until Yelena begged you not to let her girlfriend botch a sold-out evening.

The tension backstage is thicker than Bucky’s pre-show smoothie, and, given the mishmash of green ingredients, that's saying something.

“I'm just saying, letting Kate drum tonight is like giving a cat a keyboard and expecting Bonham,” Yelena says, gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Continue talking and you might not have a girlfriend by the end of your next sentence!” Kate huffs, spinning on her heel to stomp out of the area.

You sip on your water, trying to keep your hydration levels up but also stifle a chuckle. This isn’t the first time Yelena’s protective streak has clashed with Kate's overenthusiastic approach to... well, everything. Natasha is trying, and failing, to keep a straight face, while Bucky seems to have found sudden interest in the intricate patterns on his boots.

Your head is throbbing, the remnants of the flu still gnawing at your energy, but you've mustered up just enough strength to make it through tonight's set. Before Yelena or any other band member can comment further, the organizer gestures for your band to take the stage.

You take a deep breath, followed by another swig of water. It's almost showtime, and the excitement is seeping through the nerves, reminding you why you endure the endless rehearsals, sleepless nights, and yes, even the pre-show squabbles.

As you step onto the stage, the applause is deafening. The lights illuminate the sea of faces before you, and you can see the familiar glint of excitement in the eyes of returning fans mixed with the curious expressions of first-timers.

Bucky approaches the mic, flashing his signature charming smile at the crowd. “Good evening, everyone! We’re ecstatic to see so many familiar faces and new ones too! We've got a great set for you tonight, but before we start, let's give a big shoutout to Y/N here, who's powering through the flu to be with us tonight!” The crowd roars in appreciation, and you can't help but wave sheepishly, a tentative smile stretching across your face.

Natasha strums the opening chords of the first song, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. Yelena, momentarily forgetting her earlier spat with Kate, loses herself in the rhythm, the bassline syncing perfectly with your drumbeat. The music flows, each note hitting the right spots, the synergy between band members mesmerizing the audience.

As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy.

And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her.

There's a brunette, her hair cascading down, dancing like she was born for this exact moment. The way she sways and lets loose to the rhythm—it's captivating.

But it's when she turns around that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Her eyes meet yours, and the world seems to slow down for a moment. Those intense, deep-set eyes pull you in, making it impossible to look away. They're filled with an emotion that's hard to pinpoint: intrigue, curiosity, maybe even a hint of challenge. The message is clear—she's noticed you, just as much as you've noticed her.

She doesn't break the gaze, and as her hips move in tune with your beats, there's a silent communication happening. Your hands, despite the rising temperature of the room, feel cold against the drumsticks. It's a battle to maintain your rhythm and not lose yourself under her spell.

Natasha, catching the look on your face, leans in during a brief instrumental break. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, attempting to refocus. Your distraction had almost caused you to miss a beat or two.

Your eyes are locked onto the brunette once more as she starts grinding against her friend, her movements confident, sultry, and unapologetically magnetic. It's the sort of dancing that would have any person within the perimeter drooling on the spot. Usually, you'd shy away from openly watching someone move so suggestively, but you find yourself completely mesmerized.

As the next song kicks off, you throw in some extra flash on the drums, just to see if she'll play along. And sure enough, with every fancy beat you drop, she dances right to it. It's like you're both in this unspoken challenge, seeing who can outdo the other. Your fingers grip the drumsticks tighter, and you can feel the heat rising on your face.

That's when Natasha glances in the same direction and catches on. “Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan,” she murmurs with a wink, her voice barely audible over the booming speakers.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the dryness in your mouth betrays your nonchalance. “Just playing my part,” you quip, though you're keenly aware that your concentration tonight is split between the drums and the mesmerizing dancer.

Yelena, following the exchange between you and Natasha, leans in from the bass guitar, raising an eyebrow. “Who's got you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up, Yel,” you retort. With cheeks aflame, you try to shove Yelena’s teasing aside, to focus solely on the music coursing through your veins. However, the allure of the brunette is a magnet you can’t seem to resist.

As the beat picks up, so does the pace of your heart, hammering against your chest with every enthralling movement she makes. She is intoxicating, and you’re utterly spellbound.

During the bridge, you hit a sour note—a misstep that rarely happens—and Bucky gives you a dirty look from across the stage. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to the music, and you mouth a silent “sorry” before forcing your eyes away from the captivating sight in the crowd.

But not before catching her reaction.

She's laughing, her eyes alight with impishness, and you'd swear she's looking right at you. There's a knowing smile on her lips that suggests she knows exactly the effect she’s had on you. It’s both mortifying and exhilarating.

You try to keep to the side, hiding behind cymbals and drums, but it's impossible to shake the sensation of being observed. It's like she's got a spotlight aimed right at you, and you're center stage. Every moment you resist looking her way feels like an eternity, but every time you feel the pull to glance in her direction, Yelena’s earlier tease flares in your mind, keeping your eyes stubbornly on Bucky’s flashy shoes.

As the last song fades and the applause rolls in, you set down your drumsticks, nerves and excitement warring within you. You don't hang around for Bucky's wrap-up speech. Instead, you hustle to get backstage.

To everyone's shock, you decide to stick around after the gig. You're usually the most introverted one in the group and never do this.

Natasha sidles up to you, a teasing smirk on her lips. “So, about that girl you couldn't take your eyes off of...?”

You attempt to play it cool, but your nervous fidgeting with your drumsticks gives you away. “What girl?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

Bucky snorts in amusement, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “The one you were practically eye-fucking the entire set? Thought you were gonna jump off stage and grab her right there.”

You're now the shade of a ripe tomato, desperately searching for a diversion. “You guys are seeing things,” you mumble, avoiding their amused gazes.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting her to throw a bra onstage or something, the way you were gawking,” Yelena chirps in.

“Enough,” you protest weakly, your voice drowned out by the laughter of your bandmates.

Just as you're about to slip away to the bar for a breather, a waiter approaches you with a drink in hand. “Compliments of the lady over there,” he says, nodding towards a dim corner of the club.

You peer in the direction he's indicating but can't make out who it's from. The drink looks fancy, possibly alcoholic. Glancing at the waiter, you inform him, “I can't drink alcohol right now, but thank you.”

Natasha snatches it from the tray. “Well, if you're not taking it, it's mine.”

Bucky laughs. “Is everyone in this club trying to woo our drummer tonight?”

You roll your eyes at them, trying not to dwell on the mystery woman. However, it's not long before the same waiter returns, this time holding a simple glass of lemonade. “The lady noticed you weren’t drinking the cocktails and thought you might prefer this.”

Your curiosity almost gets the better of you, but the memories of the striking brunette dancing to your beats earlier still linger fresh in your mind. You opt not to scour the club's corners to spot who's sending the drinks. Instead, you lift the lemonade in a thankful gesture, aiming it in the general direction of where the waiter had pointed, and offer a polite, appreciative smile into the dim.

Natasha teases, “Playing hard to get, huh?”

You shrug and take a sip from your drink. “Just soaking in the night and the rewards of our hard work,” you remark, patting the pocket where you tucked away the cash from tonight's gig. “Isn't that what we're here for?”

An hour later, the club's neon and strobe lights continue to play tricks on your eyes, turning every brunette head you spot into a potential sighting. Each time, however, it’s not her.

Bucky's animated conversation about a new track he's been working on fades into the background. Natasha keeps throwing you knowing glances, but doesn't press. It's Yelena who finally comments, probably having had enough of your desolate puppy-dog look. She nudges you with her elbow, Kate giggling drunkenly by her side. Yelena's arm is protectively around Kate, but her sharp gaze is all on you.

“You know, you won't find her by just sulking here and gazing at every brunette that walks past. You gotta move,” she challenges, her tone equal parts bored and encouraging.

Kate, in her slightly inebriated state, adds with a giggle, “Yeah, go get her, tiger!”

“It's not that easy, you know,” you sigh, brooding over your drink. “Plus, what if she's not even interested?”

Yelena's smirk is almost predatory. “From what I saw? Trust me, she's interested. Now go.”

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the booth. Steeling yourself, you start weaving your way through the crowd, using your slightly sober advantage to maneuver past intoxicated dancers. You scan every corner and table as you walk past, even though there's a nagging feeling in your gut that she might have already left the club.

It’s after what feels like an eternity that you spot a familiar cascade of brunette locks by the bar. She’s engaged in what appears to be an animated conversation with a tall, equally striking man. However, her posture—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around—suggests that she’s far from comfortable.

The protective instinct kicks in before you can talk yourself out of it. Closing the distance, you position yourself between her and the persistent guy, offering her a way out. “Hey there,” you say, smoothly, your voice loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “I've been looking for you. Sorry I'm late.”

She catches on immediately, her relief evident as she steps closer to you, away from the guy. “There you are! I was starting to worry,” she plays along, giving you a swift kiss on the cheeks that has your eyes widening for a second and breaking character. Thankfully, the guy doesn’t notice your blunder, and sensing he's lost this battle, scowls and retreats into the crowd.

Turning to her, you can't help the grin that finds its way to your face. “Sorry for that, I wanted to help, but I didn’t also want to cause any trouble.”

She smiles back, her eyes gleaming in the club lights. “Thank you for the save. I was about to resort to more drastic measures.”

The banter between you flows naturally, the awkward ice broken by the unusual circumstance of your first interaction. “I'm Y/N,” you offer, extending a hand.

“Wanda,” she says, taking your hand. Her grip is firm and her hand warm against yours. It sends a jolt of electricity up your arm. Only now do you notice her eyes, the shade of green in them, and the way they reveal so much yet nothing at all. Just like that, you fall a little deeper into her trap.

“Wanda,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue as if trying it out. Your smile broadens instinctively, and she catches it, her nose scrunching up bashfully.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just think it's a beautiful name. Fits someone as beautiful as you.”

She blushes, and you can't help but inwardly high five yourself for making her smile like that. She looks away for a moment, trying to hide her smile but fails miserably, and you find it endearing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her eyes meeting yours once more, a shy smile on her lips.

The night unfolds seamlessly from there. You find a quiet corner away from the crowd, where the music is a distant thump, allowing conversation to flow freely.

“So, when did you start drumming?” Wanda asks, leaning in a bit, genuinely seeming interested in your answer. You try your best to stay calm as you feel the heat radiate from her body.

“Believe it or not, I started a bit late, around twelve,” you reply, smiling at the memory of your younger self, awkwardly trying to grasp the drumsticks. “But I played the guitar first, picked it up when I was just five.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wow, so you're a multi-instrumentalist?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but can't help the proud grin that creeps onto your face. “Something like that. But I mainly stick to drums in the band.”

She tilts her head, her eyes shining with interest. “Why don't you play the guitar for the band then?”

“Natasha's better than me on the guitar. She's got this incredible flair and finesse. I mean, I'm good, but she's... amazing.”

Wanda nods, absorbing the information, “I've heard her play, she really is. But I'm sure you're just as great.”

You laugh, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, taking a sip of your drink, you add, “Playing the guitar actually helps a lot when I'm writing our songs.”

“Wait, you write the songs?”

“Most of them,” you confirm, trying to sound as modest as you can be. “It's a collaborative effort, of course. But yeah, having a knowledge of multiple instruments, especially the guitar, helps lay the foundation for many of our tracks.”

Wanda looks at you, clearly impressed. “That's incredible, Y/N. No wonder your music feels so... personal. It's like you're telling a story with every song.”

“You’ve listened to our songs before?” you ask, mildly surprised.

Wanda nods sheepishly, as if caught harboring a guilty secret. “I might have, a few times... I definitely came here tonight to see you guys perform.”

She then places a hand on your knee, and all at once, your throat feels parched. She scoots closer to you, to speak directly into your ear. “I wish I could see you play the guitar for me.”

You swallow hard. Her suggestion has certainly crossed your mind several times throughout the conversation. “Actually,” you begin, trying to steady your voice, “we keep our instruments in the back of the van. If you're interested, I could... play something for you?”

Wanda pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, looking like she wasn’t expecting you to actually agree to give her a private performance. “Really? Now?”

You nod, then stand and extend your hand to her, grinning. “Ready for a show?”

This isn’t exactly the kind of show you had in mind when you led Wanda to the back of the van. But you’re just twenty seconds into the new song you’ve been working on when she grabs your face with both hands and draws you in for a ferocious kiss. It’s a kiss that you haven’t tasted in a while—completely unrestrained.

You're lucky the drum set hasn't been loaded up yet, and with Bucky's keyboard being used by the current band onstage, there's just the right amount of space. Taking advantage, you push Wanda onto her back without breaking away from the kiss.

You pull away just enough to ask, “Are you sure?” while Wanda starts to slide your jacket down your arms.

Wanda nods impatiently, tracing her tongue along the underside of your chin, clearly enjoying the reaction she provokes.

“Was that a yes?” you prod, sitting up. Wanda sighs, albeit a bit irritably, only because you're suddenly out of her reach, before she collects herself enough to answer, “Yes, Y/N, I'm sure.”

“It's just that... I usually don’t do this,” you confess, looking down in embarrassment.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure Wanda can hear it, especially with the way she's studying you intently. You can feel the heat creep up your neck, coloring your cheeks a deep shade of pink. This isn't typically your scene, and you wonder if she's regretting her decision.

But then, with a move that’s smooth and tender, Wanda slides her fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Her eyes aren't filled with judgment or mockery, but with genuine understanding and something else you can't quite place.

“I find it... sexy,” she murmurs. “It’s refreshing, actually. Everything about you feels genuine. It's rare to find someone not playing games.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. That wasn't the reaction you'd been expecting.

She smirks a little at your expression, that hint of mischief returning. “Did you think admitting you're a little inexperienced would scare me off? If anything, it makes this even more exciting.”

“I'm not exactly 'inexperienced',” you argue with a bashful smile.

Her voice drops to a whisper, making your breath catch, and she inches just a bit closer. “I'm sure about this, Y/N. The back of a van might not be a romantic scene from a movie, but…” she breathes, and then she makes sure you feel every word she’s going to say next being spoken in your ear. “But right now? I swear, I might just go crazy if you don't touch me.”

Her statement stokes the fire between your legs and acting on the pull you feel, you lean in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before capturing her lips with yours. Wanda lets out a soft, sultry moan as you deepen the kiss, your tongue boldly seeking entrance. She grants it, and you're immediately intoxicated, not just by the taste of the vodka she's been sipping on, but by Wanda herself. The way she feels, the way she responds—it's all consuming.

She tilts her head, granting you better access, and you take the opportunity to explore every inch of her mouth. The gentle tang of the alcohol is present but overshadowed by her own unique flavor, which is even more intoxicating. You can feel her hands resting on your shoulders, fingers gripping you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Wanda's breath hitches sharply as you confidently take charge. You yank her shirt off in one quick move, and she's laid bare under the soft street lights. Outside, some party is still in full swing, but in here, it's all about the uninhibited hunger between the two of you.

You slip your fingers to the back of her bra, fumbling just a moment before unhooking it, revealing her. Not wasting any time, you dive in, taking her nipple in your mouth, savoring it. The sensation drives her wild, and she arches her back, pushing herself deeper against you with a throaty moan.

Her fingers grip your hair, guiding and sometimes just pulling when she needs more. Every sound she makes, every pull of her fingers, gets you more revved up. It's intense, it's messy, but it's all too real.

As your hands venture lower, you notice her pupils dilate and her breathing grow uneven.

“You still sure?” you whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. She responds with a desperate whine, pressing her hips closer to yours.

“Use your words, baby girl,” you murmur, nipping at her pulse point.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she answers breathlessly. “Please, Y/N.”

Your fingers playfully glide over her entrance, teasing her, “So wet for me,” you marvel, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. Your fingers dip inside her just slightly, pulling back out to further tease her.

“It's too bad I don't have my strap with me,” you groan, grinding against her thigh, letting her feel how turned on you are. “You'd look so pretty, taking it all.”

Her breathing hitches, “God, I wish you had it too.”

Wanda’s whines intensify, a sweet sound of pure desperation, as you suddenly remove your fingers from her. “Why did you—” she starts to complain, but you silence her with a searing kiss.

“I want to see all of you,” you murmur against her lips. Her skirt is the next target, and you fumble with the zipper, eager to remove the barrier between your hands and her skin. However, as you're about to pull down her underwear, a thought strikes you. Looking around the back of the van, you remember how it's been used for hauling equipment, and the floor isn't exactly pristine.

Thinking quickly, you grab your jacket and lay it out beneath her, ensuring she's on a cleaner surface. “Always got to take care of my girl,” you wink at her, trying to lighten the moment.

“Your girl?” Wanda echoes, her eyes half-lidded, a playful smile curling on her lips.

You realize your slip-up a beat too late, but then, her underwear and skirt are swiftly discarded, and she lies there, beautifully exposed to your hungry gaze.

“You're breathtaking,” you whisper in awe.

She flushes under your gaze. “I could say the same for you,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes roam her body, the soft curves and inviting skin, particularly where she's most sensitive. But you've always been one for asking.

“Can I taste you?” The question leaves your lips, whispered against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver.

She responds with a needy, “Yes, please,” and bites her bottom lip, arching her hips slightly, as if laying herself bare for your indulgence.

You don't waste any more time. Shuffling down, you position yourself between her legs, the aromatic scent of her arousal filling your senses. Carefully, you part her folds with your fingers, your tongue darting out to collect the first taste. The first touch of your tongue against her wetness draws a sharp inhale from her, followed by a moan that has your ears burning from how shameless it sounds.

Your tongue swirls around her swollen nub, establishing a pattern that has her thighs clenching around your head. “Fucky, right there,” she groans, her hips thrusting up, eager to meet each glide and flick of your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth paired with her whimpers urge you to sneak a hand beneath your jeans, seeking relief for your own building tension.

Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if she's trying to mold you to her. “More, right there... Oh, god!” she cries out, providing the exact guidance you need.

Amused by her reactions, you intentionally draw out a slurping sound as your tongue dives deeper, making Wanda retreat, but you abandon your own need for release to grab her ass and pull her back to your mouth.

“Y/N, please, please, I’m—”

“You like that, don't you?” you tease, voice husky with lust. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

She keens, a desperate sound, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair. You're relentless, enjoying every second of her unraveling, and she's close—so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Wanda?” you growl, lost in the intoxicating taste of her, pressing your tongue deeper, seeking out every intimate spot that makes her body jolt and writhe above you. Her voice breaks into a high-pitched cry, “Y/N! I'm—I'm—” and you feel her climax, her entire body shaking with the force of it, her wetness dripping from your chin down to your throat, drenching you in the process.

Wanda's gasps fill the space as she shudders, the aftershocks of her orgasm leaving her body trembling. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you take in the sight of her, completely spent and vulnerable. She squirms beneath your mouth, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. “Too much,” she pants, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her plea, you continue your ministrations, lips and tongue working in tandem, driving her to the brink once more. As you feel her tensing up, preparing to escape your relentless assault, you slip two fingers inside her, feeling the tight clench of her around you. The unexpected intrusion steals her breath and the fight from her limbs, her resistance melting under your touch.

“You want more, don't you?” you murmur before your lips find her clit again.

The van is starting to smell like sex. You know you'll have to do something about this later, but for now, you can't bring yourself to care as you take in every detail of the naked girl before you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for Wanda, teetering on the edge of pain, but she feels another climax building deep inside her.

“Y/N!” she cries, her grip on your hair tightening, her back arching. “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!”

You don't stop, doubling your efforts, fingers and tongue working in sync, driving her up and beyond any point she's ever known. Suddenly, there's a gush, wetter and warmer than before, surprising you both. You pull back slightly, and she looks down, mortified. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she tries to squirm out from beneath you.

“I'm so sorry... I—” Wanda stammers, scrambling to hide her face in her hands.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smirk forming on your lips. “Wanda, that was... incredibly hot.”

She looks away, still trying to process what just happened. “I didn’t... I've never...”

Sitting up, you gently cup her face, making her look at you. “Hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, trying to reassure her. “Don't be embarrassed. I'm honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to let go completely.”

She gives a shaky laugh, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your chest. “I can't believe you made me do that on the first try.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to be able to,” you say with a chuckle, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

She blushes for a moment, then says, “I noticed you didn’t... you know. Do you want me to...?”

“Next time,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I need to make sure this van doesn’t end up as evidence of our... activities.” You wink, earning a soft giggle from her.

“Besides, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you fall apart because of me,” you add, mischievously wetting your lips.

She blushes, playfully swatting at your arm. “You're impossible.”

You were the first to step out of the van, offering Wanda a moment of privacy to get dressed. When she finally emerges, she leans on you for support. “I can't feel my legs,” she jokes, struggling a bit. She hands you your jacket which you'd forgotten, helping you slip it on. Immediately, the scent of her hits you, reminding you that she had climaxed twice on that very fabric.

Before you can dwell on the thought, a man approaches Wanda. It’s the same guy from earlier, the one she was arguing with at the bar. You instinctively square your shoulders, ready to step in between them, protectively, but Wanda halts you with a hand on your chest.

“Pietro!” Wanda exclaims, letting out an exasperated sigh as she utters her brother's name. You halt, puzzled.

She knows this guy?

Pietro looks at Wanda, then at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “You ready to go, Wanda?” he asks, clearly impatient.

She turns to you, giving you a soft, apologetic smile. “Y/N, this is my brother, Pietro.”

You swallow dryly, offering a somewhat clammy hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro just eyes your hand, perhaps connecting the dots from earlier. Feeling like an idiot, you quickly pull your hand back, subtly rubbing it against your pants. He departs without another word, muttering to Wanda, “I'll be in the car. Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Wanda watches Pietro go, her smile fading a bit. Turning back to you, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, about earlier,” she starts, biting her lower lip nervously. “I might have, um... staged that whole fight thing to get your attention. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but he played along.” Her eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze.

You blink, processing her confession. Before you can come up with any coherent response, she giggles at the dumbfounded expression on your face. “I really have to go,” she says.

And then, before you can react, she plants a featherlight kiss on your cheek. The warmth of it lingers on your skin as she steps back, her eyes holding yours for a long, sweet moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening under the soft moonlight. “Tonight was... unexpected, but amazing.”

And with that, she turns and hurries off to where Pietro is waiting for her by a parked car. You stand there, feeling the spot on your cheek where her lips touched, watching her until she hops into the car and drives off into the night. It’s only after the car disappears around the bend that you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to ask for her number. With a sigh, you turn back to your van, resigned to cleaning up.

The chill of the night settles in, and when you slip your hands into your jacket pockets, your fingers catch a scrap of paper. It feels out of place, foreign to the usual belongings you stash in there. You pull it out, and to your surprise, it's a receipt. The drinks listed there jog a memory: an alcoholic cocktail offered to you earlier in the night which you politely declined, and the tangy lemonade that followed right after.

Realization dawns on you. Wanda had been orchestrating things all night. You flip the receipt over and your heart skips a beat. Scrawled at the back in a neat, cursive handwriting is her number, accompanied by a simple message: “Call me soon.”

Grinning like a fool, you grab a cloth and some disinfectant from the compartment. Cleaning the back of a van has never felt this satisfying.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #yelena belova #kate bishop #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff smut #fic request

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

Text

Title: Uncertain and Sure Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 550

Summary: Immediate follow up to Desperate. The moments after you're retrieved from the safehouse.

Content Warnings: insecurity, brief reference to past kidnapping and sex pollen ordeal

Notes: No one really asked for this (at least not recently), but the idea of it was inspired by an ask @sergeantbarnessdoll sent me with a gif of a certain kissing scene featuring one Sebastian Stan. Good lord that man can kiss. Written spur of the moment.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You fidgeted with the zipper on the standard-issue jacket you’d changed into at the safehouse while Sam and Bucky radioed into the home office in New York. It wasn’t your first quinjet ride, but it was your first ride – first anything – after having spent an intense twelve hours with Bucky Barnes where he let you use him to get over a sex pollen infection, confessed deeper feelings for each other, and then explored the new intimacy of that connection physically and emotionally in the safehouse.

“Strap in,” Sam turned and reminded you before slipping into the pilot seat while Bucky adjusted the navigation from the co-pilot seat.

You nodded and took your spot in one of the jump seats. You felt the intensity of Bucky’s look before your eyes flickered up to meet his. Looking over his shoulder, he gave you a tight-lipped smile, and you returned it, your chest tightening as he looked away. You told yourself it was the pull of the quinjet’s liftoff, not any insecurity creeping into your mind.

After shuffling you into the shower to clean up, Bucky had encouraged you to sleep when you hadn’t been otherwise engaged, but your body was still so tired. Your eyes closed, and you let your head fall back against the seat. Bucky had reassured you that was to be expected after everything you’d been through, that from his limited but field-reliable expertise you seemed to be through the worst of it but that the medical team would examine you when you got back, and that you would recover after more rest, but you still hated how exhausted your body felt. Weak.

Weak and strung out and vulnerable.

Uncertain.

You gasped and your eyes flew open when a warm hand covered yours.

“Hey,” Bucky soothed. Kneeling in front of you, he brought his vibranium hand up to cup your cheek.

Damn Bucky and his Winter Soldier or White Wolf silent approach skills.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

“The look on your face had me worried. I need you to know, I’m not going anywhere. What I said and what we did – what we shared – at the safehouse after the pathogen had cleared your system? That wasn’t just getting caught up in the fallout of a mission for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

And you saw the depth of feeling in his eyes. He meant it. The unease in your chest began to fall away, and that must have registered on your face, because his expression softened.

Bucky brought his other hand up, and then cradling your head in both hands, he leaned in for a sound kiss. His lips claimed yours unapologetically, and you sunk into the kiss. Warmth, want, safety, desire. You felt all of it immediately.

A low whistle interrupted your kiss, and Sam hollered, “I knew it! I told Steve y’all were made for each other!”

“Yeah right,” Bucky argued.

“Took you two long enough to get out of your own damn way,” Sam responded, and you laughed.

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but you put your hand on his cheek and turned his head back to you. “Never mind him,” you said, “just give me another kiss and then go make sure we get home, Barnes.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to yours again.

READ THE NEXT ROMP WITH THIS COUPLE: INSATIABLE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #aspen wrote something #bucky barnes fanfic #desperate verse

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imaginesbymonika · 1 month

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LOML- loss of my life | Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Plot: You knew him at a time when he didn't, and now he is looking for you...

Warnings: depiction of violence, angst, mentions of (perhaps) death, angst, fluff at the end (maybe), takes place after TFATWS

Bucky didn't like to think back to the years when he was working for Hydra. No matter how many times people named him a victim, an instrument - it didn't change the fact that he was operating for them. Going on those missions- slaughtering hundreds of people. Innocent fucking civilians. He couldn't possibly look past that. His therapist informed him that this kind of mindset is what's keeping him from fully recovering.

Maybe she was right about that.

Perhaps that was the root of his never-ending nightmares. The ones where he can still smell the blood whenever he wakes up in a cold sweat. Where he stares down at his hands, and for a split second he can catch a glimpse of their blood. Or maybe it is his blood. He lost track of that a long time ago.

A couple of months ago he had read a psychology book where someone argued that memories are primarily silent. And he couldn’t have thrown that book any faster against the closest wall. Because fuck whoever wrote that piece of crap. He’d be happy if for once he couldn’t hear the screaming of his victims, their begging and crying…followed by his metal arm making this eerie sound whenever it crushed someone’s spine into little pieces.

Bucky takes a deep breath. God, how he yearned and wished for silence. But then again, God has abandoned him a while ago.

His dreams only consist of flashbacks. Please, I have children waiting for me at home! Stop, stop, that hurts! Your work is fundamental for mankind! Oh my god, please stop! Make this stop, please! My oldest is 7! Please, don’t forget that you’re still human underneath it all. Bucky’s eyes open and when he sits up he can not stop gasping for air. Please, don’t forget you’re still human underneath it all.

He inspects his worn out features in the mirror. When had he started to dream of her? When did she manage to tiptoe her way into this hellfire of memories? What was her name again?

You slightly flinched when Pierce's hand made contact with The Winter Soldier’s cheek. The sound echoed through the empty corridors of the facility. And her gaze quickly drops to her clipboard. Everybody around her was silent, staring at either the long-haired man or the one in the suit. Pierce looked beyond furious before his eyes fell on you and he cleared his throat:” What are you writing down.”

Fuck. You took a deep breath, and quickly improved your posture:” I am just documenting the bruising, Sir.” The older man hummed and furrowed his eyebrows:” Let me see.” Out of nowhere, he snatched the clipboard out of your hands. You slightly groan at the burning sensation the plastic left on your skin. The entire time, you were able to feel The Winter Soldier's eyes on you. How you loathed this job. But you needed to remind yourself that you didn’t have much of a choice, whether or not you wanted to be there. For almost three years, you were one of the top physicians at NYC’s best hospital. Then one evening, while you were walking back to your car, you got kidnapped. You-

“Bucky?”, Sam’s voice brings him back into the present: “Are you still with me?” There is a playfulness to his voice. One that quickly disappears, once Sam notices the look on his friend’s face. And for a few seconds, the two men just look at one another, before Bucky shakes his head:” Yeah no. I’m fine.”

“You’re gone a lot these days.”

Bucky tilts his head and blinks in perplexity:” What’s that supposed to mean? We have been working on this case together since last week, we-.”

“Mentally, Bucky.”, Sam cuts him off and brings his cup of coffee up to his lips. And he can detect an emotion in Bucky’s eyes that tells him he struck a nerve. There is a heavy silence filling the kitchen before Sam speaks up again, his voice gentle and understanding:” Where are you going?”

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #the winter solider imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #sebastian stan

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agirlwhodreamsandwishes · 7 months

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Never again

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you feel like you are not worthy of being part of the avengers, you discover someone who thinks exactly the opposite.

a/n. So, this is my first fanfic :). I would really appreciate if you tell me if you liked and your opinions about it! I hope I don't dissapoint anyone! Any advice would be appreciated. And please, remember English is not my first language.

Word count: 1.5k

Fluff, shy Bucky.

As a new avenger everything was hard for you. Not because the rest of the team wasn’t nice or understanding with you, but because of all the pressure you had to go through. Everyone in the city was looking at you all the time, at the new girl, questioning every move you made. Why wouldn’t they? You are the novelty, something new to talk about after a calm period of time. You were there for six months and you were already stressed.

“Hey Y/N, you okay? You seem off.” You heard Wanda asking as she looked at you with a frown. You had made friends; Sam and Wanda were immediately your favorite people in the team since the first time you arrived, always so welcoming and nice. But you never tell them how you really felt; you didn’t want to be a bother, they all had their own worries and you didn’t want to be another one to add to the list. “Yeah! I’m just tired, I couldn’t sleep last night.” You try to fake a smile hoping she would buy it and stop asking.

Every day at night you go on a walk by a little beach near the compound— your safe place, a moment of peace in which you let your feelings out, crying while nobody is watching or listening to you. At least, you don’t think anyone notices your daily routine, you think you’re being cautious. But that’s not the case, there’s one person who has been watching you since almost the first time— Bucky Barnes, the cold and sometimes rude super soldier.

Bucky Barnes was stunned the first time you met him, but you thought he didn’t care about you. He looked at you when you introduced yourself, nodded and left the room. You almost cried. Why was he that rude? The truth was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you met him you didn’t look scared of him nor you didn’t seem to hate him. You were like a ray of sunshine, smiling and being nice. He couldn’t allow himself to be near you, he didn’t deserve you. But he started to notice your nightly walks and he couldn’t allow you to go alone. What if something happened to you? No, no, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Bucky suffered each time he saw you cry, but he didn’t want to interfere, thinking you wouldn't want him near. So he tried to cheer you up from a safe distance. You received flowers (sunflowers, because they reminded him of you), your favorite candies and, even once, a book you wanted to read for a few weeks before he sent it to you. You didn’t know who was buying those things for you, you thought you had some fan like the other avengers had.

“Hey! Sam! Look what I received today! Someone sent me some candles! They smell amazing!” Sam chuckled at your excitement looking discreetly at his super soldier best friend, who was sitting at the sofa, peeking at you from behind the book he was reading. “Y/N, that fan of yours must really like you a lot, doesn’t it look like that, Bucky?” Of course, he knew his friend, and he knew Bucky was head over heels for you. “Yeah, sure.” Bucky hid himself again behind the book, not before sending a death glare to his friend. You blush, realizing in that exact moment that he was there. You might have developed a tiny crush on him. Well, maybe not that tiny, but he was so handsome. And even though he barely talked to you, you loved when you saw him laughing and joking with Sam and Steve. It was a rare but beautiful sight.

It was night again, and the day had been really hard for you, you had made a mistake that caused the loss of some important files. The team was able to recover them, but still, you felt awful. It was like you only failed again and again. That night, you started walking by your comfort beach but you couldn’t see through all the tears falling down your eyes; it was too much. You sat in the sand and started crying; you couldn’t stop.

You felt strong arms wrapping you. “I’m here.” You could recognise that voice anywhere. Bucky was there, with you, hugging you and telling you that he was there for you. You hugged him tight while crying more and more, while he caressed your hair. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.”

When you calmed yourself, you didn’t want to move, you were too embarrassed to do something. Not only had someone seen you crying, but that someone was Bucky Barnes himself. “Y/N? Do you feel better now?”

You nod and look at him, your face completely red. He chuckles when he sees how embarrassed you are. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m here for you if you need me.”

“I… I feel awful. What I did today… it could’ve ended really badly, Bucky. I’m only a burden; I don’t belong here. People are watching me fail everyday at something. I can’t anymore.” You try to not start crying again but you fail.

“Don’t say that That’s completely false, Y/N. You’re really important here. You don’t realize how helpful you are here.” He hugs you again and kisses your forehead while you keep crying.

“Do you really believe that? I’m not that relevant; I’ve been here for six months.” You look at him again, still blushing.

“Don’t you realize how much we need you? It’s not only the fact that you are an amazing agent, it’s also because you always have a smile on your face, always smiling. You are always there when someone needs something, willing to help. You don’t want anyone to suffer, but you suffer alone. The team would not survive without you. I wouldn’t survive without you.” He whispered that last sentence and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were still hugging and you were so close to him, you would’ve missed it.”

“What?” You blushed again. “Bucky, what do you mean?”

It’s his turn to blush, as he ignores your question. “You know, it’s not the first time I see you here… I just didn’t want to bother you. It seemed like you wanted to be alone and… yeah, today… I couldn’t just stare and do nothing.”

“I appreciate it. I really do. I needed that hug.” You look straight in his eyes. “But can you answer my question, please?” You saw how he avoided your eyes and blushed more. You then realize that he hadn’t let you go off his arms, and you blush as you start to chuckle because you two look like idiots.

“Are you really gonna make me answer that? Can we ignore it, please?” He knew he’d have to answer but he didn’t want to.

“Yes, please.” You now looked at him with a serious expression and he realized that this was his chance, he was going to tell you how he feels about you.

“Okay, but please don’t interrupt me, I need to say this quickly” You nodded. “Y/N, I… since the fist time I saw you, you live rent free in my mind. You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. You truly are light; you bring sun to the darkest days. You remind me of a sunflower. When you started walking at night, I started too; I couldn’t let anything happen to you. When I saw you crying every night… my heart broke in a million pieces, I wanted to help you, be there for you everytime you needed me. But I didn’t know if you would’ve wanted me to be with you, I know that we are not that close, and I feel it’s my fault.” You didn’t know what to say; you stared at him in shock.

“Bucky, why? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Why didn’t you talk to me? Or tried to be my friend?” You were trapped in his eyes, so blue you thought you could drown in them.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I… I have something to confess. The flowers, the candles… It was me.” He looked away from your eyes.

“Look at me, Bucky, please.” He looked at you, then at your lips. The tension was palpable. You looked at his lips and then up at his eyes. When you saw the way he’s looking at you, you felt at home, safe. You had never felt as loved as in that moment. So you did it. You kissed him and the world stopped. It was just both of you; nothing else mattered. You felt safe with him and you knew you’d never be alone again.

“Bucky? I don’t want to do this walks alone again.” He laughed and wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your forehead.

“Never again, love, never again”.

#bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes

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