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Summary : The more the king tries to hide the truth, the more suspicious it makes you. And lying to someone who is desperate for answers, only serves the purpose of making them willing to work even harder to get to the core of the secret.
Word Count : 4.1k
A/N : I'm sorry this took a month to write but the next chapter is almost written and will be out sooner than this one.
Thank you for your patience.
Prev chapter l Series masterlist l Next chapter
The palace was the darkest place in the kingdom of hydra.
The air here always felt wrong. It has felt that way since you came here as a kid. From where? you didn't know. Just that one day you opened your eyes to several men staring at you with antiseptic herbs in their hands and looking at your horrified face through jeweled glasses trying to corroborate what's wrong with you.
Your father had found you then. Rushing into the room with all the urgency of a king going to his weaponry before leaving for war.
He had clutched you close almost immediately. Whispering soothing words to your disoriented ears.
His words lay unprecedented to you as he ushered you to speak and you asked him why you were here.
The look on his face, as you still remember it today, was of pure horror. Your own child not recognising you, asking who they were must have done immense damage to his old heart that had spent years serving the kingdom and only now had received the joy of having a kid.
His fortune, like most Kings had been limited to wealth and warships and army and arsenal. But never did it extend itself onto his wives, none of whom could bear children until you.
Your mother had diedâgiving birth to youâof a rare condition that years later the doctors would recognise as hemorrhage but the healers at the time were incapable of saving her. Limited by the medicine and knowledge of their time.
And so, Hydra, despite being the pioneer of medicine and advancements in the fields of war and politics worldwide, could not save its own queen.
Such was the irony of the King's life, yearning for a child all his life and losing the dear wife who gave him the greatest gift of all before she herself got to relish in the joy of being a mother and leaving the said desired kid for him to raise.
But the gods willed his misfortune to not end there. And you, at the tender age of five had fallen sick to an anonymous disease that once again no healers in the country could neither identify nor cure.
He had gone to the ends of the oceans to find the best of healers for you when you fell sick.
The treatment had left you frail and fragile, or so your father believed when you didnât recognise him after waking up from the fever induced slumber you had fallen into for weeks.
And such was your condition now. You were the princess. The person of highest power after the king himself. The sole heir to the huge kingdom and its wealth. Yet you were a prisoner of your own body.
You couldnât leave the castle because of the danger of enemies attacking you. You couldnât go to the woods becuase of the dangerous wildlife there. The gardens were too dangerous because the plants may spike an allergic reaction. The armoury was out of limits because your body was too fragile for too much physical effort.
They said books would interest you instead. That youâd have maids for friends. That there would be an abundunce of jewellery and cosmetics and artifacts to entertain you. That you should rather study court tactics and politics and peace treaties instead.
And that was how all the traces of your identity before you were crowned the princess have remained buried beneath the weight of the crown and responsibilities that became bars of the enclosure that is your life as a princess ever since.
Because having power and having knowledge are one thing. Having freedom is another. Since despite having the skill to rule out the judgement of s case based on your own conscience, you would have to rely on your fatherâs interests when it came to giving verdict.
Such was the irony of your royal life.
The crown that everyone desires, the one that stares back when you look in the mirror is made of thorns, each one digging into your skull with every desicion you have made as the authority of this kingdom that you knew was morally incorrect but beneficial to your father so you made it.
And within the depths of your heart, you knew that the mystery behind the prisonerâthe man labelled as beastâwas an ugly truth that he was there not because he desrved it but because he was victim of the kingâs grand schemes.
At some level, you respected your father, you really did, knowing how well the kingdom has flourished in his reign, knowing how much he had to sacrifice for his subjects and at what cost the peace in the kigdom was achived and maintained.
What you didnât enjoy was that every good thing in this land had been recieved at the cost of his morals, his conscience.
And even though you might not know war and politics as well as he did but you knew this much, that a kingdom which is reigning at the expense of innocent lives, doesnât last very long.
And after todayâs occurences, after getting caught by rumlow outside the prison, you knew what the next morning will bring.
But this time, you knew one thing for sure, that you would not let anyoneâs scheming run over your conscience. For you had answers to find. And you would get those answers, whatevr it might take.
The summons arrived before breakfast. You had scarcely slept. Again. The image of the silver cell lingering stubbornly in your thoughts.
The prisoner.
The Winter Soldier.
The man from your dreams.
Every time you attempted to think of something else, your mind wandered back to the underground chamber. To the shock in his eyes. To the pain behind his sileence.
To the recognition in his eyes, that said he knew you but before you could ask how, the night had ended and you were left yearning for knowledge, yet again.
A maid informed you the first thing in the morning that His Majesty wished to see you immediately. Which was never a promising beginning to any morning.
But you went. Because what else was there for you to do than follow the kingâs orders and be a good obedient wife for the man he chose for you.
The royal audience chamber awaited at the heart of the palace. Its high vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadow above, while sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows depicting kings long dead. Banners hung between marble columns. Gold gleaming everywhere.
Normally the grandeur soothed you. Today it felt suffocating.
Your father sat on the throne, untouched by the gravity of your desperation. The king's expression, stern.
The sight alone made your stomach sink.
Brock stood beside him, soft smile masking the evil behind his eyes. His expression was far worse than the king. Polite and controlled. Almost pleasant. The sort of pleasantness that never reached his eyes. The sort that always made you uneasy.
You curtsied. "Your Majesty."
Neither man invited you to sit. An unfortunate sign.
The room remained silent.
Your father stood up, folding his hands behind his back. "You were found near the lower dungeons last night."
Straight to the point.
You swallowed. "Iâ"
"We are not asking whether it occurred." His voice cut across yours. "We know it occurred."
The words settled heavily in the chamber. You looked briefly toward Brock. His expression remained perfectly composed. Yet there was satisfaction hidden beneath it. A quiet satisfaction.
As though he had expected this outcome and he was enjoying it.
Your father continued. "The lower dungeons are forbidden." You remained silent, knowing better than to talk over him. "The passages beneath the palace are not places for a princess."
"They are dangerous."
You thought of the man locked within a silver cage, then the words used for him. Dangerous. The word felt strangely misplaced.
Before you could stop yourself, you said quietlyâ "He didn't seem dangerous."
A stupid desicion.
The moment the words escaped your mouth, both men froze. The silence that followed felt enormous.
Brock was the first to speak. "You saw him." Not a question. A statement. His voice had become colder.
You lifted your chin slightly. "Yes."
Your father closed his eyes briefly. As though you had just confirmed his worst fears. "You spoke with the prisoner?"
"No."
That at least was true.
"Then count yourself fortunate." Your father's tone hardened. "You know nothing of what resides beneath this castle."
You wanted to laugh. Because that was precisely the problem. Nobody would tell you anything. Nobody ever told you anything. "Then perhaps someone should explain it."
The words slipped out before caution could stop them. The king's expression darkened. Brock's eyes narrowed.
You pressed forward anyway.
Because for once you were tired. Tired of secrets. Tired of being treated like a child. Tired of everyone deciding what you should know.
"What has he done?" you asked.
Neither answered.
"What crime deserves that?"
Still nothing.
You could feel your frustration growing. "He isn't a beast the city makes him out to be." Your father's jaw tightened. "He is a prisoner."
"He is dangerous."
"How?"
Brock stepped forward. "That is not your concern."
Something inside you snapped becuase for once you'd had enough of being dismissed. Enough of being ignored.
"Everything in this kingdom becomes my concern eventually." The words emerged sharper than intended.
A mistake.
Immediately you saw both men's expressions change. Your father looked horrified. Brock looked offended.
"My lady," Brock said carefully, "you would do well to remember your station."
You stared at him. "My station?"
"Indeed." His voice remained smooth. Controlled. Almost gentle. Which somehow made it worse. "You need not concern yourself with matters of governance."
You blinked. "I am to be queen. And the matters that are related to my kingdom, become my concern, eventually"
"Eventually." He repeated, smile never leaving his face. "But there are matters best left to those equipped to understand them."
The patronizing tone made heat rush to your cheeks. You knew precisely what he was saying. A pretty princess. A future wife. Not someone meant to ask questions. Not someone meant to think.
You looked toward your father. Waiting. Hoping. Surely he would object. Surely he wouldâ"Your betrothed speaks wisely."
The disappointment hit harder than you expected. Your father continued. "There is a reason these matters are kept from you."
"Because nobody trusts me."
"No."
His voice sharpened. "Because you are young."
You nearly laughed. Young. Old enough to be married. Old enough to produce heirs. Old enough to represent an entire kingdom. Yet apparently not old enough to ask questions.
The absurdity of it stung.
âI might be young, your majesty. But i am not foolishâ Your words now had a bite to them that you didnât bother hiding âAnd I might not know what crimes the prisoner has done to be kept in that dungeonâ You stepped forward, a show of power that made both men freeze âBut I know for a fact that no crime is heinous enough to deserve suffering of that sortâ
"Enough." Your father's voice echoed through the chamber. âKeep talking back and you shall face consequencesâ
You fell silent. The king took a long breath. Then spoke in the formal tone he used during decrees. "The matter is settled."
Your stomach dropped. "You are forbidden from entering the lower dungeons again." The words rang like chains locking into place. "You will not approach them."
"You will not inquire further."
"You will not speak of the prisoner."
Your hands clenched, trying to hide the tremor in them.
Brock added calmly, "And should curiosity tempt you again, I suggest you remember that queens must possess discipline."
Something about the statement made your chest ache. Not because it was cruel. Because it was dismissive. Because he spoke as though you belonged to him already.
As if your thoughts required his approval. As if your life had already been decided.
Your father nodded. "This discussion is concluded."
That was it. No explanation. No answers. No trust. Only orders.
You stood there for a moment. Looking between them. The king. Your father. The man who was supposed to protect you. The man who had once crossed oceans to find the best of healers for you. The man who now seemed more concerned with obedience than understanding.
Then Brock. Your future husband. The future king. A man who smiled often, yet somehow never made you feel warm. A man who spoke kindly, yet never made you feel heard.
Suddenly the audience chamber felt far too small. The walls too close. The air too thin. You curtsied stiffly, mostly because protocol demanded it. Before turning and walking away.
Quickly.
Before either man could see how much their words had hurt.
The doors slammed shut behind you. The sound echoed through the corridor. You didn't stop walking. Slippers struck the marble floor harder than was proper for a princess.
Servants scattered from your path. You barely noticed. Anger burned hot behind your eyes. Anger, frustation, sadness, confusion, all tangled together.
The entire palace suddenly felt like a gilded cage. Every hour planned. Every decision made for you. Every path chosen. Every question silenced.
You thought of the silver cell. The irony nearly made you laugh. The Winter Soldier sat imprisoned beneath the castle.
And yet, for one brief moment, looking into his eyes... You had felt less trapped than you did now.
The realization was terrifying.
You hurried down the corridor toward your chambers. Fighting the sting behind your eyes.
Because for the first time in your life, you found yourself wondering something dangerous. Not what was hidden beneath the castle. Not why the Winter Soldier appeared in your dreams.
But whether either of you were truly free at all. Because the great palace with all the luxury a person could ever need, was still a prison when it came at the cost your freedom.
The remainder of the day passed in a haze of resentment.
You remained within your chambers by choice, claiming a headache severe enough to excuse you from courtly obligations. No one questioned it.
Perhaps they believed your father's reprimand had upset you. Perhaps they simply preferred not to deal with a difficult princess. Either way, the solitude was welcome.
Rain had begun sometime after midday. Now evening shadows stretched across your chamber whilst droplets traced winding paths down the tall windowpanes.
You sat curled within the alcove beside the fire, a book lying forgotten in your lap. You had not turned a page in nearly an hour. Your thoughts refused to settle. Again and again your mind returned to the dungeon.
To the silver cage.
To the prisoner.
To those eyes.
The more you remembered, the less the stories made sense.
A monster.
A beast.
A creature so dangerous that ancient magic was required to contain him.
And yet...
You had seen no monster. You had seen a weary man sitting alone in a cell. A man who looked more sad than dangerous. A man whose first reaction upon seeing you had been shock rather than violence. A man who had warned you to flee when the guards approached.
The image stubbornly refused to align with the tales.
A knock interrupted your thoughts.
You frowned. "Enter."
The door opened and your stomach immediately tightened as brock stepped inside.
Of fucking course.
The future king looked immaculate as always. Dark clothing embroidered with silver thread. Hands clasped neatly behind his back. The image of control and composure.
The sort of man painters adored. The kind who never appeared ruffled by anything.
The door shut softly behind him. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Brock offered a small smile. "I feared you might still be upset."
You lowered your gaze to the book. "I am well."
A lie. An obvious one and he seemed to recognize it. But after the commotion you had caused in the assembly today, you didnât have it in you to be truthful.
He crossed the room slowly, and settled into the chair opposite yours. The fire crackled between you. And for a while he simply watched the flames. As though carefully considering his words.
Finally he sighed. "I did not come to argue." You remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt, "I know this morning was unpleasant."
His voice had softened considerably. Gentler than it had been before your father. "I understand why you are angry."
That almost made you laugh. He understood nothing. He never could. A prince who had grown up having others get accustomed to his desires so he wouldnât have to adjust, could never understand the princess who spent her days staying trapped in her room because her father was too afraid to let her outof his sight.
A commander who had armies bow to him and his questions answered before he even had to ask them, would never understand the misery of the lady whose pleas went unheard and her questions unanswered.
Still, you kept your expression neutral.
Brock leaned forward slightly. "You think we are keeping secrets from you."
You thought? No. You knew. Yet again you remained silent. There was no arguing with someone as arrogant as him when you knew he would never confess the truth.
"I suppose," he continued, "that from your perspective it must seem unfair."
His tone was patient. Kind. Reasonable.
The exact tone one might use when calming a frightened child. You hated it. You were no child, if anything your conscience worked better than their strategies but then again, men like him never bow to women likw you, who knew the power they hold for themselves.
"The truth is that we are trying to protect you."
There it was. Protection.
Such a lovely word.
Such a useful word.
Your king and his aide could justify almost anything with it. Protecting you from knowledge. Protecting you from choices. Protecting you from freedom.
Brock continued speaking. "The prisoner beneath the castle is not what he appears."
Despite yourself, your attention sharpened immediately.
"You've seen him."
You nodded once.
"Then you understand why the illusion exists."
Your brow furrowed. "Illusion?"
A flicker of emotion you couldnât quite place, passed through his eyes. The first sign of satisfaction. As though he had finally reached the point he'd come to make. "Yes."
He sat back. "The man you saw is not truly a man."
You stared at him.
Brock spoke carefully. Deliberately. As if he were reciting something rehearsed. "The creature beneath the castle is ancient. The oldest records describe him as a shapeshifter. A predator." he met your eyes before continuing, "A beast capable of taking whatever form best suits his purposes."
You thought of the dream. The white wolf. The river. The forest.
Your heartbeat quickened.
Brock noticed and mistook the reason for fear. "The magic surrounding his prison suppresses his true nature." He gestured vaguely. "The form you witnessed is part of that enchantment."
You frowned. "So you're saying he's pretending?"
"No." His smile returned. "The magic is pretending for him, supressing his powers enough so he can be tamed"
The explanation sounded convenient. Far too convenient. You had spent your entire life surrounded by politicians. You knew what half-truths sounded like.And this sounded remarkably similar.
Brock's voice softened further. "You are fortunate." Something in his tone made your skin crawl.
"Fortunate?"
"Very." The smile never wavered. "You were alone. Unprotected. If the enchantments had weakened..." He shook his head slowly. "As foolish as it sounds, you might not be sitting here now."
The statement lingered in the air. Waiting. Expecting fear. Perhaps gratitude. Perhaps obedience.
Instead you found yourself remembering something else. The look on the prisoner's face when the guards approached.
The urgency.
The concern.
The warning.
You remembered him urging you to leave. Not because he wished to hurt you. But because he feared what would happen if you were discovered.
That memory sat strangely beside Brock's story. Like two pieces from entirely different puzzles. But you have spent enough time reading books in archieves to know that the truth of a story merely depends on the person who is telling it.
And most certainly, this was brockâs perspective of the story but you couldnât unsee what you saw in that dungeon. Nor could you unhear the warnings given to you.
So you realised with frightening certainty that the only way out of this is to lie through it. To project an illusion of fear and obedeance, realistic enough that when you inevitably work toward finding the answers you want, nobody would suspect you.
So you asked quietly, letting your fingers fumble in your lap to show fear without saying it "Does he attack people?"
Brock hesitated. Just briefly. The pause was tiny, as if calculating the truthfullness of what he was seeing. âHe has."
Not yes. Not a direct answer. Merely he has. Another carefully chosen phrase.
You looked into the fire. Thinking.
The longer Brock spoke, the more certain you became that not only he was telling you merely his perspective of the story but also that he was telling you only enough truth to support a larger lie. Or perhaps a larger secret.
The realization settled heavily in your chest.
At last Brock stood. "I know you dislike being forbidden from things." His smile returned once more. Gentle and Practiced. "But someday you'll understand that not every locked door should be opened."
He stepped closer. Resting a hand lightly atop yours. You resisted the urge to pull away. "Trust me."
The words nearly made you laugh. Trust him?
A man who answered questions without answering them. A man who spoke of protection whilst hiding entire portions of the truth. A man who seemed more interested in controlling your curiosity than satisfying it.
Still you smiled. A small smile. Carefully crafted. The sort of smile expected from a princess. "I understand."
Relief flickered across his face. "You do?"
You nodded. "Yes."
Another lie. A much better one this time. "I was frightened after what happened."
Brock visibly relaxed. A good sign.
You lowered your eyes. Playing the obedient daughter. The obedient future queen. "The dungeon was a mistake."
"Exactly." His voice warmed immediately. "I am glad you see reason."
You nearly rolled your eyes. Instead you smiled again. "I do."
Satisfied, Brock squeezed your hand once before releasing it.
A few minutes later he left. The door closed behind him. Silence returned. You remained perfectly still until his footsteps vanished completely.
Then your smile disappeared. Instantly. You stared into the fire.
Thinking. Calculating. Scheming.
The prisoner wasn't a monster. Of that much you were now certain. Perhaps he was dangerous. Perhaps there were truths still hidden from you. But whatever secrets lay beneath the castle, they were not the simple story Brock wanted you to believe.
A beast. A curse. An illusion.
No.
Something far stranger was happening. Something connected to your dreams. Something connected to the legends.
And if neither your father nor Brock intended to tell you the truth...Then you would find it yourself. No matter what it took.
Everyone kept telling you not to ask questions. Which only convinced you that the answers were worth finding.
Slowly, you rose from your chair and crossed to the window. Rain lashed softly against the glass. Far below, hidden beneath countless layers of stone, the Winter Soldier remained imprisoned.
Alone. Waiting. Wrongly punished.
The memory of his eyes surfaced once more. And with it came a dangerous certainty. That the truth of the winter soldier, the white wolf, is etched into the very stones of this castle and no matter how hard they tried to bury it, it has to come out one day.
And when it does youâre sure it will not only change your life but everyone elseâs in the kingdom too.
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
word count: 6k
warning: bad ex | smut (not going into heavy details but it's fully smut)
summary: bucky has issues with women and relationship and it's determinate to remain single and free but he hasn't met you yet
You had a little coffee place near the Avengersâ Tower.
It was cozy, little and always warm inside. You fought a lot to put the money together for the purchase and when the bank approved your request you were literally jumping in the air.
You noticed a lot of people entering your shop just for the near vicinity of the tower.
âIs Tony Stark ever came here?â Someone asked you, on a quiet morning.
Why would a billionaire ever enter here? You thought in your mind.
You saw the clientâs expression dropping down, eyes on the floor.
âBut I saw Sam Wilson one day⌠he ordered a strawberry donutâŚâ You said to the man, trying to gain his attention.
The door opened and the little bell above it rang.
It was indeed Sam âFalconâ Wilson.
âAnd it was an amazing donut.â He said kissing his finger.
The man asked for the same exact donut, the last one fortunately, and took a pic with a very smug Sam Wilson.
âYou remember the donut?â He asked you.
âI remember everything and everyone and⌠well itâs not like an Avenger would come in here everyday.â
He smiled at you, warmly and caring. He ordered another donut, a chocolate one, and a cappuccino. You noticed how his eyes lingered for a second more on you.
âIâm telling you man,â Sam practically yelled in Buckyâs ear. âSheâs the one⌠or could be the one⌠please come with me and have a coffee. Youâll see it.â
âIâm. Not. Interested.â Bucky said, syllabicated every word.
Bucky Barnes wasnât the one for a relationship, and he made his bed this way. He wanted love, he desired it and craved it but it wasnât for him. Cynthia, his ex, was a hell of a bitch and the most toxic partner in the world.
The hurt and the sadness she left in him, still lingered in his mind.
How she was almost annoyed by his presence. His voice made her ears hurting and his needing of touch was something he needed to handle alone according to her, so he shut down everyone and everything.
He was aware of his face and his body and the womenâs comments at supermarket, but he decided to make them as background noises.
Sam Wilson decided to take the situation in his hands.
The next day, he woke up Steve and told him his plan to a sleepy Captain America who nodded.
âOkay guys,â Steve with his Captainâs voice began. âToday weâre doing a little change in our route. A couple of miles more.â
Bucky was already stretching, kneeling and grabbing his left ankle. Then did the same with the other one while listening. âWhy two miles more?â He asked.
âWhy not?â Steve replied, beginning to run followed by Sam.
Bucky shrugged and followed Steve and Sam.
The two miles really wore Same out as he collapsed on a bench in the park. Steve and Bucky looked at him, standing in front of him. Steve pushed his leg on the the bench and stretched himself. Bucky did the same.
âGod Iâd kill for a coffee right nowâŚâ Sam said, yawning.
âLetâs have coffee then.â Steve proposed, pointing at a coffee place on the other side of the road.
Bucky was too focused on the stretch to realize anything.
Once the three men arrived near your shop, the door was thrown wide open. The little bell on it felt on the road and an angry man went out yelling.
ââŚand by the way youâre not even that pretty, bitch.â
âMan calm down.â Steve replied.
The three men entered your shop, and Sam asked you right away how you were.
âItâs fine. Heâs not new to this. Asks me on a date every two weeks and I keep telling him noâŚâ You replied. âOh⌠Captain America andâŚ?â You asked, stretching your neck to the third man.
Bucky connected the dots. âBucky Barnes.â He replied, looking weird Sam while he was snorting in silence. Steve looked amused too.
Bucky looked at you, really looked at you, and mentally punched Sam but he also imprinted your face in his mind.
Full lips, curly hair and dark brown eyes. A little nose with freckles and softness very much well distributed on your body. You reminded him of a 40sâ girls.
âSo? Coffee?â Sam asked, knowing well Bucky was trying to handle his mind and mouth to not saying stupid shit that could for sure made him look like an idiot.
You let them sit on a table for four and took their orders.
âAnd you⌠Bucky?â
God how she says my name⌠Bucky thought.
âDrip coffee, two donuts and a croissant.â
âShould I choose the croissant for you?â You smiled down at him.
He nodded.
âShut up. Both of you.â He told Steve and Sam. They were already smiling.
âSheâs nice right?â Sam asked.
âSheâs a dream.â Bucky admitted.
Once the coffee and the pastries were ready, you bring them all to the table.
âCoffee guys⌠I made a big pot⌠hereâs the cups and the pastries. Bucky I choose the plum one hope you like it.â You said, touching him lightly on the shoulder.
The left shoulder.
You didnât even react.
Bucky Barnes was a man of very few words. He preferred doing something over telling something. And he did.
Since that morning, he was every other day in your shop.
He pretty much ate every kind of pastries and drank every type of coffee.
Americano, iced, hot and all the flavorful ones.
âDo you like the cinnamon one? I think itâs stronger than the normal one but not bad.â You asked him once every other client went out. You were now alone.
Bucky would have drank even dirty water for you at that point. âI like it.â
âYou said even for the hazelnut one. And the vanilla one. Oh, and the matcha too.â
âWhat? I like coffee.â He smiled sly.
âLetâs have a seat, I made something I want you to try.â
He cleared one of the table while you hid in the back. When you got out again, you carried out a chocolate cake. Sinful and dripping.
âWhoa,â Bucky exclaimed.
âNew add to the list. I just need a handsome man willing to try it.â
âHandsome?â He repeated.
Your cheeks went completely red. In a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of your ears. âI meanâŚâ you stuttered.
âI think youâre beautiful too by the way.â
Thatâs when you both looked at each other smiling.
He grabbed a fork, touching your finger delicately. You smiled more when you saw him took a big piece and popped it in his mouth.
âMâgod⌠itâs terrificâŚâ He began saying. âCould literally eat an entire one by myself.â
âIâm so hap-â
The moment you were replying to Bucky, the door swung open. The man who yelled at you and broke the bell was once again in your shop. Gladly you werenât alone.
âBitch!â He yelled once more. âNot enough for a date with me but you see a couple of muscles and open your leg.â
You smelled the alcohol in the air, as he bathed in a tub of whiskey.
Bucky stood in a second, framing you. His massive body covered you all. He put his right hand behind you, keeping you close to his back. âI suggest you out of here.â He said in a low voice.
It moved something in you. Yes, that wasnât the right moment.
âOr what?â
Bucky took a deep breathe. Every muscles in his body tightened. He slightly tilted his head behind, keeping an eye on the man. âDo you mind?â He asked you, pointing with his chin at the back.
You shock your head no and left.
You didnât quite catch anything happening in the shop. You heard just faintly some punches and the man grunting. When you heard the bell chimed, you stood and walked back to the shop.
âEverythingâs good?â You said, already knowing the answer.
âMâfine,â he said, stretching his shirt on his body. âWonât be a problem anymore.â
You looked at him. His eyes darker and his lips trembling. You noticed a small cut on his eyebrow. âBucky oh my god! Youâre bleeding.â You rushed to his hand, pulling him on a chair. He let you do it.
You disappeared in the back once more and came back with the first aid kit. âLet me please.â
He sat better and turned, then he open his legs. You stood in the middle, taking some alcohol and a cotton pad, trying to avoid his eyes and his warmth.
âHow did this happen?â
âThrow a punch and had a ring on. If I have to be honest I was checking if the door,â he pointed at the door connecting the shop and the back. ââŚwas still closed. Wanted you safe so he caught me off handed.â
You patched him with a band aid.
 He snatched your hand once you applied it and kiss it. You felt his kiss reverberated in your body. You touched his cheek, traced the edge of his lips with your finger and then moved closer to him. Impossibly close. Almost straddling his lap.
He gripped your legs and pulled you completely on him. You felt his muscles hard and solid and a pretty clear warmth against your core.
âBuckyâŚâ you moaned, the second your lips werenât against each others. Taking a deep breathe, you rolled on him.
He grunted and grabbed your hips harder then he kissed your neck and licked a long stripe when he heard his name falling out of your mouth.
âY/N please⌠stop stopâŚâ
âOh sorryâŚâ you rushed to push yourself off his lap. He didnât let you.
âNo⌠you got me wrong⌠I want to take you out firstâŚâ he said to you, looking straight into you eyes.
You saw only sincerity in his look.
He looked down when you didnât reply, thinking he ruined all.
âIâm free every day for you, Bucky.â
He exhaled, sadness literally went out if his body. His muscles relaxed but his fingers kept you there on his lap still.
That was a month ago.
Four weeks of dates at your shop. At the park. At the museum. At the Tower when the other Avengers were out.
The moment was perfect. You were at one of your dates in your shop, sat in a booth at the end of the room. You locked the door and turned off every lights, just a little one on the booth was still one. In this mysterious and exciting state, you asked him something he was waiting.
âWant to come to my place?â
You legs were thrown on his, while he kept a hand on your knees.
Bucky knew this step would have come sooner or later, because he literally draw the path himself.
He told you his story.
How he handle the 40s and the pre-serum Steve. How he wanted to save his country, fighting for the old great America. How HYDRA ruined everything. How he felt like incomplete man due to the arm.
âI thing itâs cool,â you said him in the park on one of your date, while eating an ice cream. âYou can open every lid if you think about itâŚâ you finished, licking your cone.
He laughed when you said it. A real laugh.
He noticed how you were the one always initiating the touch.
Passing him the coffee or the pastry, you always lingered a second longer on his fingers. In the park, your shoulder bumped every time against his. At the tower, when the elevator opened and he was there you throw your arms around him. You remained attached to him till midnight when he got you back home.
âBucky?â You said, moving a hand right in front of his face. âAre you with me?â
âWhat?â He asked, gaining his attention back.
âAsked you if you wanna come to my place. Have some food, watch a movie⌠nothing excessive yâknow? Maybe you can stay for the night tooâŚâ
Yes⌠it is something excessive, Bucky thought.
âYeah⌠sounds funâŚâ he replied.
Your eyes glowed. âAmazing!â You said, throwing your arms around him. You kissed his cheeks and then his lips. âLetâs say Friday?â You said, against his lips.
He snorted. âFriday. Perfect.â
Now it was Friday.
It was Friday in the Avengersâ Tower. In Buckyâs room, where a very nervous super soldier stood in front of the mirror with his hands in his hair.
âMan you like this woman, câmonâŚâ Sam remarked.
âThatâs the problem, Sam⌠and itâs all your faultâŚâ Bucky looked in the mirror once more. âAnd yours by the wayâŚâ he said, looking at Steveâs reflection.
âHow is that any of my fault?â A confused Captain America asked.
âOh letâs have two miles more⌠oh letâs have a coffeeâŚâ Bucky said, mocking his best friend. âI shouldâve know it was a trap.â
âOh poor thing,â Sam teased. âA beautiful woman invite me into her house and maybe she will also cook for meâŚâ
âOH MY GOD! You think I should bring something?â Bucky panicked. âI can always canceled the dinner and went back to RomaniaâŚâ
Steve stood abruptly and slapped Buckyâs head. âShut up and be the Bucky we all know.â
He turned Bucky. âYou like this girl?â Bucky nodded. âThis girl like you too, right?â He nodded again. âSo? Whatâs the problem?â
âCynthiaâŚâ
âJames youâre in my spotâŚâ Cynthia grunted.
âI know,â Bucky replied, kissing her shoulder. âWant some love from my girl.â
âGod, youâre so clingy.â
Bucky made himself smaller and kept looking at the movie.
âBabe do you have some toothpaste? Think I forgot mine at home.â
âDonât know⌠look in some drawerâŚâ She replied from the living room.
âCan I have some water?â
âAm I a serve? God go into the kitchen and take a glassâŚâ
âWhy do you eat so much?â Cynthia asked, once she tried to be romantic preparing a dinner for the both of them.
âYou cooked⌠and Iâm starving. Got back from a two weeks missionâŚâ
âOh two weeks?â Cynthia asked. âDidnât even notice it.â She said and kept eating. âWell you eat everything but not the dessert by the wayâŚâ
âI just donât like this banana breadâŚâ
âNoted.â
âWhy are you always so touchy during sex?â
âWhat do you mean? Itâs sex⌠isnât it supposed to be touchy?â
âI think we should break up. I canât face you anymore. Your always here and I want to be alone for some time.â
âOkay.â Bucky replied before getting out of her apartment.
âYeah and the time was actually Freddy⌠what an asshole.â Sam said.
âShe wasnât completely wrong. What if Y/N felt the same?â Bucky asked.
âDid it feel like the past?â Steve questioned. Bucky shock his head no. âThen thereâs no problem⌠and wear the red henley, ladies like it.â Steve suggested.
Bucky picked up the shirt and wore it, then a pair of black jeans and his boots. He also took some pants for the night and toothpaste and toothbrush. Just in case.
He put all in a duffel bag and went in the garage, where is motorcycle was waiting.
On the other side of the city, you were already working on the dinner.
The chocolate cake Bucky loved so much on the counter. The stew slowly boiling and simmering. The wine in the fridge. The little table you had in the kitchen, set up with a candle in the middle and a while linen cloth on it. You turned off every light, just as you did in the shop, and lit only the kitchen on above the stove. You opened the window and the light breeze came in.
You phone rang.
Getting out now, doll. Canât wait to see you <3 B.
You blushed and replied to him.
Ten minutes later, someone knocked at your door. You rushed opening.
Once you did, the most ethereal and beautiful vision appeared.
Bucky wore a red henley, dark and tight. Black jeans embracing his tights and a pair of boots. Hair slicked back, with a little of gel. Blue eyes shining and a smile so bright it made your knees wobbling a little. You trace the edge of his shoulder with his eyes and now he was the one moving his hand in front of your face.
âSmells good,â he said cautiously.
âGood,â you grinned. âMeans I didnât burn it.â
You guided him inside and took his duffel bag.
âBrought something for the night?â You asked him, hoping in a positive answer.
âYep.â He looked at your apartment. âItâs nice here.â
âThank you.â
Entering he immediately saw the bookshelf on the right, with a tiny opening for the tv. A couch not so big but surely comfortable just seeing it. The window opened on a little balcony, with pots and plants. At his left, the kitchen. He was surely expected a big modern kitchen for a coffee shopâs owner but the reality was different.
The kitchen was small, cozy and with a little table made up for the occasion.
âYou did this for us?â
âOf course.â You replied, as it was the most natural thing ever.
He followed the smell and asked you permission to open the lid. You gave it of course.
âSmell delicious my god. Iâm salivating.â
âAnd,â you said turning to the counter. âHereâs the dessertâŚâ you said, opening the container where the cake stood majestically.
âThatâs the?â
âThe chocolate cake. Yes. I made it since you liked it so much.â
Dinner started quiet.
He wait for you to serve the food, standing and then helping you sitting holding the chair out for you. You were already blushing.
He opened the wine, not wasting any drops and poured it for the both. The stew awake something in him and he growled in pleasure when the meat touched his tongue.
âGod damn⌠havenât had this in weeks and itâs amazing.â
You smiled seeing him asking for the second plate.
Then the cake. He stared at it, then at you, like his brain was still buffering. âNo oneâs ever⌠done this for me.â
âItâs just dinner, Buck.â
âNo,â he said quietly, eyes soft but intense. âItâs not just dinner.â
You didnât push him to explain, but when he took the first bite of cake, you saw his shoulders drop, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. By the end of the night, the wine was gone, the cake was missing a quarter, and Bucky looked⌠lighter. Like maybe, just maybe, heâd found a place he could belong.
The hum of your fridge was the loudest sound in the room. Bucky sat on the edge of your couch, back straight and boots still on, hands clasped so tightly you could hear the faint creak of leather.
Heâd been quiet ever since youâd said âWe can wear our pajamas and be comfy if you want.â You half-expected him to decline and got back to the Tower, but heâd nodded like the words had been heavier than they should be.
Now, he looked like a soldier waiting for orders.
âBathroomâs down the hall,â you said gently, placing a folded blanket on the armrest.
You studied him for a moment. The way his eyes flicked from your bookshelf to the curtains to the framed photo on the wall. He didnât settle anywhere. He didnât lean back. So you busied yourself in the kitchen. Tea was a safe choice. Chamomile and honey, something that would smell like warmth. When you returned, he was in the exact same position.
You placed the mug in front of him. âNot poison, promise.â A quiet huff escaped him, the smallest laugh but it softened something in his face.
He held the mug but didnât drink. âMy⌠uh, my ex didnât like me staying over,â he said suddenly, voice low like he was admitting a mission failure. âSaid I took up too much space. That I was⌠loud, even when I wasnât saying anything. So⌠I just stopped doing it. Got used to leaving before it got late.â
Your chest ached. âBuckyâŚâ you started, but he gave a small shake of his head like it didnât matter. âItâs stupid. I know Iâm not there anymore. But my headâs still wired for it.â
He was staring at the mug in his hands, thumbs brushing slowly over the ceramic, when he spoke. âShe used to huff if I asked for a glass of water,â he said quietly, like the memory had crept in without his permission. âNot every time. But enough.â You glanced at him.
He wasnât looking at you, just frowning slightly, eyes far away. âOne time, she got so angry like, really angry because I told her I didnât like the banana bread she made.â
You blinked. âBut⌠Bucky, you love banana bread.â You said remembering him devouring a banana bread you made for the shop.
He looked up at you then, a soft, tired kind of sadness in his eyes. Not grief. Not bitterness. Just the ache of remembering something that never shouldâve happened. âNo,â he said gently. âI love your banana bread.â
âIâm sorry she made you feel like that,â you said after a moment, voice low. âThat asking for something basic felt like too much.â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. âIt wasnât even the water, or the banan bread, yâknow? It was the way it made me feel. Like I was annoying just for existing.â
You reached out slowly and laid your hand on his. Not tugging. Just resting. âYouâre not annoying,â you said. âNot for asking for water. Not for being honest. Not for being here.â
He looked at your hand, then at you. And this time, he really smiled. You move closer slowly, leaving a little space so he could close it if he wanted. âFor what itâs worth,â you said softly, âyou can take up as much space as you want here. Sit however you like. Breathe as loud as you want. If you want to take the good blanket, take it. This is your space too, when youâre here.â
He looked at you for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if you really meant it. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders loosened. âThanks, doll,â he murmured, and this time when he took a sip of tea, it was like he let himself taste it.
Finishing the tea, it was now time to change into something comfier. He stood, not before kissing you once more, and went into the bathroom.
You changed too into your bedroom. Some long ass shirt and a pair of loose short.
You got out of the room when he got out of the bathroom.
He took a long look at your legs and then at your face.
You came back hand in hand into the living room.
He sat on the couch, fully and not on the edge, and you put your legs on his lap. He immediately caressed your shins and ankles. You shiver at the contact of his metal hand. He tried to took it back and you snatched your leg on his wrist, caging the arm. âDonât even think about it.â
You remained there, his metal hand between your tight and his flesh one on your calf.
At some point of the movie you decide to put on, you had an idea. Testing the waters, you slid off your legs from his lap and he looked at your confused. you knelt on the couch and moved closer to him. He opened his arm for you. You moved to him, kissing his temple and then his cheek.
âMay I?â You asked, looked at his lap.
âGod yesâŚâ he moaned.
You straddled his lap, just as you did in the shop. This time, the lighter material of the pajamas made you impossible not noticing the tent in is pants.
âHappy to see me?â You teased him.
âBehave.â
âWhy? Arenât you happy to see me?â you said, rolling your hips more.
He grabbed his waist, just to stop you but then he thought about and loose his hands. You once again started grinding on him.
You helped him removing his shirt, then you took of yours. Being at home meant no bra and Bucky really appreciated it.
He looked at your boobs, lightly bouncing up and down as you moved on him. He grabbed them in his hands. You felt cold and hot. Flesh and metal.
âBuckyâŚâ you moaned, when he pinched your nipples. He rolled them in his hands. Then he lowered his head and began sucking on one. âOh god⌠keep going please.â
He bit and licked and sucked on your nipple, then moving to the other one giving it the same attention. Your soft skin on his lips and tongue and his length pressing more and more on your core.
He smashed his head in the middle of your boobs and closed them around his face. You moaned harder.
When he stopped, your eyes were closed and your mouth open. âLick them.â He said, tracing the edge of your lips with his fingers. You complied of course, then you felt the same two fingers going down. He moved them past your short and you panties. You pussy clenched around nothing and he felt it too.
âPatience.â
He traced the line of your stomach and then he just softly grazed your core. You arched your back and put your book in his face again. While he once more sucked on your nipple, his fingers reached your clit.
You felt your balance tilted, but his solid arm around you kept you steady. He played with it. Circling it, then pinching then again massaged it.
âBucky⌠pleaseâŚâ
He then pushed two digits in your hole. You felt it immediately, how his fingers stretched you. Your muscles clenched around him. His metal hand moved from your waist to your neck, keeping you there. He pushed them in and out, faster and then slower. He kept playing with your clit with his thumb.
You lasted nearly a couple of minutes and when he kissed you, truly kissed you, you came moaning in his mouth. You began trembling on him, and he kept playing with your hole just as the orgasm washed you out completely.
You rested your forehead on his and kissed him more.
âGod⌠that was⌠amazing⌠let me do it something nowâŚâ
âNo doll⌠itâs not necessaryâŚâ he was saying, but you were already standing in front of him.
âI think it is.â You answered him, lowering the pants and short. Now your were completely naked. He kissed your stomach, before you knelt in front of him.
He spread open his legs.
You took your time and lowered his pants first, noticing the bump already. You kissed his tights and his abs. Then, proceeded to remove his boxer. His cock sprang free and you opened your mouth as you saw it.
âNot so brave right?â He teased you.
âWill see itâŚâ
You closed your hand at the base of his shaft. It felt thick and solid and massive. Slightly curved and tip already reddish and swollen. You began to lick it, just the tip. Quick and precise moves of your tongue. He laid back fully on the couch, and his hand snatched on your head. He guided you, not forcing and when you took him in your mouth he slightly jolted up. You sucked him completely and circled his tip with your thumb. The hand on your head gave you the rhythm and you followed it.
If you lasted a couple of minutes, Bucky was almost the same. He tried to advert you but you kept sucking and when he came, he jolted up his hips more making you gag a little but you kept going. He came into your throat and your swallowed all.
âGod damn itâŚâ he said, panting. He caught your head, hands on both sides of your face and kissed you deeply and hard. âOn the couch⌠kneeling⌠chest on the backrest. Now.â
You stood shaking a little but you obeyed. You knelt on the couch, and propped yourself on the backrest. Bucky behind you, looked at you as a predator.
You felt his knee pressing on the couch, making it creaking and feeling his presence then his mouth was on you. He bit and licked your clit just as he did with your nipples.
âBucky,â you yelled moaning. âOh my god⌠pleaseâŚâ
He didnât hear you, too intoxicated with your taste and smell.
He slapped your cheek and your knees trembled more. He kept you up, snatching an arm under you on your waist. He used his free hand to open your cheek more and devour you. He played with you, and you let him. When you felt his finger again in your core, you clenched more. He then add a second and then a third finger pumping them in and out you while he was still feasting with your pussy. You began trebling for real when he slapped your cheek again. You cam harder than before on his tongue.
âAddicting. Youâre fuckinâ addictingâŚâ He growled on your pussy. âReady for more?â
âGod yes, Bucky⌠fuck me pleaseâŚâ
He snarled. âAt your service, doll.â
He stroked his cock on your still throbbing core and pushed himself into your hole. Warm and welcoming and everything he wanted. He gripped your waist and pounded into your pussy. He then propped himself on your back, letting you feeling his weight on him.
âDo you like that, doll? Like when I fuck into oblivion?â
âYes⌠i like it⌠donât stopâŚâ
He angled his leg higher and pushed into you more. His balls hitting your pussy while his hot breath was on your ear.
âBucky⌠iâm comingâŚâ
âMe too⌠come on my cock doll⌠soak meâŚâ
You came again, for the third time. He was right behind you. He stayed into you, on you, behind you. He was everywhere.
His massive hands grounded you keeping you there.
When both of your breath calmed down, he slid out of you. You missed him inside you already. He helped you sitting on the couch and took your legs to put them on his lap.
âIt was amazing, Bucky⌠godâŚâ you panted.
âWasnât is too much?â
âAbsolutely not. It was perfect. You are perfect.â
Warmth radiated inside him. He looked at you, at your pleased expression and your smile. Your hair all over the pillow and your legs still trembling a little.
A vision.
âCanât let you sleep like that, doll.â
âI for sure canât get up, sir.â
He snorted and stood up, then he picked you up while you were still with your eyes closed and that smile on your face.
He brought you in the bathroom, let you sit on the counter and open a little your legs. He then took a towel and delicately removed every trace of him with some water. You flinched a little at the touch but you smiled.
âSoreâŚâ
âWonder whyâŚâ
Once you were both cleaned and ready to bed, he picked you up again and brought you in the bedroom.
âYou found the bedroom.â
âWell it was the last room, right?â
He laid you on the bed and you remained there, but suddenly you went to stand. He stopped you.
âWhere do you thing youâre going?â
âIâm thirsty.â
âThen your boyfriend will get you something to drinkâŚâ He stopped talking when he heard himself but then smiled. âYeah your boyfriend⌠stay thereâŚâ
âA big glass boyfriend please⌠your girlfriend is sooooo thirsty.â You said to him in a singsong voice.
He came back with two glasses stacked on the bottle and a plate with a big slice of cake.
âSorry you may be thirsty but Iâm hungry.â
âMake yourself at home, Bucky.â
He sat on the bed, naked and happy and finally free. You sat too and rest your back on the headrest of the bed. He put the plate in between you and handed you a full glass of water, which you gulped in a second.
âNever thought I could have something like that anymoreâŚâ he said, eating a full spoon of cake.
âNaked eating cake?â You teased him.
âNaked with a beautiful girl eating cake and⌠happy.â
âIâll be naked eating a cake with you forever, Bucky.â
Once you both finished your water and your cake, he slid down on the bed opening his arm to you. You immediately moved closer to him. You ear on his chest, sensing his heartbeat. His arm circled around your waist and your legs tangled.
Bucky, completely embarrassed after your first kiss, because his hands explored every inch of you he could reach until you said to call down while giggling.
Bucky trying not to audibly whimper when you kiss his forehead, his nose or his cheek, because he hasn't felt touch that soft in decades.
Bucky unable to look Sam in the eye after he saw the way he reacts like a puppy to your touch.
Bucky coming running to you to apologize after every fight, even if he wasn't wrong, just because he can't stand not being glued to you.
Bucky genuinely believing he would have a heart attack the first time you straddles his lap.
Bucky forgetting any shame he had about the metal arm because he needed to touch you with every inch of his body.
Bucky fighting for his life not to finish in three seconds every time you're intimate.
Bucky feeling like he would actually throw up when he saw a guy at a party touching you trying to flirt.
Bucky, the 106 year old super soldier, being bossed around bribed with a reward as simple as a kiss.
authors notes: babies first smut is here!! this didn't start out as smut, it was supposed to be innocent and fluffy but i ended up in a mood and here we are. it's a little rough around the edges but we move. (will cry if anyone's mean about it x) did write this with beefy cw bucky in mind but this picture fit the moodboard better so it's up to you really.
warnings: 18+, mdni!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, smidge of degradation in the middle, pussy pronouns (blink and you'll miss it), smidge of a praise kink, hair pulling, not proofread so all my mistakes are my own, i think i've got everything?? please feel free to let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 1.4k
summary:
a lazy day ends with girl dinner and you trying to explain the concept to bucky, who decides to put his own spin on it.
it was a lazy day, the kind where time seemed to slip through your fingers like sand no matter how hard you tried to hold onto it. at some point it had started to rain, beating against the glass as the smell of fresh earth filtered in through the window and mixing with the candles you'd lit. bucky had claimed one corner of the sofa, blanket half draped over him as he read his book, you'd taken the other side, scrolling mindlessly through your phone until you'd gotten up to go and grab dinner.
which was simple enough.
until it wasn't.
"the hell is that?" his book dropped into his lap as he watched you walk back in like you weren't carrying a plate of whatever that was. you shrugged as you sat down next to him and balanced the plate on your lap. "okay, so⌠the last of the cake we got from the farmers market, string cheese times two, goldfish crackers, and some strawberries." you pointed out each thing, perfectly arranged so none of it would touch and contaminate anything else because god forbid. "girl dinner." you smiled as picked up a strawberry and took a bite, the juices staining the corner of your lips.
he blinked at you once before he looked down as your plate and then back up at you. "girl dinner⌠that's notânone of that goes together." he thought that he'd seen everything the modern world had to offer at this point, every tiktok, every trendâuntil this one sneaked up on him in his own living room. "is that even legal?" you snorted as you fed him a cracker, shaking your head. "you lived through the great depression, bucky, you've probably seen worse than this." he just shook his head as he watched you explain it all completely seriously.
"this is like girl math all over again." he was still minorly traumatised by the fact you confidently believed that things were free if you used cash instead of your card or the fact you were actually saving money by buying more things to get free delivery. "eh, not really. this is better than girl math because you get whatever you want for dinner. you should try it sometime, it's not that hard. dinner is just a concept made up society anyway."
he laughed at that, properly laughed as he bumped his shoulder against his. "hey!" you protested, looking utterly offended which was diminished by grin spreading across your face. "it's true! why should we stand around for hours to make something that we're going to eat in like ten minutes, when this does exactly the same thing, y'know?" he nodded solemnly like you'd just handed him state secrets instead of an opinion. "you say the same thing about matcha." you rolled your eyes as you shuffled closer, worming your way under his blanket and curling yourself against his side. "matcha is different. matcha tastes like grass and i'm convinced that it's some kind of brainwash of the masses thing. no offence." you were guilty of having opinions on a lot of thingsâone of the things he loved the most about youâ but matcha was high up on that list because it made no sense at all.
"none taken." he huffed as he snaked his arm around you shoulders, metal hand rubbing circles against your shoulder as you carried on eating. "you do have a point, though. it's like blended up grass that people pay for the privilege of. what's wrong with a normal cup of coffee, huh? kids these days. butâŚ" he reached over and plucked the plate from your hands despite your protests, setting it down on the coffee table.
"i can think of something else i'd rather have for dinner, for the record." he lay you down against the couch, hands warm against your sides as they slipped under your t-shirt. a whine left the back of your throat as your back arched up off the couch as you tried to chase his touchâheat already brewing between you thighs. "not fairâŚ" you breathed softly as his fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down slowly. he pressed a kiss just above your navel, using his nose to nudge your t-shirt up. "who said anything about fair? life's not fair." he murmured against your skin as his kisses trailed lower and lower until he reached the waistband of you underwear, pulling back just enough to look up at you.
you were wrecked already, an effect that only he'd ever managed to have on you. he put his hands on you and suddenly your brain turned to mush and you'd never had a cohesive thought in your life, and you were okay with that. your hands flew out on instinct, fingers curling around his hair and tugging as your underwear joined your shorts somewhere on the floor. "buckyâŚ" you whined as he nudged your legs apart with his shoulders as he settled between them. "just trying to see my girl, look at her. so wet for me already, you're so easy sometimes."
your hips jumped up as dived in, his tongue flattening against your clit as his way of easing you in before he really started, circling and sucking and teasing as you turned into a trembling mess underneath him, hands still tugging at his hair. the way your thighs tremble around his head feels like a reward, paired with the moans and whines spilling from you freely. it's almost like a game for him, seeing how much he can pull from you. "fuckâyou can'tâoh god, don't stop, pleaseâŚ" you were vaguely aware of the words that were spewing out from you as his hands come up to your hips, vibranium cool against overheated skin as he pinned you down to try and stop the squirming.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his chin already dripping with your slick as a grin spread across his face. "you want me to stop, baby? you gotta use your words for that, c'mon. you're a big girl, or have you gone all shy on me?" he cooed as one hand slipped down from you hip, brushing past your thigh. "poor baby, dumb already. look at you." his words snapped something inside of you, the last of your restraint crumbling as your hips bucked wildly and he stopped trying to hold them down.
"please. please, fuckâiâ" you whimpered as he slipped a finger inside, crooking it just right but it wasn't enough. it was never enough. you needed the stretch, needed to be fuller. "more. you needâi need more." you pleaded, and who was he to deny you? he slipped another finger inside, moving them rhythmically as he hit that spot that had you seeing stars as you repeated his name over and over again like a prayer. you rutted against his hand shamelessly as you chased the frictionâanything to get you over the edge.
when you did reach it, it felt like a live wire running straight through you.
every muscle in your body seized up as it burst like dam, your climax washing over you as you saw nothing but white for a couple of seconds as you lost yourself in the pleasure. it tore through you in waves and for a minute, you thought it was never gonna end. "that's it, baby. that's it. you did so well. look at how good you were for me. good girl." he murmured as he guided you through it, sitting back on his heels as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. everything softened as he looked down at you underneath him, panting and writhingâyour skin flushed from exertion. "hey, look at me." he reached down and tipped your chin up until your eyes found his. "you good?"
you blinked at him slowly, your body shuddering through an aftershock, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. "can't feel my legs, you bastard." you huffed as your hands finally left his hair, shoving his shoulder weakly instead. he chuckled as his thumb traced lazy circles against the inside of your thigh. "it was all that talk about dinner." he teased. "made me hungry for my girl, can you blame me? you can keep your girl dinner, i'm good right here."
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Summary : The more the king tries to hide the truth, the more suspicious it makes you. And lying to someone who is desperate for answers, only serves the purpose of making them willing to work even harder to get to the core of the secret.
Word Count : 4.1k
A/N : I'm sorry this took a month to write but the next chapter is almost written and will be out sooner than this one.
Thank you for your patience.
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The palace was the darkest place in the kingdom of hydra.
The air here always felt wrong. It has felt that way since you came here as a kid. From where? you didn't know. Just that one day you opened your eyes to several men staring at you with antiseptic herbs in their hands and looking at your horrified face through jeweled glasses trying to corroborate what's wrong with you.
Your father had found you then. Rushing into the room with all the urgency of a king going to his weaponry before leaving for war.
He had clutched you close almost immediately. Whispering soothing words to your disoriented ears.
His words lay unprecedented to you as he ushered you to speak and you asked him why you were here.
The look on his face, as you still remember it today, was of pure horror. Your own child not recognising you, asking who they were must have done immense damage to his old heart that had spent years serving the kingdom and only now had received the joy of having a kid.
His fortune, like most Kings had been limited to wealth and warships and army and arsenal. But never did it extend itself onto his wives, none of whom could bear children until you.
Your mother had diedâgiving birth to youâof a rare condition that years later the doctors would recognise as hemorrhage but the healers at the time were incapable of saving her. Limited by the medicine and knowledge of their time.
And so, Hydra, despite being the pioneer of medicine and advancements in the fields of war and politics worldwide, could not save its own queen.
Such was the irony of the King's life, yearning for a child all his life and losing the dear wife who gave him the greatest gift of all before she herself got to relish in the joy of being a mother and leaving the said desired kid for him to raise.
But the gods willed his misfortune to not end there. And you, at the tender age of five had fallen sick to an anonymous disease that once again no healers in the country could neither identify nor cure.
He had gone to the ends of the oceans to find the best of healers for you when you fell sick.
The treatment had left you frail and fragile, or so your father believed when you didnât recognise him after waking up from the fever induced slumber you had fallen into for weeks.
And such was your condition now. You were the princess. The person of highest power after the king himself. The sole heir to the huge kingdom and its wealth. Yet you were a prisoner of your own body.
You couldnât leave the castle because of the danger of enemies attacking you. You couldnât go to the woods becuase of the dangerous wildlife there. The gardens were too dangerous because the plants may spike an allergic reaction. The armoury was out of limits because your body was too fragile for too much physical effort.
They said books would interest you instead. That youâd have maids for friends. That there would be an abundunce of jewellery and cosmetics and artifacts to entertain you. That you should rather study court tactics and politics and peace treaties instead.
And that was how all the traces of your identity before you were crowned the princess have remained buried beneath the weight of the crown and responsibilities that became bars of the enclosure that is your life as a princess ever since.
Because having power and having knowledge are one thing. Having freedom is another. Since despite having the skill to rule out the judgement of s case based on your own conscience, you would have to rely on your fatherâs interests when it came to giving verdict.
Such was the irony of your royal life.
The crown that everyone desires, the one that stares back when you look in the mirror is made of thorns, each one digging into your skull with every desicion you have made as the authority of this kingdom that you knew was morally incorrect but beneficial to your father so you made it.
And within the depths of your heart, you knew that the mystery behind the prisonerâthe man labelled as beastâwas an ugly truth that he was there not because he desrved it but because he was victim of the kingâs grand schemes.
At some level, you respected your father, you really did, knowing how well the kingdom has flourished in his reign, knowing how much he had to sacrifice for his subjects and at what cost the peace in the kigdom was achived and maintained.
What you didnât enjoy was that every good thing in this land had been recieved at the cost of his morals, his conscience.
And even though you might not know war and politics as well as he did but you knew this much, that a kingdom which is reigning at the expense of innocent lives, doesnât last very long.
And after todayâs occurences, after getting caught by rumlow outside the prison, you knew what the next morning will bring.
But this time, you knew one thing for sure, that you would not let anyoneâs scheming run over your conscience. For you had answers to find. And you would get those answers, whatevr it might take.
The summons arrived before breakfast. You had scarcely slept. Again. The image of the silver cell lingering stubbornly in your thoughts.
The prisoner.
The Winter Soldier.
The man from your dreams.
Every time you attempted to think of something else, your mind wandered back to the underground chamber. To the shock in his eyes. To the pain behind his sileence.
To the recognition in his eyes, that said he knew you but before you could ask how, the night had ended and you were left yearning for knowledge, yet again.
A maid informed you the first thing in the morning that His Majesty wished to see you immediately. Which was never a promising beginning to any morning.
But you went. Because what else was there for you to do than follow the kingâs orders and be a good obedient wife for the man he chose for you.
The royal audience chamber awaited at the heart of the palace. Its high vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadow above, while sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows depicting kings long dead. Banners hung between marble columns. Gold gleaming everywhere.
Normally the grandeur soothed you. Today it felt suffocating.
Your father sat on the throne, untouched by the gravity of your desperation. The king's expression, stern.
The sight alone made your stomach sink.
Brock stood beside him, soft smile masking the evil behind his eyes. His expression was far worse than the king. Polite and controlled. Almost pleasant. The sort of pleasantness that never reached his eyes. The sort that always made you uneasy.
You curtsied. "Your Majesty."
Neither man invited you to sit. An unfortunate sign.
The room remained silent.
Your father stood up, folding his hands behind his back. "You were found near the lower dungeons last night."
Straight to the point.
You swallowed. "Iâ"
"We are not asking whether it occurred." His voice cut across yours. "We know it occurred."
The words settled heavily in the chamber. You looked briefly toward Brock. His expression remained perfectly composed. Yet there was satisfaction hidden beneath it. A quiet satisfaction.
As though he had expected this outcome and he was enjoying it.
Your father continued. "The lower dungeons are forbidden." You remained silent, knowing better than to talk over him. "The passages beneath the palace are not places for a princess."
"They are dangerous."
You thought of the man locked within a silver cage, then the words used for him. Dangerous. The word felt strangely misplaced.
Before you could stop yourself, you said quietlyâ "He didn't seem dangerous."
A stupid desicion.
The moment the words escaped your mouth, both men froze. The silence that followed felt enormous.
Brock was the first to speak. "You saw him." Not a question. A statement. His voice had become colder.
You lifted your chin slightly. "Yes."
Your father closed his eyes briefly. As though you had just confirmed his worst fears. "You spoke with the prisoner?"
"No."
That at least was true.
"Then count yourself fortunate." Your father's tone hardened. "You know nothing of what resides beneath this castle."
You wanted to laugh. Because that was precisely the problem. Nobody would tell you anything. Nobody ever told you anything. "Then perhaps someone should explain it."
The words slipped out before caution could stop them. The king's expression darkened. Brock's eyes narrowed.
You pressed forward anyway.
Because for once you were tired. Tired of secrets. Tired of being treated like a child. Tired of everyone deciding what you should know.
"What has he done?" you asked.
Neither answered.
"What crime deserves that?"
Still nothing.
You could feel your frustration growing. "He isn't a beast the city makes him out to be." Your father's jaw tightened. "He is a prisoner."
"He is dangerous."
"How?"
Brock stepped forward. "That is not your concern."
Something inside you snapped becuase for once you'd had enough of being dismissed. Enough of being ignored.
"Everything in this kingdom becomes my concern eventually." The words emerged sharper than intended.
A mistake.
Immediately you saw both men's expressions change. Your father looked horrified. Brock looked offended.
"My lady," Brock said carefully, "you would do well to remember your station."
You stared at him. "My station?"
"Indeed." His voice remained smooth. Controlled. Almost gentle. Which somehow made it worse. "You need not concern yourself with matters of governance."
You blinked. "I am to be queen. And the matters that are related to my kingdom, become my concern, eventually"
"Eventually." He repeated, smile never leaving his face. "But there are matters best left to those equipped to understand them."
The patronizing tone made heat rush to your cheeks. You knew precisely what he was saying. A pretty princess. A future wife. Not someone meant to ask questions. Not someone meant to think.
You looked toward your father. Waiting. Hoping. Surely he would object. Surely he wouldâ"Your betrothed speaks wisely."
The disappointment hit harder than you expected. Your father continued. "There is a reason these matters are kept from you."
"Because nobody trusts me."
"No."
His voice sharpened. "Because you are young."
You nearly laughed. Young. Old enough to be married. Old enough to produce heirs. Old enough to represent an entire kingdom. Yet apparently not old enough to ask questions.
The absurdity of it stung.
âI might be young, your majesty. But i am not foolishâ Your words now had a bite to them that you didnât bother hiding âAnd I might not know what crimes the prisoner has done to be kept in that dungeonâ You stepped forward, a show of power that made both men freeze âBut I know for a fact that no crime is heinous enough to deserve suffering of that sortâ
"Enough." Your father's voice echoed through the chamber. âKeep talking back and you shall face consequencesâ
You fell silent. The king took a long breath. Then spoke in the formal tone he used during decrees. "The matter is settled."
Your stomach dropped. "You are forbidden from entering the lower dungeons again." The words rang like chains locking into place. "You will not approach them."
"You will not inquire further."
"You will not speak of the prisoner."
Your hands clenched, trying to hide the tremor in them.
Brock added calmly, "And should curiosity tempt you again, I suggest you remember that queens must possess discipline."
Something about the statement made your chest ache. Not because it was cruel. Because it was dismissive. Because he spoke as though you belonged to him already.
As if your thoughts required his approval. As if your life had already been decided.
Your father nodded. "This discussion is concluded."
That was it. No explanation. No answers. No trust. Only orders.
You stood there for a moment. Looking between them. The king. Your father. The man who was supposed to protect you. The man who had once crossed oceans to find the best of healers for you. The man who now seemed more concerned with obedience than understanding.
Then Brock. Your future husband. The future king. A man who smiled often, yet somehow never made you feel warm. A man who spoke kindly, yet never made you feel heard.
Suddenly the audience chamber felt far too small. The walls too close. The air too thin. You curtsied stiffly, mostly because protocol demanded it. Before turning and walking away.
Quickly.
Before either man could see how much their words had hurt.
The doors slammed shut behind you. The sound echoed through the corridor. You didn't stop walking. Slippers struck the marble floor harder than was proper for a princess.
Servants scattered from your path. You barely noticed. Anger burned hot behind your eyes. Anger, frustation, sadness, confusion, all tangled together.
The entire palace suddenly felt like a gilded cage. Every hour planned. Every decision made for you. Every path chosen. Every question silenced.
You thought of the silver cell. The irony nearly made you laugh. The Winter Soldier sat imprisoned beneath the castle.
And yet, for one brief moment, looking into his eyes... You had felt less trapped than you did now.
The realization was terrifying.
You hurried down the corridor toward your chambers. Fighting the sting behind your eyes.
Because for the first time in your life, you found yourself wondering something dangerous. Not what was hidden beneath the castle. Not why the Winter Soldier appeared in your dreams.
But whether either of you were truly free at all. Because the great palace with all the luxury a person could ever need, was still a prison when it came at the cost your freedom.
The remainder of the day passed in a haze of resentment.
You remained within your chambers by choice, claiming a headache severe enough to excuse you from courtly obligations. No one questioned it.
Perhaps they believed your father's reprimand had upset you. Perhaps they simply preferred not to deal with a difficult princess. Either way, the solitude was welcome.
Rain had begun sometime after midday. Now evening shadows stretched across your chamber whilst droplets traced winding paths down the tall windowpanes.
You sat curled within the alcove beside the fire, a book lying forgotten in your lap. You had not turned a page in nearly an hour. Your thoughts refused to settle. Again and again your mind returned to the dungeon.
To the silver cage.
To the prisoner.
To those eyes.
The more you remembered, the less the stories made sense.
A monster.
A beast.
A creature so dangerous that ancient magic was required to contain him.
And yet...
You had seen no monster. You had seen a weary man sitting alone in a cell. A man who looked more sad than dangerous. A man whose first reaction upon seeing you had been shock rather than violence. A man who had warned you to flee when the guards approached.
The image stubbornly refused to align with the tales.
A knock interrupted your thoughts.
You frowned. "Enter."
The door opened and your stomach immediately tightened as brock stepped inside.
Of fucking course.
The future king looked immaculate as always. Dark clothing embroidered with silver thread. Hands clasped neatly behind his back. The image of control and composure.
The sort of man painters adored. The kind who never appeared ruffled by anything.
The door shut softly behind him. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Brock offered a small smile. "I feared you might still be upset."
You lowered your gaze to the book. "I am well."
A lie. An obvious one and he seemed to recognize it. But after the commotion you had caused in the assembly today, you didnât have it in you to be truthful.
He crossed the room slowly, and settled into the chair opposite yours. The fire crackled between you. And for a while he simply watched the flames. As though carefully considering his words.
Finally he sighed. "I did not come to argue." You remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt, "I know this morning was unpleasant."
His voice had softened considerably. Gentler than it had been before your father. "I understand why you are angry."
That almost made you laugh. He understood nothing. He never could. A prince who had grown up having others get accustomed to his desires so he wouldnât have to adjust, could never understand the princess who spent her days staying trapped in her room because her father was too afraid to let her outof his sight.
A commander who had armies bow to him and his questions answered before he even had to ask them, would never understand the misery of the lady whose pleas went unheard and her questions unanswered.
Still, you kept your expression neutral.
Brock leaned forward slightly. "You think we are keeping secrets from you."
You thought? No. You knew. Yet again you remained silent. There was no arguing with someone as arrogant as him when you knew he would never confess the truth.
"I suppose," he continued, "that from your perspective it must seem unfair."
His tone was patient. Kind. Reasonable.
The exact tone one might use when calming a frightened child. You hated it. You were no child, if anything your conscience worked better than their strategies but then again, men like him never bow to women likw you, who knew the power they hold for themselves.
"The truth is that we are trying to protect you."
There it was. Protection.
Such a lovely word.
Such a useful word.
Your king and his aide could justify almost anything with it. Protecting you from knowledge. Protecting you from choices. Protecting you from freedom.
Brock continued speaking. "The prisoner beneath the castle is not what he appears."
Despite yourself, your attention sharpened immediately.
"You've seen him."
You nodded once.
"Then you understand why the illusion exists."
Your brow furrowed. "Illusion?"
A flicker of emotion you couldnât quite place, passed through his eyes. The first sign of satisfaction. As though he had finally reached the point he'd come to make. "Yes."
He sat back. "The man you saw is not truly a man."
You stared at him.
Brock spoke carefully. Deliberately. As if he were reciting something rehearsed. "The creature beneath the castle is ancient. The oldest records describe him as a shapeshifter. A predator." he met your eyes before continuing, "A beast capable of taking whatever form best suits his purposes."
You thought of the dream. The white wolf. The river. The forest.
Your heartbeat quickened.
Brock noticed and mistook the reason for fear. "The magic surrounding his prison suppresses his true nature." He gestured vaguely. "The form you witnessed is part of that enchantment."
You frowned. "So you're saying he's pretending?"
"No." His smile returned. "The magic is pretending for him, supressing his powers enough so he can be tamed"
The explanation sounded convenient. Far too convenient. You had spent your entire life surrounded by politicians. You knew what half-truths sounded like.And this sounded remarkably similar.
Brock's voice softened further. "You are fortunate." Something in his tone made your skin crawl.
"Fortunate?"
"Very." The smile never wavered. "You were alone. Unprotected. If the enchantments had weakened..." He shook his head slowly. "As foolish as it sounds, you might not be sitting here now."
The statement lingered in the air. Waiting. Expecting fear. Perhaps gratitude. Perhaps obedience.
Instead you found yourself remembering something else. The look on the prisoner's face when the guards approached.
The urgency.
The concern.
The warning.
You remembered him urging you to leave. Not because he wished to hurt you. But because he feared what would happen if you were discovered.
That memory sat strangely beside Brock's story. Like two pieces from entirely different puzzles. But you have spent enough time reading books in archieves to know that the truth of a story merely depends on the person who is telling it.
And most certainly, this was brockâs perspective of the story but you couldnât unsee what you saw in that dungeon. Nor could you unhear the warnings given to you.
So you realised with frightening certainty that the only way out of this is to lie through it. To project an illusion of fear and obedeance, realistic enough that when you inevitably work toward finding the answers you want, nobody would suspect you.
So you asked quietly, letting your fingers fumble in your lap to show fear without saying it "Does he attack people?"
Brock hesitated. Just briefly. The pause was tiny, as if calculating the truthfullness of what he was seeing. âHe has."
Not yes. Not a direct answer. Merely he has. Another carefully chosen phrase.
You looked into the fire. Thinking.
The longer Brock spoke, the more certain you became that not only he was telling you merely his perspective of the story but also that he was telling you only enough truth to support a larger lie. Or perhaps a larger secret.
The realization settled heavily in your chest.
At last Brock stood. "I know you dislike being forbidden from things." His smile returned once more. Gentle and Practiced. "But someday you'll understand that not every locked door should be opened."
He stepped closer. Resting a hand lightly atop yours. You resisted the urge to pull away. "Trust me."
The words nearly made you laugh. Trust him?
A man who answered questions without answering them. A man who spoke of protection whilst hiding entire portions of the truth. A man who seemed more interested in controlling your curiosity than satisfying it.
Still you smiled. A small smile. Carefully crafted. The sort of smile expected from a princess. "I understand."
Relief flickered across his face. "You do?"
You nodded. "Yes."
Another lie. A much better one this time. "I was frightened after what happened."
Brock visibly relaxed. A good sign.
You lowered your eyes. Playing the obedient daughter. The obedient future queen. "The dungeon was a mistake."
"Exactly." His voice warmed immediately. "I am glad you see reason."
You nearly rolled your eyes. Instead you smiled again. "I do."
Satisfied, Brock squeezed your hand once before releasing it.
A few minutes later he left. The door closed behind him. Silence returned. You remained perfectly still until his footsteps vanished completely.
Then your smile disappeared. Instantly. You stared into the fire.
Thinking. Calculating. Scheming.
The prisoner wasn't a monster. Of that much you were now certain. Perhaps he was dangerous. Perhaps there were truths still hidden from you. But whatever secrets lay beneath the castle, they were not the simple story Brock wanted you to believe.
A beast. A curse. An illusion.
No.
Something far stranger was happening. Something connected to your dreams. Something connected to the legends.
And if neither your father nor Brock intended to tell you the truth...Then you would find it yourself. No matter what it took.
Everyone kept telling you not to ask questions. Which only convinced you that the answers were worth finding.
Slowly, you rose from your chair and crossed to the window. Rain lashed softly against the glass. Far below, hidden beneath countless layers of stone, the Winter Soldier remained imprisoned.
Alone. Waiting. Wrongly punished.
The memory of his eyes surfaced once more. And with it came a dangerous certainty. That the truth of the winter soldier, the white wolf, is etched into the very stones of this castle and no matter how hard they tried to bury it, it has to come out one day.
And when it does youâre sure it will not only change your life but everyone elseâs in the kingdom too.
warnings: smut, couch fucking, reader is in 20's, degrading, praises, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, ass spankin', dbf!bucky, au!steve'sdaughter, nicknames: honey, doll, baby, sweet girl, sweetie. use of daddy (bucky calling himself that).
a/n: just realized this old man sits on a couch alot. wrote this bc I love dbf!men and bucky is so yummy
thinking of dbf!bucky where he cant keep his hands to his best friends daughter who came back from uni, steve's daughter, when steve tells buck, "cant thank you enough, buck, for babysittin' her f'me, y'know how she gets when shes alone in the house." oh, buck is more than happy to watch over her.
"C'mon honey, do you think you can give me one more for daddy? yeah?" He would reach around your body to firmly rub your sensitive clit while pounding into you mercilessly into the couch, your hand gripping onto anything you could find for support. You've been teasing bucky since you two been alone in the house. He's been makin' sure you stay out of trouble while he babysit you, although you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, as said to your dad already. To get on buckys nerves, you've been wearing skimpy blouses and short shorts that are practically panties at this point around the house whenever bucky would be around, sitting closely to him in such attire while you both watched TV would make bucky resort to hiding his erection under a couch pillow.
Here you are, trapped under him after your little games finally broke his last straw. He manages to slip out of you, where you whine like a bitch in heat from the feeling of being so empty, hes doing this on purpose, edging you until you learn your lesson to not mess with daddy's best friend. It's unfair really, where your so exposed to him, your cunt dripping with your arousal while hes clothed, that Henley stretched agaisnt his braod chest while his pants are pulled down enough to where his cock springs against his stomach, glistening with your wetness and his own. He sits you onto him again without a warning, making you take every inch so easily with how soaking and sloppy he made your cunt to be. "such a fuckin' brat, teasin' me around this house like I wouldn't fuck your brains out, doll?" He pants, grinning as he manhandled you to straddle your knees bracketing his thighs, your ass seated on his lower stomach as he uses his hands to fuck you real nice and hard onto his cock, while leaving hard smack, smack, smack, onto your brusied ass with each thrust.
You whine onto for support, tears staining your cheeks as you try to find your voice, to almost beg for his mercy to go easy on you. "how you think y'daddy would feel seeing his sweet girl fucked out like this, huh?" He bites on your shoulder, his other hand going around to grope your breast so harshly, teasing your hardening peaks. His hand leaves your breasts, going back to your ass and spreading your cheeks, and kneading them together and smacking them, with each praise, "takin' me so well, you were made f'me, baby, yeah?" You nod mindlessly, feeling that knot in your stomach tighten with each bounce and of his thrusting up into you, where you grip his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, "b-buck, please, m'gonnaâ!" He grabs your hips so hard your sure they would leave bruises in the morning, but you're so put of it all you can think of is, bucky, bucky, bucky, and that knot in your lower tummy 'bout to bust. "Yeah? Gonna cum f'me, doll, c'mon, let go for me" He cooes, biting your neck and licking a long strip to your shoulder. He forces a few more thrusts up into you and you could also feel his movements faltering, becoming sloppy but harsh.
You cry out his name, the knot bursting and you swear you see stars, the whole room becoming so painful to look at for how much he keeps fucking you through it, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you come down from your high, and bucky keeps fucking you through it until he comes so harshly that he moans lowly, which seems to be your name but so broken. You lean forward, your chest resting on his thighs, as he tips his head back, panting and his hands mindlessly knead the flesh of your sore ass. "Such a good girl f'me, good girl, such a sweet girl for takin' me so well." He praised, pulling you up and turning you while youre impaled on his half hardening cock, making you whine and whimper at the sensation. He caresses your fucked out face, chuckling and grinning like an idiot, "round two, baby?"
a/n: in the middle of looking at old works and found out this cuties here
The door creaked open and Bucky stepped into the apartment he shared with you. Heâd been gone three days on mission.
Bone-tired, ready for nothing more than a shower maybe an hot meal and your arms around his body.
But the sight that greeted him made his stomach plummet.
You were at the counter, frosting cupcakes with your usual precision. Christmas was about to come so you had to prepare the new flavours for your cupcakes.
Flour dusted your apron and a smudge of chocolate on your cheek. What stopped him cold was the darkening bruise marring your forehead, just above your brow.
âSweetheart?â His voice came out sharp, almost strangled.
You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. âOh my god, youâre back.I miss-â
Words dying in your throat seeing his face.
Before you could smile he was already across the room. His massive frame on you in an instant.
Arms circling your shoulders.
Lips trembling.
Eyes narrowing.
His hands hovered by your face, trembling. âWhat happened? Who did this to you?â
You blinked. âBucky-â
âTell me.â His tone was low, urgent. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he couldnât get enough air. âDid a customer do this? Did someone put their hands on you at the bakery? God, doll... you shouldâve called me... I wouldâve-â
Standing in front of him, arms caging you delicately, you began to see how he was ready to go full Winter Soldier mode. You press your palms on his hard chest. âBucky, no, itâs not-â
âDonât protect them,â he interrupted, spiraling faster.
His metal fist clenched so hard you swore you could hear the servos creak. His flesh hand kept hovering, terrified to hurt you further but unable to stop reaching. His eyes never stooped looking at the purple bruise around your eye.
âJust say the name and Iâll make sure they never-â
âBUCKY!â
Your voice cracked, louder than you intended. It made him freeze, eyes snapping to yours in shock.
The panic on his face softened into something almost boyish, like heâd been caught doing something wrong. His lips parted, but no words came.
You sighed, rubbing your flour covered hands down your apron. âBucky, stop... please. Just⌠stop for a second and listen to me.â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, stepping back a half pace like he was giving you space. His shoulders were still tight, his chest still heaving, but he nodded once.
You exhaled, gentler now. âNo one hit me. No one yelled at me. No one touched me. This,â you pointed at your forehead, âwas all me being clumsy. I was reaching for a box of cake pans on the top shelf and it fell. Right on my face.â
Silence.
Bucky stared at you like he couldnât process it, then slowly raked his hand down his face. âYouâre telling meâŚâ His voice was a low rasp. âThat I just had a goddamn heart attack over⌠cookware?â
A guilty smile tugged at your lips. âTechnically bake ware.â
For a long beat, he just stared. Then a short, disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. He shook his head, pressing his hands to his hips. âJesus Christ, doll... I was two seconds away from hunting down every customer youâve ever served.â
You stepped more closer, softening. âAnd thatâs why I had to yell. You were scaring me a little.â
That made him still, his chest tightening. He looked down at you, eyes flickering with guilt. âI scared you?â
âNot because of you,â you reassured quickly, brushing flour-dusted fingers over his jaw. âBecause I could see you slipping. Like you were about to lose yourself. And I didnât want that⌠for you or me.â
His shoulders dropped at that, all the fight draining out of him.
He carefully framed your face in his hands, flesh and metal both gentle as silk. âIâm sorry, doll. I just⌠I canât stand the thought of someone hurting you. Youâre my safe place. If anything took that awayâŚâ His voice cracked.
You leaned into his palms, smiling softly. âThen youâd still have me. Bruises and all. I promise Iâll survive a runaway box.â
Bucky huffed out a breath, shaking his head, then pressed a feather-light kiss to your bruise. âThat box is lucky itâs not alive. Otherwise, Iâd have words.â
You laughed, pulling him down into a flour-dusted hug. âMaybe next time Iâll just call my tall and strong boyfriend to grab it for me.â
âDamn right you will,â he muttered into your hair, his grip tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.
a/n: in the middle of looking at old works and found out this cuties here
The door creaked open and Bucky stepped into the apartment he shared with you. Heâd been gone three days on mission.
Bone-tired, ready for nothing more than a shower maybe an hot meal and your arms around his body.
But the sight that greeted him made his stomach plummet.
You were at the counter, frosting cupcakes with your usual precision. Christmas was about to come so you had to prepare the new flavours for your cupcakes.
Flour dusted your apron and a smudge of chocolate on your cheek. What stopped him cold was the darkening bruise marring your forehead, just above your brow.
âSweetheart?â His voice came out sharp, almost strangled.
You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. âOh my god, youâre back.I miss-â
Words dying in your throat seeing his face.
Before you could smile he was already across the room. His massive frame on you in an instant.
Arms circling your shoulders.
Lips trembling.
Eyes narrowing.
His hands hovered by your face, trembling. âWhat happened? Who did this to you?â
You blinked. âBucky-â
âTell me.â His tone was low, urgent. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he couldnât get enough air. âDid a customer do this? Did someone put their hands on you at the bakery? God, doll... you shouldâve called me... I wouldâve-â
Standing in front of him, arms caging you delicately, you began to see how he was ready to go full Winter Soldier mode. You press your palms on his hard chest. âBucky, no, itâs not-â
âDonât protect them,â he interrupted, spiraling faster.
His metal fist clenched so hard you swore you could hear the servos creak. His flesh hand kept hovering, terrified to hurt you further but unable to stop reaching. His eyes never stooped looking at the purple bruise around your eye.
âJust say the name and Iâll make sure they never-â
âBUCKY!â
Your voice cracked, louder than you intended. It made him freeze, eyes snapping to yours in shock.
The panic on his face softened into something almost boyish, like heâd been caught doing something wrong. His lips parted, but no words came.
You sighed, rubbing your flour covered hands down your apron. âBucky, stop... please. Just⌠stop for a second and listen to me.â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, stepping back a half pace like he was giving you space. His shoulders were still tight, his chest still heaving, but he nodded once.
You exhaled, gentler now. âNo one hit me. No one yelled at me. No one touched me. This,â you pointed at your forehead, âwas all me being clumsy. I was reaching for a box of cake pans on the top shelf and it fell. Right on my face.â
Silence.
Bucky stared at you like he couldnât process it, then slowly raked his hand down his face. âYouâre telling meâŚâ His voice was a low rasp. âThat I just had a goddamn heart attack over⌠cookware?â
A guilty smile tugged at your lips. âTechnically bake ware.â
For a long beat, he just stared. Then a short, disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. He shook his head, pressing his hands to his hips. âJesus Christ, doll... I was two seconds away from hunting down every customer youâve ever served.â
You stepped more closer, softening. âAnd thatâs why I had to yell. You were scaring me a little.â
That made him still, his chest tightening. He looked down at you, eyes flickering with guilt. âI scared you?â
âNot because of you,â you reassured quickly, brushing flour-dusted fingers over his jaw. âBecause I could see you slipping. Like you were about to lose yourself. And I didnât want that⌠for you or me.â
His shoulders dropped at that, all the fight draining out of him.
He carefully framed your face in his hands, flesh and metal both gentle as silk. âIâm sorry, doll. I just⌠I canât stand the thought of someone hurting you. Youâre my safe place. If anything took that awayâŚâ His voice cracked.
You leaned into his palms, smiling softly. âThen youâd still have me. Bruises and all. I promise Iâll survive a runaway box.â
Bucky huffed out a breath, shaking his head, then pressed a feather-light kiss to your bruise. âThat box is lucky itâs not alive. Otherwise, Iâd have words.â
You laughed, pulling him down into a flour-dusted hug. âMaybe next time Iâll just call my tall and strong boyfriend to grab it for me.â
âDamn right you will,â he muttered into your hair, his grip tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, pwp, straight porn, missionary, d/s dynamics, softdom!bucky, sub!reader, slight brat!reader, slight dumbification, oral fixation, sweat/spit/teeth kink (idk maybe lol), the aftercare is fucking again, creampie, bucky has a bush . . .
word count: 1.8k
a/n: this is me trying to get some requests finished :") i have a whole bunch, some of which i accidentally turned into long fics, some i hate the things i wrote and am trying to start again and some im figuring out, but this one came to me when i woke up horny for bucky barnes lol
thank you anon for the request !! <3
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The mattress creaks and the frame knocks into the wall, chipping the paint, denting the wood where the two meet.
Forehead to forehead, sweat accumulating with torrid breaths and aching muscles, Bucky's hips caught to yours. Pressing, slamming, holding down as he clenches his glutes and humps, elongating the pleasure, taunting.
But the light chime of his tags kept ringing. They keep batting across your chest, cold and moist, patting your chin and dragging across your skin when you were right there.
It was just as your legs fell open, knees laying up as his dick dragged in and out, and he willed his noises to stay at a minimum, when the tags flittered to the dip of your neck. Your lips parted, sighing, rolling your eyes as it tap tap tap's and sings against your hot skin. You move, careful not to ruin the precision, pressing the chain against his peck, holding them firm to his chest.
At first, Bucky almost sat up, almost paused to ask if you were okay â pushing at his sternum, brows taut and eyes glassy, whining with every breath. Instead he pushed deeper, metal fingers drawing up your body until they held your jaw, squeezing your cheeks, making you look into his eyes.
"What's the matter?" His breath sticks to your face, bumping his nose to yours. "Pushin' me away? C'mon, speak to me."
You can't. That's the problem. It feels like with each pull and push, each pulse around his cock, and every kiss his tip grants your cervix, he drives all linguistic knowledge out of your brain, spilling it from your lips in garbled nonsense and breathy moans.
A whiney hum spills out as you tighten your lips into a line, keeping your jaw firm. You lean back into the pillow, shutting your eyes trying to find any semblance of words, but his hips keep moving. Slower now, yet still as effective, still holding you rigid and perfectly, and tauntingly precise. Rutting the length of himself inside of you while the fuzz of hair that littered the base kept grazing your clit. It isn't until one hand claws at the meat of his shoulder, and the other, the hand that pushed at the chain, leaving tiny dents in it's wake, fisted at the metal.
It clinks as the tags stay dangling from your palm, bumping to and fro.
"Oh, sweetheart," Bucky soothes, the warm metal of his thumb strokes against your bottom lip, slicked with spit and salty with sweat. "We're they botherin' you?"
You nod quickly, leaving a sharp smile on his face, dipping down to leave gentle kisses against your jaw.
"My smart girl," you keen into the praise, leaning deeper into his hand, letting his voice rasp and vibrate into your skin, leaving more room for him to lick and kiss. "Thought you wanted me to stop."
Ardently, you shake your head, ruffling your hair into the pillow behind you.
"No, no stopping. 'M not gonna stop." And he doesn't. His flesh hand replaces your own around the tags and he slots them between his teeth.
Salt and iron cover his tongue, sweat that had dripped from his down body, and your own that had mixed in as it had laid against your own skin, or tapped annoyingly your neck. It makes a dull sound as they sat firmly between his teeth, braced to the side, just where his molars start and his canines dig into the printed letters of his name.
It shouldn't be hot.
The sight of his mouth full, his teeth bared, carrying something precious with an iron grip of his jaw, made your walls pulse. You almost wanted to swap it out, to reach up and take the tags in your own mouth, enveloped in the debauched taste of century old metal, skin and spit.
But its hedonic. You love how he looks. Skin slick, chest heaving, drool already pooling at the edges of the tags, at the corner of his mouth right where his lips met. Animalistic in a way.
"There we go, there we go," his speech muffled, yet still affirmative and firm as he brings back the pace. Making your head drop back and mouth hang open on a gasp, arching your back. The warmth of his palm glides up your torso, leaving goosebumps as he drags up and down, before pulling your leg up by the thigh to latch onto his waist and holding you firmly at the hip. All while holding himself up on his forearm, vibranium fingers holding the top of your head reassuringly, grazing his thumb on your hairline.
He hums, unable to speak with his mouth full, unable to gather the spit about to fall. Your hands claw at the contorting muscles of his shoulder blades, moving to capture his hair between your fingers.
The tug you force has him stuttering, hips pressing to your own, the hair surrounding his base tickles again, right against your nub.
"Ohâfuck," you breathe out, jaw slack and tight all at once, the light feeling of release easing up your back as your thighs begin to tingle and tremble around his torso. "Bucky⌠Bucky, please."
The rivulets of spit drop, coating your neck and chin, and he follows them down until his hot, wet breath finds your temple. His chest caves with each inhale, keeping his hips up, holding down the pace that has you throbbing up his shaft, your nails digging into his shoulder and thighs shaking. He can feel the ring around the root of him, creamy and white, mixed in with the dark patch of hair.
The tags tinkle dully, let go from the cell of his teeth to lay wet next to your neck. You pay no mind to the slurping sound of him gathering spit from his lips; only staying in the blissed out haze of Bucky's body atop of yours and his pretty cock slapping in and out of you.
"C'mon, c'monâŚ" he repeats like a mantra, whispering under his breath, heated on the shell of your ear. "You got it, fuck, you feel so good. Wanna cumâcum inside of you, wanna push it in deep, n'keep fuckin' it in⌠Please, please, pleaseâŚ"
As your nails print crescents into his skin, your mouth holds a jumble of 'yes's to his shoulder. Balm and torrid to the meat of his shoulder, your body locks and a sweet ache begins to release around the stretch of him. Your lips press to his collarbone, muffling the shudders and whines and gasps that release as he fucks you through it, wet slaps and mumbled grunts chorusing together while you jolt and pulse.
It isn't long until he follows through, finishing deep inside, pressing and holding himself as his cock twitches with each spurt of cum. As if awoken from his daze, he keeps his hips moving.
Splatterings of white coat both of your pelvises and thighs, shuddering with overstimulation, muscles limp from overexertion, eyes half lidded and lips parted and red.
Bucky slowed himself as your jerking lessened and your teeth bared to hiss at the mild pain, and his dick softened. He watched, holding himself up with his knuckles to the pillow, guiding the softer limb to stay inside of your full warmth, uncaring about the mess that now coats his fingers â absentmindedly licking them off like candy residue.
Sighs and soft groans alike leave you both as he slips out. Your nails caress his torso, gliding gently up the red marks you printed on his back, down to the sensitive muscles of his ass, making him twitch and press his hips to yours again with a stifled laugh to your jaw.
"Careful, might get hard again before I can clean you up." He kisses and breathes you in, holding you into his body as your fingers hold their gentle rhythm.
You huff a lazy version of a laugh, nosing against the sweet smell of sweat where his neck meets his shoulder.
"Oh no, how awful," You croak sarcastically. The weakness in your voice makes you both laugh fully, rumbling chests pressed against one another, cheeks tight with smiles, and eyes watching with warm fragments. After a short moment of silence, of lungs catching up, you follow down the column of his neck to where his dog tags laid lopsided on your chest, and hummed. "I liked that thing you did."
"'That thing'?" He pressed, smirking, lowering his voice. "I've got many things goin' for me, sweetheart, be specific."
Another laugh breaks, crinkling your eyes at the corners, playfully pushing at his chest.
"That dog tag thing, you know, putting them in your mouth."
"You liked that?"
You nodded, fervently. "Uh-huh. Very much."
His lips move into a soft smile, catching the slick metal cards between his fingers to bring them up.
"That so?" He teases quietly, dragging them across your bottom lip, leaving the dewy residue to sit, sliding them just between the seam of your lips only to jut it out with a pop. "Maybe next time you can hold them for me?"
With your tongue poking out, you get a taste of the flavour that pooled alongside Bucky's own tongue. Musky and sour, tangy with body heat. And with a soft press on your thigh, you know that you're under a limit.
"Next time meaning five minutes?" You prod, tilting your head innocently. "Haven't even gotten cleaned up and it seems like little Sergeant Barnes is reporting for duty."
With a tut, he holds your chin, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, fuck that and your smart mouth. Open wide, hold tight."
You obey and bite down as he slots the tags between your teeth, tugging at the chain twice to test out your grip. You scrunch your nose and furrow your brows, playfully pulling back at the chain. The grotesque brackishness of the tester you got grips you fully and drips down your throat.
"'Little Sergeant Barnes'," he repeats, sitting up as far as he could to grab ahold on himself. Sticky, wet and just as hard as before. He strokes himself, groaning as he fists tighter at his ruddy tip, coaxing a pearl of precum. Defiantly, he taps his heaviness on your clit. "Keep that up and making sure every inch of you aches with me the next day, understood?"
A giggle bubbles up before you could force it down. He slaps his cock against your clit again, holding and coating it down and between your lips, still creamy and dripping his own release, bullying your button with his tip. Your whine is muffled between your teeth as you bear them down.
"Understood?" He pushes, voice firmer, harsher, and you nod, heart racing, ribs already quivering. The sounds of your joint bodies squelch louder and louder, as your head lays dizzier and dizzier, but his voice whispers so soft and the way he terrorises and hounds your insides brings stars to the corners of your eyes.
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Note I don't even know what this is, you guys. I wanted to post this when the world cup started but then things happened and then my team was eliminated last sunday and now i am sad. Anyways, Bucky is a football/fĂştbol (i can't call it soccer) player here and reader is a singer... why is she a singer? the real question is, why not? Also, Becca being the best wing woman? We love to fucking see it. There's smut here, it's very soft and barely there but it's there so, be aware.
The roar of the stadium was a physical thing, a wave of sound that vibrated through the concrete and into the very marrow of your bones. Youâd felt it a thousand times from the stage, a different kind of energy, a different kind of love. But this was something else. This was raw, primal, and utterly centered on twenty-two men chasing a ball. You were tucked away in the family box, feeling like a fraud in a sea of jerseys and painted faces, all thanks to a persistent, and frankly, terrifyingly enthusiastic, young woman named Rebecca Barnes.
Her grip on your arm was like a vice, her eyes wide with a star-struck fervor that was both endearing and slightly alarming. âOh my God, oh my God, heâs looking this way! Did you see that? He just winked! I think he winked at you!â
You followed her gaze to the pitch, where her brother, Bucky, was indeed jogging back into position, a stray lock of dark hair plastered to his forehead, his focus absolute. He hadnât winked at the box; you were certain of it. He was too locked in, a predator on the hunt. But you couldnât bring yourself to crush Beccaâs spirit. She was the reason you were here, after all.
It had started with a simple, direct message on Instagram. A string of emojis, a gushing declaration of love for your latest album, and a plea for a signed poster. You had a soft spot for earnest fans, and her profile, a collage of your album art and her brotherâs football stats, was a clear indicator of her two main obsessions. Youâd sent the poster, and a short, friendly note. A week later, you were the subject of a near-daily barrage of messages from her, culminating in a surprisingly persuasive argument for why you should attend a match.
"Itâs not just a game, itâs a cultural experience! And my brother is the best player on the team, I swear. Youâll get to see a real athlete in his element. Please? For me? For the signed poster?"
The request had been so absurdly earnest, and you were so desperately bored of the endless cycle of studio sessions and promotional interviews, that youâd said yes. And now, here you were, watching the man himself, James Buchanan Barnes, or âBuckyâ as everyone called him, orchestrate the game with a quiet, devastating intensity.
He wasnât a flashy player. There were no showboating tricks or flamboyant dives. His game was built on grace and power, a deceptively languid stride that exploded into breathtaking speed. Heâd receive a pass, control it with a single, effortless touch, and then send it screaming across the pitch to a teammate with laser-guided precision. He was the fulcrum, the quiet engine that made the entire machine work. It was captivating. And you absolutely hated how captivating you found it.
The media had been having a field day since the first grainy photos surfaced of you leaving a charity gala together three months ago. Youâd been seated at the same table, a stroke of luck for the gossip columns, and a single, perfectly timed photograph of him leaning in to hear you over the din of the crowd had ignited a wildfire of speculation. "Sunshine Girl and Winter Soldier!", "Barnesâs New Flame?". The rumor mill had been churning ever since, and your publicist was having a coronary. The constant use of your nicknames were a lot now and youâd done your best to quell the speculation, issuing a brief, diplomatic statement about a chance encounter and a shared acquaintance. Heâd done the same, a clipped, dismissive reply to a reporterâs question that youâd seen on a sports highlights reel. Youâd scoffed at his curtness, even as a tiny, traitorous part of you felt a prickle of⌠something. Annoyance, youâd told yourself. Pure professional annoyance. That night at the gala, youâd exchanged perhaps five words, polite nothings about the food and the acoustics of the hall. It had been nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet, youâd found yourself scrolling through photos of him later that night, cursing your own curiosity.
The match ended in a decisive victory for his team, Barnes scoring the final, stunning goal with a shot so powerful it seemed to bend the air around it. As the final whistle blew, Becca, who had been practically vibrating with excitement, looked at you with pleading eyes. âYou have to come to the afterparty! Please? Itâs at the hotel where theyre staying. Everyone will be there, and Bucky will be so happy to see you.â
You opened your mouth to politely decline, to cite the need for an early night, but the words died on your lips. You saw him then, jogging over to a section of the stands where some children were waving. He signed a jersey, his face breaking into a genuine, unguarded smile that softened the hard lines of his jaw. It was a disarming sight, a flash of kindness that felt entirely at odds with the taciturn, intimidating figure youâd been building in your head.
Becca followed your gaze, a knowing smile playing on her lips. âHeâs not usually like that, you know. With the press, I mean. He loves seeing the fans, mostly the young ones. Heâs always so⌠closed off. But ever since that gala, heâs been different. Quieter. He doesnât talk about it, but I can tell. He asked me about you, you know. Casual, like he didnât really care. But I know my brother.â She paused, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âItâs been a long time since I saw him that captivated by someone. Heâs not the type to have flings. Heâs so careful, so private. Itâs not like heâs checking out women left and right. Iâm almost sure itâs been a really long time since he went out with anyone. You shouldâve seen him that night at the gala. He couldnât stop looking at you.â
You felt a flush creep up your neck. âIt was just a conversation, Becca. Barely even that.â
âSure,â she said, her tone dripping with amused skepticism. âJust a conversation. Itâs been just a conversation the, what? Twenty times you have seen each other in just three months? Thatâs why heâs been acting like a grumpy bear for three months, right? Come on. One drink. For me?â
âFine,â you heard yourself say. âOne drink.â
The private club was a haze of dark wood, low lighting, and thrumming bass. The atmosphere was raucous, a celebration spilling over with champagne and triumphant back-slapping. You were a fish out of water, a creature of spotlights and silent recording booths, not this boisterous, testosterone-fueled environment. Becca was immediately swept away by a group of friends, leaving you to fend for yourself.
You were nursing a glass of the pink wine Becca loves talking about, trying to find a corner to disappear into, when a large, warm presence materialized at your back. âYou came.â
His voice was a low rumble, laced with the barest hint of surprise. You turned. Bucky Barnes, no longer in his kit but in a simple, dark henley and jeans, looked even more formidable up close. He smelled of soap and expensive cologne and a faint, clean musk that was entirely his own.
âYour sister is very persuasive,â you replied, your voice cooler than you intended. âSheâs also very observant.â
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. âThat she is. Sheâs been talking about you for months. She claims youâre a big deal.â
The statement was blunt, almost an accusation. You bristled. âItâs not a competition, Barnes. Iâm just a person who makes music.â
âSo Iâve heard.â He took a sip from the bottle of beer in his hand, his gaze never leaving yours. It was unnerving, this directness. âYouâre good. I listened to your album. The new one.â
The admission caught you completely off guard. Youâd assumed he was just humoring his sister, that your career was an abstract concept to him, a distant world he had no interest in. âYou did?â
âDonât look so surprised,â he said, his lips twitching. âI have ears. And Becca has a very loud speaker system. It was hard to avoid. Has been non-stop at the apartment since last week you released it.â He paused, his eyes searching yours. âBut I didnât want to avoid it. The song about the city at night. That one stayed with me.â
You remembered the song. It was a deeply personal one, written during a period of intense loneliness, about the feeling of being surrounded by millions of people and yet completely, utterly alone. The fact that he had not only heard it but connected with it sent a strange thrill through you. âThatâs⌠actually really kind of you to say. Thank you.â
He nodded, a small, almost shy gesture that was so at odds with his public persona. âI mean it.â He gestured with his beer bottle towards a quieter corner. âWant to get out of this chaos?â
You should have said no. You should have cited your impending departure, your need for a quiet night. But the press of bodies and the relentless chatter were suffocating, and the idea of a momentâs respite with someone who, despite your best efforts, you found increasingly intriguing, was too tempting. You followed him to a small, secluded balcony overlooking the city skyline. The cool night air was a balm on your heated skin.
âThank you,â you said, leaning against the railing. âFor the rescue.â
âDonât mention it.â He stood a respectful distance away, but his presence was immense, filling the small space. âBecca got a bit carried away, Iâm guessing. Sheâs a force of nature.â
âSheâs wonderful,â you said, and you meant it. âShe reminds me of myself a little, when I was her age. All that passion and energy.â
He was quiet for a moment, studying the city lights. âWe lost our mom a few years ago. I had to step up, be the parent and the brother and I try to be the brother mosto f the time. She was only thirteen and⌠sometimes I think she clings to things, to people, because itâs easier than being alone. Sheâs nineteen now but I still see that little girl, you know?â
The confession was unexpected, a crack in his carefully constructed armor. It made you see him in a new light, not just as a sports star or a reluctant acquaintance, but as a man who had shouldered a terrible burden and tried to protect the person he loved most. The way heâd been at the gala, the way heâd looked at you across the table, suddenly made a different kind of sense. He wasnât just an aloof athlete; he was a man who carried weight, who chose his connections carefully.
âThatâs why you took her to the game?â you asked softly. âBecause she wanted to go?â
He shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. âNo. I didnât take her. She avoids that most of the time but she wanted you there, said she wanted to see if you were actually a real person because she has only seen you in the parties.â He laughed, a low, gravelly sound that did something strange to your stomach. âShe just has a way of getting what she wants. Sheâs a lot like you, I think. You didnât want to come, did you?â
âNo,â you admitted, surprising yourself with your honesty. âBut Iâm glad I did.â
He turned to face you then, and the air between them grew thick, charged. His gaze traveled over your face, pausing on your lips before meeting your eyes again. âThe press is having a field day, you know. Has been since that gala.â
âTell me about it,â you scoffed. âMy publicist is convinced Iâm going to get eaten alive by the tabloids. She nearly had a heart attack when those photos came out.â
âTheyâre saying weâre a couple,â he stated, a hint of something unreadable in his voice. âAgain.â
âTheyâre saying a lot of things,â you countered, trying to match his dismissive tone. âItâs just gossip. Itâll blow over.â
âYeah,â he agreed, but his voice was quiet. âIt will.â He took a step closer, and you were suddenly acutely aware of every inch of space between you, or the lack thereof. He was close enough that you could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, the flecks of lighter blue in his irises. âBut what if I donât want it to?â
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. This was a terrible idea. He was a public figure, just like you. Getting involved would be a PR nightmare, a tabloid frenzy. But the look in his eyes, that potent, focused intensity that youâd first noticed at the gala, was making your brain short-circuit. He wasnât looking at you like you were a conquest, a notch on his belt. He was looking at you like heâd been waiting, like this moment had been building for months.
âYouâre a public figure,â you managed, your voice a little breathless. âWe both are. This is insane. People will talk.â
âMost things worth having are,â he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch of his fingertips on your skin was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. âThe press, the speculation, the whole circus⌠it doesnât matter. Not if you donât want it to. And I donât. Iâve been thinking about you since that night at the gala. Couldnât get you out of my head.
He was so close now, his scent enveloping you, the heat of his body a palpable force. Your logic was screaming at you to pull away, to laugh it off, to retreat to the safety of your carefully constructed world. But the rest of you, the part that was tired of being alone, of the constant performance, was whispering something else entirely. The memory of how heâd looked at you across that crowded room, the way heâd leaned in, the brief, electric brush of his fingers against yours as heâd passed you a glass of champagneâit had all been simmering beneath the surface for months.
âJamesâŚâ you started, but the protest was weak, a mere whisper.
âThatâs my name,â he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. âSay it again, please.â
And then his mouth was on yours. The kiss wasnât gentle or tentative. It was demanding, possessive, a claim. It was the culmination of months of denial, of stolen glances and suppressed curiosity. His lips were firm and warm, tasting of beer and something uniquely him. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. A shudder ran through him at your touch, and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back, and he kissed you like he was starving, like you were the only thing that could sate a hunger heâd been carrying for far too long.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing as ragged as your own. âWe should probably go inside,â he muttered, but he made no move to let you go. âBefore someone sees. I donât want to share this. Not yet.â
âProbably,â you agreed, but you were still clutching his shirt, your body humming with a need you couldnât name.
He didnât take you inside. He took your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, and led you away from the balcony, down a quiet hallway, and into a small, private room that was clearly reserved for him. It was a simple space, a leather couch and a table, a far cry from the opulence of the club at the hotel. . His grip was firm, possessive, his thumb tracing idle circles on the inside of your wrist as he pulled you along. The private room was a small, simple space, but he didnât stop there. He guided you through another door, one you hadnât noticed, and suddenly you were in a different world entirely.
He pushed it open, revealing a bedroomâhis bedroom, you realized with a jolt. It was surprisingly minimal, all dark wood and crisp white linens, a king-sized bed dominating the space. A single, soft lamp cast a warm glow over the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the world outside ceased to exist. The noise, the lights, the pressureâit all melted away. The only thing that remained was the heat of his gaze, the rapid beat of his heart against your palm as you traced the hard line of his jaw.
âYouâre a menace,â you breathed, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. âLeading me to your bedroom like this.â
âIâve been called worse,â he whispered, his voice husky as he leaned in to kiss your neck. âBut Iâll take it. Coming from you. You have no idea how long Iâve been thinking about this. About you. Iâve been going out of my mind. Three months of watching you on every screen, hearing your voice on the radio, and I couldnât do a damn thing about it.â
His mouth was on your pulse point, a hot, wet sensation that made your knees buckle. You could feel the sharp edge of his teeth, the soothing flick of his tongue, and it sent a sharp bolt of pure, unadulterated want straight to your core. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, a soft gasp escaping you as he found a spot that made your vision blur.
âYou smell incredible,â he murmured against your skin, his words a warm puff of breath that raised goosebumps on your arms. âI donât think Iâve been able to think clearly since you walked onto that balcony. Since the gala, really. You ruined me.â
He pulled back, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your face, your body. He was searching for permission, for a sign that you wanted this as much as he did. You answered by pulling him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, a promise whispered against his lips.
His hands moved from your hair, tracing a path down your spine, the heat of his palms searing through the thin fabric of your dress. He found the zipper at your back, his fingers fumbling for a moment before he let out a frustrated growl against your lips. âThis is a very complicated dress,â he mumbled, his accent thickening with his frustration, a fact that sent a surprising thrill through you.
âIt wasnât supposed to be easy,â you whispered, your voice laced with a giddy, breathless laughter. âBut itâs gonna be worth it, James.â
He finally managed to undo the zipper, a low sound of triumph rumbling in his chest as the fabric loosened. The dress slithered down your shoulders, pooling around your feet in a whisper of silk. He took a step back, his gaze dropping, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face as he took in the sight of you in just your lace underwear.
âFuck,â he breathed, his voice reverent. âYouâre trying to kill me, honey. Youâre the most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen.â
He reached for you again, his hands possessive, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He unhooked your bra with surprising dexterity, his thumb ghosting over your hardened nipple, making you gasp. He lowered his head, his hot mouth closing around the peak, his tongue swirling and teasing until you were a trembling mess in his arms. The scrape of his stubble against your sensitive skin was a delicious friction, a contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. He lavished attention on both breasts, his hands cupping and kneading, his mouth worshiping, and you could feel the evidence of his own desire pressing insistently against your thigh.
âBucky, please,â you begged, not even sure what you were asking for, only knowing you needed more. âI need you.â
He answered your plea by sweeping you off your feet, carrying you the few steps to the bed and laying you down with a surprising gentleness. He loomed over you, a dark silhouette against the dim light, and the sight of him, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a raw hunger, took your breath away. The white sheets were cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body hovering above you.
He shed his shirt in a single, fluid movement, revealing a canvas of taut muscle and pale skin, his body honed to a perfect edge of athletic power. A trail of dark hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans, and your fingers itched to touch him, to trace the lines of his body. You reached up, your hands gliding over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles jump beneath your touch. He groaned, his eyes closing for a moment, as if your touch alone was enough to undo him.
âYou have no idea,â he murmured, his voice strained, âhow long Iâve wanted to feel your hands on me. Iâve replayed that night at the gala a hundred times, wondering what it would be like if Iâd just had the courage to ask for your number. Wondering what youâd feel like beneath me.â
He lowered himself, his lips tracing a path down your stomach, leaving a trail of searing kisses. He paused at your navel, his tongue dipping in, and you shuddered beneath him, your fingers threading through his hair. He worked his way lower, his mouth hot and demanding, his stubble leaving a delicious burn on your sensitive skin. He reached the waistband of your panties, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric and pulling them down, his movements slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. He discarded them carelessly, his focus entirely on the expanse of skin now bared before him.
He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders pushing your legs apart, and the sight of him there, his dark hair contrasting with your pale skin, was almost too much to bear. He looked up at you, his eyes hooded and dark with desire. âIâve been dreaming about this,â he admitted, his voice a low, rough growl. âAbout tasting you. About hearing you fall apart because of me.â
And then his mouth was on you, and coherent thought became impossible. His tongue was a revelation, skilled and relentless, finding every sensitive spot with devastating precision. He licked a broad, flat stripe up your center, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth. The sensation was electric, a sharp bolt of pleasure that made your hips buck against his face. He groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of sensation through your body.
He was methodical, almost reverent, his mouth working you with a focus that bordered on obsession. He alternated between broad, languid licks that had you writhing and quick, targeted flicks of his tongue that made you gasp his name. He slid one thick finger inside you, then another, curling them just right, finding that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He pumped them slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, then faster as your moans grew louder, more desperate.
âLook at me,â he commanded, his voice muffled against your flesh. âI want to see your face when you come.â
You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze as he continued his assault on your senses. The sight of him between your thighs, his lips slick with your arousal, his eyes burning with a possessive hunger, was enough to push you over the edge. Your climax hit you like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, your back arching off the bed as a cry tore from your throat. He didnât stop, his tongue continuing its relentless rhythm, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess beneath him.
When the waves finally subsided, he crawled back up your body, his skin slick with sweat, his eyes hooded with a deep, possessive satisfaction. He kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips, an intimacy that was both shocking and utterly perfect. He was hard against your thigh, the evidence of his own desire impossible to ignore, straining against the denim of his jeans.
âTell me what you want,â he whispered, his voice raw with need. âTell me, and itâs yours. Anything.â
âI want you,â you managed, your voice still breathless. âI want all of you. Please, Bucky.â
He rolled off the bed, his movements quick and purposeful. He crossed to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and retrieving a foil packet. He held it up, his eyes meeting yours, a question in his gaze. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small, approving smile.
He returned to the edge of the bed, his fingers working the button of his jeans with deliberate slowness. He pushed them down, along with his boxer briefs, and you finally saw all of him. He was beautiful, every inch of him, his cock thick and straining, the tip glistening with evidence of his arousal. The sight of him made your mouth water, made you ache with the need to feel him inside you.
He tore the foil packet open with his teeth, a gesture that was unexpectedly primal, and rolled the condom on with practiced ease. He wasnât shy about it, not fumbling or awkward. He handled it with the same confidence he brought to everything else, his eyes never leaving yours. He was a man who knew what he wanted and wasnât afraid to take it, and the knowledge that what he wanted was you sent a thrill of pure, unadulterated power through your body.
He crawled onto the bed, covering your body with his, the heat of him searing against your skin. He positioned himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, and paused, his eyes searching yours.
âLook at me,â he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. âI want to see your eyes when Iâm inside you. I want to remember this. Every fucking second.â
You held his gaze as he pushed into you, a slow, deliberate thrust that stole your breath. He was big, stretching you in a way that was almost overwhelming, but the fullness, the completeness of it, was intoxicating. He stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged.
âYou feel amazing,â he groaned, his voice a low, guttural sound. âSo perfect. Like you were made for this. For me. Fuck, Iâve been dreaming about this for months. You have no idea.â
He began to move, a rhythm that was both powerful and controlled, a testament to his athletic grace. Each thrust was a deep, deliberate stroke, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. He was a man possessed, his focus absolute, his every movement designed to bring you both to the edge and beyond. His hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts, his touch possessive and reverent all at once.
âYou feel so good,â he murmured against your ear, his voice rough and raw. âSo tight. So perfect. I could stay inside you forever, you know that? Just like this.â
He shifted his angle, and a new wave of pleasure built within you, coiling tight and fast. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your nails raking across his skin as you felt yourself soaring. He groaned at the sensation, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, more urgent.
âThatâs it,â he urged, his voice a husky growl. âLet go, baby. I want to feel you come undone for me. Iâve been waiting so long to see you like this.â
He reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and pressing down in a circular motion that made you gasp. The dual sensationâhis thick length filling you, his thumb working your sensitive nubâwas too much, too good. You felt the pressure building, a coil winding tighter and tighter in your belly.
âBucky, Iâm going toââ you gasped, the words dissolving into a moan.
âThatâs it,â he commanded, his hips never slowing. âCome for me. Let go. Iâve got you, honey.â
His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, and you knew he was close too. The thought of him losing control because of you, because of the way your body felt wrapped around him, sent you hurtling over the edge. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision going white as you cried out his name, your body clenching around him in a series of rhythmic, pulsing contractions.
The sensation of you coming undone around him was too much for him to bear. He thrust into you one last time, a deep, grinding stroke, and you felt him shudder, a low, ragged cry escaping his lips as he spilled himself inside you, buried as deep as he could go. His hips continued to twitch, small, involuntary thrusts as he rode out his own climax, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. He stayed inside you, his weight a warm, comforting presence, his heart hammering against your chest in a frantic rhythm that matched your own. He pressed soft, lazy kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, as if he couldnât get enough of the taste of your skin. His hands roamed your body, gentle now, soothing, as if he was memorizing every curve, every plane.
Finally, he propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with an expression you couldnât quite decipher. His eyes were soft, almost reverent, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a slow, satisfied smile. âWell,â he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. âThat was better than the game and we know that was really amazing, I did great there.â
A surprised laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the tension. âHumble,â you teased, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. âVery humble. Youâre a jerk.â You say, knowing heâs joking.
âItâs not a competition,â he said, echoing your earlier words, his smile widening. âBut if it was, I think I just won.â He paused, his expression softening. âIâve been thinking about this for months, you know. I didnât think it would actually happen. I didnât think youâd ever want me.â
You traced the furrow between his brows, the worry lines that had settled there, and felt a surge of affection so powerful it nearly stole your breath. âI didnât think youâd ever want me either. You seemed so⌠uninterested at the gala. Like I was just another person in the room.â
He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. âUninterested? I couldnât take my eyes off you. I was terrified youâd notice. I spent the whole night trying to find an excuse to talk to you, and when I finally did, I said something stupid about the food. Iâve been kicking myself for three months.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât stop the smile that spread across your own face. âThe paps are going to have a field day when they find out I was in your private room for an hour.â
âLet them,â he said, the earlier anxiety gone, replaced by a newfound certainty. He kissed the tip of your nose. âLet them talk. Itâs just noise. You and me, weâre something else. Something real.â He paused, his expression growing serious. âWeâre gonna be here way more than an hour, honey.I think Beccaâs going to lose her mind. Sheâs been shipping us since that gala.â
You groaned, burying your face in his chest. âDonât remind me. Sheâs really been going non-stop, saying that youre great all the time and not a dipshit like most football players.â
He laughed, a full, genuine sound that you could feel vibrating through his whole body. âLet her. Sheâs just that enthusiastic. Sheâd probably be a good wedding planner. Has a lot of energy.â
âAnd a lot of opinions,â you added, laughing along with him. The sound of your laughter mingled in the dimly lit room, a perfect, private harmony.
He didnât move right away. He stayed above you, his body a warm, solid weight, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. He kissed you again, softer this time, a slow, languid kiss that held no urgency, just a deep, quiet contentment. His hand slid down your side, over your hip, cupping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist. He was still inside you, softening but still present, and the intimacy of it made your heart ache.
âI donât want this to be just tonight,â he murmured against your lips. âI donât want to wake up tomorrow and pretend this didnât happen. I want to see you again. I want to take you on a real date, somewhere without cameras and screaming fans. I want to get to know you, the real you, not the version of you that the world sees.â
You looked up at him, at the vulnerability in his eyes, and felt something shift deep in your chest. This wasnât just a hookup. This wasnât a one-night stand. This was a beginning, a tentative, fragile beginning to something that could be so much more.
âIâd like that,â you said softly. âIâd like that a lot.â
He smiled, a real smile, one that reached his eyes and made him look years younger, carefree in a way you hadnât seen before. He kissed you again, and you could feel the promise in it, the hope of something new.
Later, he rolled off of you, his body leaving yours with a reluctance that was palpable. He disposed of the condom in the small bin beside the bed, his movements unhurried, and then returned to you, pulling you into his arms. He tucked you against his side, your head on his chest, his hand stroking your hair. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a soothing lullaby, and you felt yourself drifting, wrapped in warmth and the scent of him.
âIâll drive you home,â he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. âIf you want. Or you can stay. Thereâs a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I keep them for Becca, but you can use one. Whatever you want.â
You tilted your head up to look at him, at the man who had been a reluctant, frustrating presence in your life for months, now looking at you like you were the only person in the world. The fame, the scrutiny, the endless performanceâit all faded away. There was only him, and the promise of more. âOkay,â you said, your voice a quiet whisper. âYeah. Iâd like to stay. Iâd like to wake up with you.â
He smiled, that devastating, unguarded smile, and pulled you closer. âGood. Because I wasnât really planning on letting you go anyway.â
And as you lay there, wrapped in his arms, the soft glow of the lamp casting dancing shadows on the ceiling, you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that this was just the beginning. The months of denial, the forced indifference, the careful distance... it all crumbled away. There was only him, and the weight of his arms, and the knowledge that whatever came next, youâd face it together.
Summary: What if the hottest thing Bucky Barnes has ever heard is a language he canât understand? While everyone else is trying to translate your words, Bucky is far more interested in the way they sound rolling off your tongue. The more time he spends with you, the less he believes he needs to understand you at all. Besides, there are plenty of ways to talk.
PSA (Pink Service Announcement): brining back Bucky Barnes the flirt. he never died because i said so. set around TFATWS. I couldn't find any canoncial evidence of Bucky speaking French but I didnât look that hard. you don't need to translate anything to understand what's happening, but if you want to please feel free!
Word Count: 6.3k
Warnings: google translate French, gratuitous use of italics. Bucky Barnes goes to the club, cursing, grinding on the dance floor, hot and heavy make out, oral (fem receiving)
DT: the bestest betas a girl could ever ask for, my sweet @artficlly, @heldbybarnes, and addy (I still canât believe you know French), thank you guys so much for reading I truly would not have made it through this last stretch of writing without you. I owe you all a billion kisses or Jell-O shots, please let me know what you prefer!
also dividers by the extraordinarily talented @barnesonly
Bucky's first mistake was taking his eyes off the target.Â
Eyes straying from his mark across the room, first exit, second exit, and the large window. His eyes sweep the entire room, mentally checking every off every possible escape route. Calculating every possible entrance where someone could sneak in. Call it an old habit, call it paranoia, call it boredom. Bucky doesn't fucking care, it's just what he does. Working or not.
Whatever it is, it leads to his eyes sweeping right over you.Â
Bald suit, bald suit, gaudy heiress, bald suit, you, bald suit, billionaire-
You.
That's Bucky's second mistake, letting himself do a double take.Â
It's less conscious than that though, like catching his reflection in a mirror. His eyes move on their own accord, sliding away from his careful profiling and locking solely onto you.Â
Draped in silk and sin, poised and perfectly posed. You're perched on a bar stool, entertaining a small group of bald suits with wild hand gestures and well timed grazes of your hand.Â
He watches one of your manicured fingers reach out and adjust the lapels of one of their jackets. It's the only time Bucky's ever wished he had his father's hairline.Â
The movement is practiced, too perfect to be anything but well-rehearsed. You move like mercury, gentle and smooth. Like you could kill him if he dared to touch you.Â
Bucky's third mistake is abandoning his position. It's bad enough he's lost sight of the target, that bald suit went to bathroom three minutes ago. Oblivious, Bucky abandons his spot in the shadows. Losing any vantage point he may have had and walking straight through the heart of the crowd.Â
He can't be bothered with politeness, shouldering his way between conversations without even sparing them even an apologetic glance. It's only ten strides, maybe twelve before he has you back within view.Â
It's even worse up close, the curve of your chin, the tilt of your smile and the way your tongue peeks out between your lips to grab a wandering drop of champagne off the rim of your glass.
His fourth mistake is looking at your lips.Â
Pretty, plush, painted with perfect precision. They only serve to tighten your already iron clad grip on him. He doesn't hear a word you say, he already knows your voice will match the rest of you.Â
It's enchanting, the way they curve around each word. He's never taken much stock of how people look when they talk. A mouth moves and he takes no thrill in the way it shapes sound. Until yours. Until he saw them part to allow a laugh passage. Suddenly he's quite sure there's nothing sexier.Â
Like Venus has pulled him into her orbit, another moon for her collection.Â
Bucky doesn't stop until he's close enough to hear the men around you, chuckles, music and the clinking of dishes all falling to distant static.Â
Bucky's fifth mistake is not realizing that there is no static, at least not in the bubble surrounding you. In fact your circle of jesters has gone quiet, beady eyes staring into him as he obliviously stares at you.Â
A hand passes back and forth in front of his face, finally freeing him from his reverie.Â
When Bucky comes to there's laughter again, at his expense.Â
He doesn't even care, too busy processes that he can actually hear it this time. Ringing out an octave above the rest is your giggle, distinctly feminine. It sounds rehearsed, borderline unnatural, as if you've had to force it up your throat and then pitched it be heard above the rest.
It's fake, obviously so. At least to anyone willing to actually listen.
You're talking then, face turned toward him with a smirk on your lips. Your voice is smooth, velveteen. It pulls him in, as if you're giving him all of your attention with every word.Â
Bucky leans closer, all of his focus swimming around the sound of your speech.Â
It hits him all at once.Â
He's listening, hard. His ear turned toward your face to make sure he doesn't miss a syllable and-
He can't understand a word you say.Â
What is that? Russian? German? No, he knows those. He only speaks of a little bit of Slovakian, but it doesn't sound like that's it either.Â
It's melodic, although Bucky can't be sure if that's the language or just you.
You stare at him expectantly when you're done, voice lilting up as if you've asked him a question. Head cocked slightly to the side to match.Â
Like you've told him something he should have already known. Alpine gives him the same look when she wake him up at three a.m. to let him know her bowl is empty.Â
You're not a cat though, even if your eye gleam with mischief like one.
Is it French? Maybe you're speaking French?
"I'm sorry I don't-" he fumbles for a moment, heat rushing his cheeks with a vengeance. "I don't speak-"
Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, corners turning down into a soft frown. You say something to the rest of the men, layering it with silk and buttercream.Â
He catches a few more syllables that time, the fluidity as they string together some collection of words. Whatever they are has the men disappearing, a slow retreat. Like how ink dilutes in water. Gone before he can even pretend to sound out the first half of what you said.
Your shoulders lower for just a moment, visibly relaxing as you take a step closer to Bucky.Â
"Agent Barnes, oui?" You ask. Your smile is smaller this time, more friendly than enchanting. His name is different on your tongue, thick and accented. It's slower than before, as if you took extra care crafting it properly on your tongue.
His name has never sounded like that before. Like someone was paying attention, cared about getting it right.
He wants to know yours. Badly.
Wants to trace each of your teeth with his tongue, lick each syllable off it and taste your voice.
He feels like a kid in a school gym, sweaty palmed with a flipping stomach.
That kid never used to falter though. Bucky prays heâs still in him somewhere.Â
Samâs voice cackles in his ear, his tone something between amusement and frustration.
âI see youâve met Sirène.â
Buckyâs eyes snap to yours, Sirène?
âI thought we were solo on this one Sam?â Bucky does his best to keep his voice level, offering you a small nod as he speaks.
âOur guy is wanted in several countries Buck, including hers. We went over all of this in the briefing? They sent her over for backup, yâknow another set of eyes and someone who could sweet talk his foreign associates.â
The bald suits, presumably.
âOh.â
âYeah oh.â Samâs voice trails on, Bucky hears something about plans and paperwork. Buckyâs also pretty sure thereâs a jab about listening ears in there too.
While yeah, he probably should pay more attention during briefings, heâs also pretty sure no file could have adequately prepared him for you.
Youâre still in front of him, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you bite back a laugh.
âSiren?â Bucky repeats, directing the question toward you. Eliciting another giggle.
âSee-ren.â Sam corrects in his ear. âItâs French.â
Bucky feels his confidence build ever so slightly, at least he was right about that.
He tries again, taking the same care that you did with his. It's a code name, of course it is. But it's something.Â
Your grin is enough to turn Sam's voice in his to static.
"Makes sense." Bucky muses, "Pretty sure you could lure any man, anywhere."
Your reply drips like honey, the deepening in your tone unmistakable. "Vous aussi?" You murmur.
Bucky feels his knees start to melt with the way they hit him. Molten and sultry. "I'd fall right in line with them." He continues, unable to directly respond the way he wishes he could.Â
Thirty languages programmed deep in his psyche and somehow French isn't one of them.
"Quel genre d'espion ne parle pas français?" You tease, or at least he thinks you tease.Â
"I should'a listened when my Ma told me to take French in school."
"C'est pas grave, je les aime mignons et bĂŞtes."Â You lean in closer on that one, taking the collar of his shirt between your fingers and smoothing it over.Â
"I don't know what that means but it turns me-"
"Oooh-kay." Sam sing-songs, cutting Bucky off. "If you two are done with whatever this is, we need to find our target."
Shit. Bucky curses. Of course Sam is right, he really should focus.Â
He turns to look at you, something apologetic already half off his tongue when you start to lean in.Â
With a hand on his chest, you toe up and whisper in his ear. Or more accurately, into his ear piece.Â
"Il Dans le coin le plus à droits, assis fauteuil en cuir." You murmur, close enough for your lips to brush the skin oh his ear lobe. "Nous-I'm observe depuis trois minutes."
You pull back, the hand on his chest snaking up to his neck and curling around the back of it. Just enough for the tips of your fingers to dance along the hair at the base of his head.Â
"J'ai entendu sa femme dans la salle de bains. Elle disait qu'il ne fait pas confiance à ceux qui viennent seuls à ce genre d'ÊvÊnement." You continue, all but purring as you rake your nails over his skin. You let out a laugh then, one of the fake ones from earlier. This time you keep it low, soft enough that it won't travel further than the two of you. "Heureusement, je suis venu accompagnÊ d'une belle cavalière."
Bucky's mind in swimming, swirling with the ecstacy of your touch and the vibration of your voice. How is a man supposed to even pretend to listen?Â
"Little help on the translation Sam?" Bucky asks. Doing his best to follow your lead, he slides an arm around your waist, his hand resting heavy over the slope of your hip.Â
He can feel his pulse in his palm, thrumming hard under the skin with nerves. You don't seem to notice, or perhaps care, not bothering to move an inch as Bucky waits for Sam's response.Â
"Our guy is across the room at eight o'clock. He likes couples so she's doing her best to sell it." Sam explains, "So maybe loosen up a bit, give her a hand yeah?"
Bucky feels his throat bob as he swallows, his tongue suddenly gone thick. His nod is short, hardly visible and too stiff for the kind of level head this situation calls for.Â
"Yeah." Bucky exhales, "I can do that."
He forces himself to ignore Sam's chuckled Can you? in his ear.
"Respirer profondement." You whisper, taking the hand Bucky had placed (respectfully) on your hip and moving it around to your back, letting it rest at the base of your spine, just where your ass begins to curve.
One long exhale later, and Bucky finds his nerve.Â
His hand splays out over your skin, daring to take up the space there. With one quick pull he brings your chest flush to his, nearly throwing your balance as he does so.Â
You beam, smile widening with approval.Â
"Nice." Sam chides in his ear, equal parts proud and disgusted.Â
You squeeze Bucky's shoulder. "Il vient par ici."
"He's headed toward you." Sam translates.Â
You bring your hand around from the back of Bucky's neck, sliding it down over his collarbone until your palm rests flat on his sternum. "Laissez- parler."
"Let her do the talking." Sam tells him. Through a window a light catches Bucky's eye, a red scope trained in his direction. Sam's careful aim sitting on his shoulders like armor.Â
"My pleasure." Bucky agrees.Â
With his hand still on your back, the skin below his ear buzzing from where your lips had brushed, Bucky thinks he means it more than either you are Sam truly understand.
Bucky's began to wonder if S.H.I.E.L.D. asked you to stay on to test him.
Or more specifically, test his sanity.Â
With the arrest made, a power vacuum big enough to swallow Wilson Fisk opened up. Wannabe kingpins popping up every three blocks with the potential to wreak more havoc than they have any right to.Â
And with the dissemination of your Target's organization, most of them happen to be French.Â
They need you, S.H.I.E.L.D. of course. Not Bucky, no Bucky just likes your company.Â
If he can even call it that.Â
What do you call it when you spend all day with someone and then also spend all of your free time with them and spend all the time you're not together replaying their words in your head?Â
Sam calls it a crush, Bucky staunchly disagrees.Â
What do you call it when you can't understand a word the other person says?
Sam calls it a Love Actually. Bucky doesn't know what the fuck that means.
You laughed when he told you about it though, loud and obnoxious. Hard enough for your head to tilt back and expose the thin skin of your neck. The line where muscle meets collarbone and the kissable swell of your clavicle.Â
Bucky doesn't look up it, afraid of what he'll find.Â
Instead he asks you to teach some more French.Â
Je m'appelle Bucky. My name is Bucky.Â
Explained to him with a smile as you finally slipped him your own.
Pour qui travaillez-vous? Who do you work for?
Your voice guiding him through the pronunciation as you and Sam prepared him for a few simple phrases he might hear.Â
Qu'est-ce que tu fous? What the fuck are you doing?
Rasped though the static of a com as you watch him through a security cam in a van about two hundred feet away. A huff of frustration and Bucky is sure a matching furrow in your brow.
That one is probably his favorite.Â
Qu'est-ce que tu fous? When you catch him eating from one of those shitty breakfast trucks parked outside.Â
Qu'est-ce que tu fous? When he takes you out for sushi (a nice place Sam recommended, emphasizing its romantic atmosphere despite Bucky's protests), this time gasped in mock horror as he picked up a fork.Â
He'd stared back confused, already half-offended before he realized what you were talking about.Â
You waved the chopsticks sitting between your fingers at him, clicking their ends together once as if to punctuate the sentence.Â
Bucky had fumbled, ripping open the paper that held his pair and holding them uselessly in either hand.Â
"I'm not exactly sure how to-"Â
You'd already reached across the table before he could finish, grasping his hand and articulating it with your fingers. You pulled and flexed until satisfied and then slid the chopsticks into place.Â
"Mieux." You'd said with a satisfied nod
Bucky had to ignore the way he stirred in his boxers under the drip of your praise.
At least he's pretty sure that's what it was.Â
Qu'est-ce que tu fous? Shouted over a loud bass and shitty DJ. Bucky learns that in the heart of Brooklyn, people do still dance. It just looks little different now.Â
And it hurts his ears.
Stiff as board, he watches you from just a few feet away. A tight dress, strappy heels, the lace of your bra just beginning to tease itself over the neckline-
What the fuck are you doing? He curses to himself, blinking hard as if it could change the way his body is already reacting.Â
You're dancing, hips swaying in time with the music while your face sits in a scowl. Lips pressed into a line as you stare him down with what he thinks is French for contempt.Â
"She wants to go to an American Club," Sam had told him. "A bunch of us are gonna go, y'know make a night of it."
Bucky hadn't been easily convinced.
He'd laughed, full chested and slightly terrified. "Hard pass."
Sam knocked his shoulder, hard enough to yank Bucky straight out of his cowardice.Â
"Don't be an idiot." He'd chided.Â
"I'm not it's just not my scene." Bucky tried to reason. "You honestly think she'd want me there? What so I can stand there awkwardly all night and pretend to get buzzed?"Â
Sam's groan bounced off the walls around them, "You're shitting me right?"Â
Bucky shrugged.Â
"You've been making fuck-me eyes at each other for the past month." Sam deadpanned.Â
The denial was second nature, the only thing that made sense. "She doesn't feel that way-"Â
"Do you speak French?" Sam interrupted.Â
"No."Â
"Okay then shut up and listen to someone who does." Sam said.
Bucky's protest died on his tongue.Â
"Just fucking go tonight okay? I'll play translator and then if you don't believe me after that you really are fucking hopeless."
So Bucky Barnes, despite being just about seventy years too old, went to the club.Â
He wore those cargoes that make the lady at his Chinese place stare at his thighs. A black t-shirt that is probably a little too small but his other one was dirty and he didn't have time to wash it. Topping it off with a leather jacket and a scoff at himself in the mirror.Â
"Qu'est-ce que tu fous?" He whispered to himself, already picturing ten different versions of your disgust.Â
Sam had already been knee deep in conversation with you when Bucky finally got there.Â
Vowels flying left and right, wild gesticulations that made Bucky fear for the safety of your drinks next to you.Â
He had to ignore the way his heart jumped when you spotted him. Forced himself to brush off the way you immediately stopped talking to Sam.Â
"Bucky! Tu es venu!"Â You crooned in his ear, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you took a hug. A month later and the way you say his name is still enough to send a shiver up Bucky's spine.
You'd already had a drink, probably two if the looseness of your shoulders is anything to go by.Â
When you pulled back it was to give him an appeasing look, eyes traveling over him with slow deliberation. When you finally met his eyes again, your finished with a slight cock of your head. Then you nodded, as if he'd answered a question you silently asked.Â
"Vous ĂŞtes Ă croquer, Sergeant." You finally spoke, ending the sentence with one last hum and a pat on his shoulder.Â
Then you were gone, pulled away by another agent and into the dance floor, leaving him alone with Sam at the bar.Â
Minutes passed, long stretches of silence with nothing but the chaos of the music and the crowd around them. The shouts of drunk partiers ordering more drinks, the clamor of girls at the DJ booth.Â
"You look good enough to eat."Â
Sam finally broke the silence, taking a long swill of his drink before looking at Bucky for his reaction.Â
"That's what she said." He explained, nodding in your direction. "She also spent our entire conversation staring at the door waiting for you."
Bucky's pulse stuttered, then began pounding a new rhythm. Something between surprised and utterly terrified.Â
His face burned, like when you sit too close to a campfire. Bright hot and impossible to ignore. Across the club you glowed with your own light. A flame burning so bright you hurt his eyes, flickering with motions so fluid he has no choice but to keep staring anyway.Â
You caught his stare, lips setting into a frown as his favorite words rolled off your tongue one more time. "Qu'est-ce que tu fous?"
Finally, Bucky thinks he knows how you want him to answer.Â
The look, the contempt. It's something else entirely. It's half-lidded and frustrated and utterly sick of waiting. You're not disgusted, you're wanting.Â
Shit, Bucky realizes, What the fuck have I been doing?
His jacket is shrugged off before he can think better of it, too busy holding eye contact to make sure he actually passed it Sam's direction.
"Hold this." He says, reaching over to steal the last few sips from his friend's drink.Â
Your frown turns back up, lips quirking with mischief. The same hint of trouble he saw that very first night.Â
As if you know, you lift on hand, using it to crawl your finger in a slow 'come hither' movement. Then you turned, breaking the spell and leaving Bucky to stare at your back as you fell back into the music.Â
"Don't think I need to translate that one." Sam cracks, letting out a low whistle as your hips began to sway even harder than before.Â
"No." Bucky grunts, "You don't."Â
By the time Bucky makes it to you, he already knows he won't last long.Â
He comes up from behind, and the smile you throw him over your shoulder nails his coffin.
It's three songs, maybe four.Â
Three songs of your body pressed so tight to his Bucky's not sure where you end and he begins.
Three songs of the curve of your ass rolling against his cargoes until he's fighting at his zipper.Â
Three songs of your arm stretched above your head, hand curled around the back of Bucky's neck.Â
Three songs of your lips brushing over his skin. The seam of his jaw, the hollow of his collar bone, just over the thump of his jugular.Â
Three songs of Bucky realizing he's been paying too much attention to talk.
You say plenty without ever even opening your mouth.Â
His hand closes over your hip and your body answers with a sway, your weight leaning back into his chest.Â
He finds the courage to bring his other hand to your front, splaying it protectively over your stomach. You return it in ten fold, pushing onto your toes and leaning your head onto his shoulder.Â
He can't hear the noise you make but he feels it vibrate through your chest, a low rumble echoing through every part of you he can feel.Â
For the first time Bucky's able to hear what you've been trying to tell him. Finally, it's a language he can speak.Â
Mercifully, he's fluent.Â
His hands spin you around slow, pulling until you're face to face. The lean down is just as tortuous, bending until you're all but nose to nose.Â
The noise of the club around you acts like a curtain, drawing closed around your bodies until he forgets anyone is there at all.Â
Your eyes dance from his own down to his lips, lashes fluttering with the movement and dusting your cheeks. There's glitter on your nose, Bucky's torn between wanting to know where you got it, and licking it off.Â
He definitely wants to find out if there's more.
"Vas-tu enfin m'embrasser?" It can't be louder than a whisper, Bucky's ears so finely attuned to your voice he's sure he could pick it out of any room.Â
He feels his cock throb, responding to your words despite not even knowing what they mean. You could have been reciting the the Itsy Bitsy Spider and Bucky wouldn't have cared.Â
It was never about what you said, or what language you spoke it in, it was always about how you said it. Bucky answers with the only thing he can make sense of.Â
"I don't know what that means but it turns me on."Â
Your hand snakes a path down Bucky's chest, sliding between the space where your bodies are pressed together so you can palm his bulge.Â
"Ăa se voit." You purr, thumb pressing into his zipper.Â
Bucky's dick jumps under your touch, all his want pooling under your hand.Â
"That's not fair." He groans, his grip tightening on your hips, enough to make the fabric of your dress bunch between his fingers. "All my cards are on the table."
You pull back, pushing up onto your toes again as you stretch towards him. "Je vous dirai tout ce que vous voulez savoir. Il suffit de demander."
"Okay it's even less fair when you do that." He crumbles, meeting you halfway and pressing his forehead into yours. "I'm already caught you can stop with the siren song."Â
You laugh, low and soft and mercifully real. "Demande , Bucky."
He doesn't find the words he was looking for, no grand speech or sweeping music. Just the weight of his better judgment finally giving out on itself.Â
His lips find yours with a sigh of relief, the tension between you finally releasing with a palpable burst.Â
Your soft against him, nose turning ever so slightly to slot against his.Â
It's gentle at first, soft, exploratory. A test of pressure, the shock of feeling you so close against him.
Then it turns, pressure grows, each of you pushing harder into the other. Hands take on lives of their own, grabbing at any inch of exposed skin they can find. Yours are everywhere, his neck, his arms, his jaw and at the sliver of skin at his waist. You leave fire burning in your wake, mouth slanted against him as you swallow every sound that escapes.Â
Maybe you weren't joking about eating him.
The tension that existed before comes back tenfold, growing into something malicious and untenable. It burns even brighter now, like the first puff a cigarette. His body is already craving more and you're still on his lips.
When the need for air finally wins out, your bodies are so entangled Bucky is sure half of the dance floor is giving you a dirty look.Â
Bucky can't hear your breathing but he can feel it, the rapid rise and fall of your chest against his. The way your lips are parted, the skin around them irritated from his scruff. It strike a white hot pulse of possession.Â
You look wrecked and Bucky can't get enough of the fact that he's the one who did it.Â
When you speak it's at the same time, two gravely voices begging the same question.Â
"Ramène- à ta maison?"
"Can I take you home?"
Both of you are answered with another kiss.
Bucky - woefully unprepared Bucky, takes you back to his apartment. He guides the most ethereal woman he's ever met up two flights of stairs and into his shoebox.Â
Okay, it's little bigger than a shoebox but not by much.Â
He does his best to steer you through the living room, kissing you earnest as he walks you back toward his bedroom. In part just to kiss you, but also to keep you from seeing the makeshift bed on the floor by the couch.Â
You either don't notice his tactics or don't care. By the time you make it to his room you've stopped walking altogether. No, instead your legs are wrapped around his waist, having jumped up somewhere between the kitchen and bathroom. Just threw your weight at him between kisses and trusted him to catch you.
It makes his head feel warm to think about.Â
The bed is softer than he remembers, his hands sinking into the plush mattress as he lays you down on it.Â
He waits until your back is flat, then leans onto his haunches. His chest pulls tight at the distance, like an invisible is string gone taut between you. His jacket comes off in rushes drags of sleeves down his arms, one side even catching on his wrist in the hurry. He doesn't even remember putting it back on, doesn't remember much about leaving the club except the way you were tucked into his side with a hand in his back pocket.Â
The jacket lands somewhere behind him with a thud, the sound marrying beautifully with your giggle.Â
Bucky has to take a moment just to look at you.Â
You perched on your elbows and staring up at him with nothing but excitement. Youwith your dress bunched up around the tops of your thighs, bare skin catching in the dim light of his lamp. You with a pretty smile on your lips, any lipstick that you had started the night with long gone.
He wonders if it's rouge on your cheeks or if you just glow like that all by yourself.
For a second, he's out of his body. Who is he to have this? The soft bed beneath his knees is unfamiliar, the trust you offer yourself up with even more so.Â
It must show on his face.Â
"Bucky?" You whisper, humming as you bring his attention back to you. "Ăa va?"
He nods, only half sure he understood the question. "I'm okay." He promises, "Just making sure you're real."
You melt, slight enough that only someone as well attuned as him would notice. Shoulders curling inward, lips twitching at the corners, the brief break in your eye contact.Â
Slowly, you lower yourself flat once more, this time grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him with you.Â
Your hands grab the hem of shirt, reclaiming the skin you had teased on the dance floor. This time you don't stop at a sliver, pulling it up over his head until it lands somewhere by his jacket.Â
A low breath blows from between your teeth, borderline a whistle. "Es tu?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow as you flatten your palm over his abdomen.Â
Bucky can't be bothered to decipher that one, instead he decides he's much more bothered by the fact that you are still wearing so much clothes.Â
Okay the dress really isn't much in the way of fabric but his point stands. It's between him and your skin and that's crime enough.
Your zipper slips between his fingers twice, the delicate metal pull taunting him as he tries to grasp it. That's when he gives up.Â
The zipper pulls apart with just a little pressure, coming undone in a cascade of popping teeth. From the top of the dress to the end of the zipper at the base of your spine, it's rendered useless in seconds.
Bucky waits to be scolded, a hand slap or sharp glare.Â
When he finally looks back up at you all he sees is want, pupils blown wide with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.Â
Bucky's hands freeze where they had been pulling the dress down, fabric bunched in his hands like a brute.Â
Then you nod.Â
It rips like paper, tearing along the seam that had run up your hip and all the way to the base of the zipper.Â
He throws it so hard it hits the wall.Â
You're even worse bare, the sight of you in nothing but a bra and panties enough to turn what's left of Bucky's mind to mush.Â
It's his turn to be greedy. He copies the path you took, from sternum to ribs to belly button. Only he paints it with his mouth instead.Â
A kiss over your collarbone, then just over your heart. Then one is pressed in the valley between your breasts, another further down at the base of your ribs. Until finally he laves one more just above the waist band of your underwear, low enough for the elastic to tickle his chin.Â
Your breath catches, a sharp gasp that catches just as he makes contact. Like he's caught you off guard, something he didn't even know was possible.Â
It would make even the worst cowards brave.Â
Bucky tucks a finger into the elastic on either of your hips, pausing just long enough for you to know his intentions.Â
Without missing a beat you raise them, lifting off the bed by just as inch and giving Bucky the only signal he needed.Â
They don't even get pulled all the way off, abandoned somewhere around your ankles and left for you to kick away as Bucky gives all his attention to the sight in front of him.
The low lights cast a shadow across your body, draping you in gentle curves and sharp contrasts. It settles over your skin until you look like a painting, and your cunt is no exception.Â
There at the apex of your thighs, Bucky's is pretty sure sits the holy grail.Â
He moves slow, like a predator stalking its prey. He makes a home for himself between your thighs, pushing your knees apart to make room as he lays down between them.Â
Your words from earlier play back in his mind, the translation Sam had fed him.
"Vous ĂŞtes Ă croquer" He whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. He probably butchered the pronunciation, dragged the vowel too hard or exaggerate a letter that doesn't belong but you don't seem to care. "Means you look good enough to eat."
As if forgetting him, your legs immediately try to close, a little whimper bubbling from the back of your throat as you're blocked by his hands.Â
Bucky clicks his tongue, using the movement to shift your position. The legs that had been on either side of him are lifted onto his shoulders, rendering you completely vulnerable to hid intentions.
"Sil te plaĂŽt."Â You whine, hips jerking up toward him. Your breathing turned erratic, sharp inhales and cut-off exhales as you wait for him to finally do something.
Bucky doesn't pretend to hide just how much he likes it.Â
His fingers find you first, wet heat that catches on his skin. You feel like fire, tantalizing and hypnotic. His index and pointed drag through your folds, parting them to give him a better view of your ruin.Â
He repeats the motion a few times, gathering slick around his digits and watching your reaction with every pass.Â
The tensing of your thighs when he just misses your entrance, the way your chest stills when he passes over the hood of your clit.Â
Your body is a language he's desperate to be fluent in.Â
The taste of you melts on his tongue, potent and sweet. Better than anything he's had the privilege to swallow in years.Â
One lick, then a second slower one. The full width of his tongue pressing flat against your clit. Then he can't bear another second, closing his lips around the bud in a sloppy wet kiss.Â
Your hands fly to his hair, followed by a jagged moan that sounds more like it was torn from your body than given willingly.Â
"Bucky-" you gasp, fingers pulling on brown locks, "Fuck!"Â
Your slip up is missed completely, half covered by your thighs over his ears and half drowned out by the his own satisfied groan.Â
His mind is blissfully blank, for the first time in a long time he's not thinking about anything other than the task at hand.Â
Your pleasure isn't even a direct motivator, well it is, but Bucky's driven by his own just as much. The way you feel in his mouth, the vibrations of your moans and the how your entire body jolts when he finally slides two fingers inside of you.Â
It's relief, finally understanding that as much as he wants you, you want him. It only fuels him further, his nose pushing against your clit, fingers working along side his tongue inside you. Curling at different angles until he hears that scream again-
"Bucky!"
You're wet everywhere, the insides of your thighs and down his chin. Some sick part of him wishes he could bottle it, where the most natural part of you as a cologne.
His own hips grind into the mattress, more instinct than intention. He's harder than he's been in seventy fucking years and you don't even speak the same language.
Your legs go rigid around his head, tightening as your orgasm starts to build.
Bucky's making sure you get there, pressing his fingers into that spot inside you until he's all but giving it a massage. Your walls pulling tight around him, pulsing in time with your rapid heart.Â
His lips close around your clit one more time, tonguing it with gentle pressure. He can't help but hum, he's damn near choking on you and would die happily if it was between your legs.Â
Then it all bursts.Â
His nightmare, his French muse, his siren, his Venus cums hard on his tongue.Â
Bucky swears he can taste a whole language, the sweetest elixir God could have ever made and he's drinking it from the source.Â
You're one fire above him, broken curses and whimpered babbles of his name.Â
As it retreats, your grip finally loosening, Bucky crawls back over you. Not stopping until he's above your face, watching it contort in the come down.Â
You're still speaking, the sound of it finally coming back into focus.Â
"So good," you gasp, "So fucking good Bucky don't stop-"
Everything goes still. An entire orbit freezing in place.Â
He can see it in your eyes, something hazy and romantic as you finally lock in on him. Your hands cup his face, oblivious to the fact that you've given it away.Â
"You speak fucking English?" It comes out harsher than Bucky means for it to. "This whole time you spoke-"
You groan, pulling his lips back to yours.Â
Despite it all, Bucky goes willingly. He kisses you and instead of betrayal he tastes something sweeter.
"Was gonna tell you." You whisper, "But wasn't this more fun?"Â
When he pulls back that look is there again, the mischief he saw that first night.Â
He kisses you again, even harder this time.Â
Yeah, he thinks, it was.
Collab Masterlist (If you're interested in Bumpin' that)
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
word count: 14k
warning: buckyâs an asshole | mention of hydra and buckyâs past | angst | bucky lover boy | allusion to death | violence | smut | PinV | oral sex ( both receiving) | teasing | happy ending
summary: based on this request.
a/n: long ass request needs and requires long ass fic! I was writing and slightly changed a couple of things but the story is pretty much all of what the person required. I really hope this is what you were looking for and hope you liked it just as much I loved writing this story.
âItâs may be hard clicking with the others,â Valentina told you. âBut Iâm sure youâll be fine.â
âIâm so excited. Iâve always admired the Avengers. What Tony Stark did to save the world was sad butâŚâ
âNecessary.â Valentina finished the phrase.
So thatâs when you, Y/N Y/L/N, made the official appearance in the new Avengersâ Tower.
âHey,â a blond girl told you, moving toward you. âMust be Y/N.â She stretched her arm. âYelena. Yelena Belova.â
âNatâs sister⌠nice to meet you.â
Yelena proceeded to present the other members of the team. Once she finished, after Bob already declared himself as your best friend gaining a fake offence from Yelena, the elevator opened.
Bucky Barnes appeared.
Tactical gear still on, gun on his belt and a shiny arm. A tired look on his face and bags under his blue eyes.
âSamâs and ass he took credit for itâŚâ he said without anger, just mocking Sam. âLeft him at his house after hearing him talking⌠who are you?â He asked you, stopping his monologue about Sam.
âHi,â you immediately stretched your arm. âIâm Y/N⌠from ShieldâŚâ you said, retiring your hand once you understood he wasnât going to shake it.
âDonât need another member.â
âItâs not our choice Barnes,â John intervened. âAnd she seems amazing by the way.â
You nodded toward the tall man, silently thanking him.
Bucky grunted and without stepping outside of the elevator, he pushed the button to his floor and the door closed.
âIs he always like that?â You asked.
âSometimesâŚâ Ava replied.
âBut heâs okay⌠I mean heâs with usâŚâ Bob shyly said. âYouâll be under our wing, donât worry.â
As the weeks passed, Bucky didnât seem to move from his idea.
It was now almost a month since your arrival. The team quickly discovered why Valentina chose to add you to them. During a particularly thought mission, they found out your ability.
You moved like a shadow, anticipating every enemyâs moves. Swinging on the field, covering Yelena and then starting a fight just as Ava could disappear without being noticed.
As Yelena was standing in front of an agent, another one was getting ready to take her from behind. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed it and stretched your arm. A white light came out of your palm and it was like the world around you all stopped suddenly. A cone of ice erupted from the dry ground killing the agent behind Yelena, stabbing him. As the other agent lost track for a second, Yelena was able to shoot him in his chest. He felt down right in front of her. Faking unimpressive, Yelena simply nodded at you.
There was no time for explanation.
âGod youâre amazing,â John told you, hitting an agent with his elbow. He was truly impressed by your ability, just as Ava.
âThanks John⌠youâre-â
âCan we stop talking?â Bucky growled. His voice, deep and cold, interrupted you. It was like he didnât see the massive ice cone coming out of the ground, or if he did see it, he was totally unbiased by the situation.
You look down for a second.
âSorry man.â John said, before knocking out for the good the agent.
In and out, no witnesses left and mission accomplished.
On the jet, everyone asked you to explain.
Everyone but Bucky.
At the tower you all entered in the common room where Bob, still recovering from his transformation in Sentry, was waiting.
âBob,â Yelena yelled happily. âYou should have seen her.â She jumped on the couch, messing his hair. âSheâs magicâŚI mean really magicâŚâ Yelena had stars in her eyes, which was totally out of her character. âSheâs magic practically save us.â
âShe didnât save us,â Bucky said. âWe save ourselves.â
âShut up, Barnes.â Ava told him. âIf she hadnât made that ice cone appear Yelena wouldnât have killed that agent and we would have wasted time unnecessarily⌠she practically save us.â She hugged your side.
âIce cone?â Bob asked astonished. âYou made an ice cone from⌠AN ICE CONE?â Bobâs voice peaked up.
You explained to them how you got your powers.
âYes, I have some powers,â you said, looking down.
Bucky, sat on a stool having a coffee, rising his head slightly. He was listening.
âI⌠was born like that and I was always been told my powers are white because itâs linked with who I am,â you began kneading your fingers. âI can control ice⌠as you all saw,â
âHell yeah we saw it,â John happily announced.
âYeah⌠and I can heal from injury or even worse if thatâs the case⌠without being hurt myself.â
You noticed Buckyâs eyebrow rose a little.
âWhat else can you do?â Bob asked you interested.
âI can bring back someoneâs life⌠never done it but I canâŚâ
Everyone around you cheered and laughed at the revelation.
Bucky remained silent for a moment, drinking his black coffee. âNo one is born like that.â
And with that, he finished his coffee and left the room.
A wave of sadness rose into your body. Your eyes lowered on the floor.
You didnât know why Bucky treated you like that, since you were always so kind with him like you did with everyone else.
Like for example, a couple of days before when you made a fresh batch of coffee.
You were already awake as you suffered from insomnia. You took all the five cups out of the cabinet, since you already drank you coffee.
Yelena had a yellow one with the bees.
Ava chose a blue one with a unicorn.
Bob had a vintage one from a flee market.
John chose to keep his white one from his time in the military.
Bucky of course had a black one, no illustrations and nothing written on it. Black and simple, kinda like him.
Coffee and milk for Yelena and Ava, way more milk and cream for Bob and a black coffee with three sugars for John like you. At the end, a black and steaming cup for Bucky. No sugar and no milk.
Everyone arrived and picked up their cup. Bob even licked his lips as the warm milky foam remained on his mouth. âBetter than the cafe around the corner.â
You smiled warmly.
Yelena, Ava and John did thank you even before picking their cups.
As Bucky entered the kitchen, the voices got lower. Black shirt and shorts, sneakers already on. âMorning,â he said to all.
You hoped it was to you too. âMorning Bucky. Made you the coffeeâŚâ you said pointing at his cup.
âGoing for a run. Walker would you like to join?â He asked completely ignoring you, opening the fridge.
âNot today.â He said taking Buckyâs cup. âPerfect.â He smiled, after taking a sip.
As Bucky got out of the kitchen, John made a weird face. âHow is he even like this thing?â
âWhy did you drink it?â You asked him.
âWasnât let him ruin the day⌠but now I really need sugar.â
âHere,â you handed him his cup. âMade you already. Itâs gonna be a little cold.â
âNo problem.â He said, kissing your head.
As the days passed, you saw at John as a big brother and that care made you smile.
âBarnes is⌠tough.â Ava began. âHe needs time.â
âSeems like he hates me,â you stood, emptying your cup. âIâm gonna go to the gym. Call me if you need.â
In the gym, thankfully alone, you punched the bag attached to the ceiling. Every fist controlled and powerful. You took some second in between session to regain your breath.
You moved onto the treadmill, setting the maximum pace.
Running always made you feel better.
You were so caught up with your pace, that you didnât notice someone on the threshold of the entrance.
Bucky stood there, sweaty after his run. He always used the gym to decompress after his exercise. He looked at you, still holding his breath as you could hear it above the music you had in your ears. He looked again and left, forcing himself to break his routine.
The routine was everything to Bucky and even a simple difference made him feel bad. After being taken out of HYDRA, rescued and loved in a way by the Avengers and now the Thunderbolts, he thought about having his life settled.
Your arrival made everything different.
You were always so bright and kind and loving even toward him. You made lunch and dinner for everybody. You prepare a new batch of coffee at morning and now you were occupying the gym.
Bucky knew you didnât do anything wrong but still, he didnât want to be engaged with you. Someone could say he wasnât interested in getting to know you because he knew deep down, or so that was what he was thinking, that you hid something. In his mind, no one could be this kind without the urge to make amend for something. He knew it pretty well. He decided to keep an eye on you, afar but still on you constantly.
During missions, you noticed how he was slightly nearer you. In the field, his eyes always seemed to be moving toward your figure.
Meal time was the time he would spend more time listening and watching you.
You were always happy and bright. Always ready to clean up the table and make a coffee ending the meal.
It happened sometimes, that he didnât see you leaving the room. They were the days when you felt the more nostalgia. You missed your family, especially your father.
Your parents raised you in an happy and loving family. You grew up with a step brother slightly older than you, and a little sister who looked at you like you hung up the moon.
You remained linked to your family no matter what.
Your family retired in some little town in the mountains. They were happy for you, for this new adventure with the New Avengers. They always saw something special about you, not only because you were their daughter.
When you chose the Shield, they fully supported you and when you broke down the news of joining the former Thunderbolts team, your father almost cried.
âWe always knew you had something in special despite the circumstances.â
You hugged them tightly, then your brother and sister, before leaving for New York.
It was now six month since your arrival, when Valentina entered the common room. âBarnes and Y/L/N,â Valentina spoke. âCome here.â
You were on the couch with the others, while Bucky was in the kitchen. Once you were all there, Valentina spoke again. âSo,â she clapped her hands. âWe need two agents for an undercover operation. Two months.â
Everyone looked at each other knowing already what she was going to say.
âBarnes and Y/L/N,â she said smiling. âCongratulation on your wedding. Leaving in three days. Youâre gonna have all the details from Mel.â
âNot so fast, soldier. You donât have a choice.â
You remained frozen on the couch.
âBarnes,â Valentina moved toward Bucky. He towered over her, but she wasnât scared at all. âI fear,â she rested his hand on his flesh arm. âThat youâre in the idea of⌠how can I say? Oh yeah⌠making decisions.â She smiled softly. âWe need two agents. They have to be married and happy andâŚâ
âIn love?â Mel suggested, already regretting once Bucky looked at her.
âRight⌠in love. Can you fake it?â
She opened her arms, waiting for an answer.
Bucky, cornered, nodded his head.
âWonderful,â she looked at you. âAnd you sweet Y/N? Can you be in love with this guy for a couple of months?â
âIâll try.â You looked down, not being able to look at Buckyâs face.
âAmazing,â she turned to Mel. âSo, informed them. Iâll be in the office all day.â
Once she got out, Mel gave Bucky and Y/N two folder.
âYouâre gonna be Andrew and Jane and you got married a couple of years ago. This,â she handed you another folder, toward both of you stretched your arm softly touching your fingers. âIs gonna be your apartment. Itâs right above the night club you need to take down.â
âWait,â Bucky exclaimed. âYou want us to be undercover for two months to take down a night club? Am I a bodyguard now?â
âMr. Barnes-â
âBucky, please.â
âBucky⌠this is not a standard night club. We⌠think there is some sort of despatch for some new drugs andâŚâ
Mel stopped talking.
âAnd?â Bucky said, beginning to be impatient.
âWe found out some trace of a serum in some pillsâŚâ
She didnât need to specify what type of serum, Bucky already understood. You didnât tell anyone about your past, about your powers. You only told them what you wanted. You realised it was a bold choice but you thought about the implications and you werenât willing to let them misjudged you. As Mel left, you were still shocked about the new mission.
Two whole months pretending to love Bucky Barnes.
Truth to be told, you didnât need to pretend.
You couldnât get why you felt what you felt for him. He was rude and even slightly aggressive to you, but you knew what he could have passed during his past. Maybe in that tower you were the only one who could understand him completely.
Your father, a glorious member of the military, was kidnapped by HYDRA. The same HYDRA that used to imprisoned Bucky making him known as the Winter Soldier to the world.
They used to keep their scientifically experiments on going, trying to make every time a newer version of the serum. Making it stronger and more powerful.
Your father, unfortunately, was the perfect example of experiment for them. He was single at the time, not that it would have changed something for them, perfect shape and strong built. Bucky was already the Winter Soldier at the time, but they wanted to use more men to their purposes.
He still didnât know how and what went wrong.
As the serum run into his veins, he didnât show the usual effects. He wasnât any faster or stronger or even angrier. This alone made them disappointed, as they failed the experiment. Once they found out their mistake or their negligence, they hit and punched all over your father in one of their cells.
Broken ankles, ribs incapable of hold up a man like him and a fragile mind due to the constantly experiment.
Thatâs how your soon to be mother, found him.
She was working in a hospital when, during a night storm, HYDRA abandoned your father. He was leaning on a concrete bench on the ground, bleeding and unable to move or stand. She took care of him, as her job demanded but as the time passed, she felt in love with him just as he did with her.
He told her everything about him once they began dating, knowing she was pretty young and willing to have a family. He explained how he would have been probably the worst husband, as he wasnât able to gave her the family she wanted, but she didnât hesitate. She loved that man and she already chose him as her lover.
Years passed, they got married and one day she came running with a stick in her hand. âIâm pregnant!â
He picked her up and hugged her so tight. âOh god, the baby⌠Iâm sorryâŚâ he said, kneeling on the ground.
âDonât worry my love,â she said, caressing his hair. âItâs too soon to worry.â
After nine months of nausea, a beautiful girl was born.
She had her features but his eyes. She was the most gorgeous baby in the world for them.
As she grew, around three months after being born, they began to notice some particular abilities.
Her hands were always cold, no matter what temperature was in the house. Once she was able to crawl on her own, your mom noticed how your little hands always left a trace of cold water behind you. It wasnât just the water that made them worried, it was also how you quickly moved on the floor or the beautiful but quite intimidating look in your eyes.
One day, they had their confirmation.
Your mom was on the rung ladder, trying to take down a box. She misjudged the distance and misplaced her foot. She felt or that whatâs she was thinking.
In that moment, your father was coming back from the grocery store. Hands full of bags and mouth wide opened. âMy love-â He didnât complete the sentence.
Your mom was floating in the air, the box ahead of her floating too.
On the ground, a little smiley baby clapping her hands.
Your mom regained the balance just as your father use his shoulder to let her sit, after letting the groceries falling down. They moved the box on the ground, crushing it noisily making you cry a little.
Feet on the floor, your mom run to you. âNo, sweetie⌠donât cry. Itâs all good.â She tickled your stomach and you began to laugh again.
They looked at each other in the eyes, knowing this wasnât a typical case of medical issues.
Luckily, your mom knew someone.
It was one of the older nurses, she escaped HYDRA too. She was also the one who listened to her, truly listened to her, when she told her the story of the gorgeous man bleeding on the bench in front of the hospital.
She took a look at you, while you were playing with your hand. âSheâs perfectly fine but,â she took off her glasses.
âBut?â Your dad asked her worried.
âShe might have some special⌠ability⌠letâs say.â
âAre you implying my daughter is a super soldier?â
âNot necessarily,â she pondered how to broke the news. âThe serum they used on you might have skipped your system but settled into her blood.â
Your father broke down crying. Your mom sat keeping you into her arms.
The journey back home wasnât pleasant, but they kept the volume down to not let you get scarred.
âItâs not your fault,â your mom told him. âI already explained to you. Itâs their fault, not yours.â
âFeels like itâs mineâŚâ he said, keeping his hands on the steering wheel.
âWell, itâs not⌠so stop this.â She whispered smiling.
They made you live a perfectly normal life, without the pressure of the power in you. They noticed tho, how you were able to pick a dead flower on the ground and make it alive again.
In the summer, when the heat was impossible to avoid, they kept playing with your hand. It was either for some coldness but also to see how you would react to a constantly touch.
Once you turned 18, they explained all.
You took the news very well. It was in your character. Always kind and understanding. Your father kept asking you sorry, you hugged him tighter every time.
In about three days, you would be Buckyâs fake wife.
He spent the firsts two days in his room, isolating himself from the approaching mission. He had breakfast at four in the morning, lunch in the early afternoon and dinner late at night. He did all of that just to avoid you, and you noticed.
Of course you noticed.
You didnât think about being Buckyâs best friend of course, but you didnât mind spending time with him too. You couldnât deny that seeing him the first time, made your heart racing. He was gorgeous and massive and his voice, the few times you clearly heard him, sounded like a melody. You tried, as the days passed to get to know him.
Handing him the coffee in the morning was the first step but he didnât accept it. Making a meal for everyone didnât do the job either.
You respected his silence, even tho you two would have to have a conversation sooner or later about the mission. You spent three time reading alone the folders Mel gave you. You read about the apparently ceremony on a beach in Greece you two had. You could almost picture it.
Your white and soft dress, moved by the light see breeze. Bucky with a dark blue suit, no tie and a couple of buttons opened. Smiles and laughs and a lot of friends cheering for you.
A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts.
âComing,â you said in the air, thinking it was Bob or Yelena. âMiss me so much-â
Bucky was behind that door, waiting in the corridor like a statue. âLetâs get this done,â
You moved and let him inside.
He noticed the folder opened on the bed, just as you noticed his folder crushed by his hand. âSo tomorrow we prepare the essentials,â he said sitting on the edge of the desk, which creaked under his weight. âValentina provides for everything. Itâs gonna be all already in the apartment.â He said that methodically and practically.
âShouldnât we talked about⌠us?â He perked his eyebrow. âWell not us but⌠yeah us.â
âThereâs no us, Y/N.â
âOf course,â you coughed a little. âThe us for those two months.â
âAgain, thereâs no us. We need to be a little affectionate for the people outside. Once weâre alone, weâre strangers again.â
Strangers.
So thatâs why you were for him. Someone came in his little world disrupting it.
âGotcha⌠strangers.â You said, keeping your smiling on your face.
He left your room after a few more indications.
Door closed, your eyes began to sting.
The third day, Bucky kept himself again isolated in his room.
You packed your essentials, some make up and jewellery and removed your fatherâs necklace. You kept it hidden above your shirt, no one saw it. Around eight in the evening, the jet was ready to leave.
Bucky shook Johnâs hand, quickly and politely and wave to Bob, Ava and Yelena.
You, always you, hugged each of them with a bright smile on your face.
âDonât let him ruin the mission,â Yelena whispered.
You heard about super soldiers and their earring, your father had super hearing, so you knew Bucky heard it.
You didnât know if you heard him huffing or it was a sick joke of your mind.
Valentina waited for you. She glanced at Bucky, smiling at him. You saw his corner lightly rising as the gentleman he was.
She moved in front of you. âYour first undercover mission for us. Itâs gonna be amazing Iâm sure of it.â She caressed your arms. âI put the dress for a party in the closet. Itâs a fancy one so be impeccable.â
âWhy the boss of a night club should have a fancy party?â Bucky asked.
âBecause Barnes,â Valentina moved closed to him. âHe needs funds and black tieâs party are the most effective way to do it.â
You both got on the jet as the door closed. Sitting in front of each other, the mission began.
âTheyâre gonna be together you know?â Valentina said.
âTwenty bucks Barnesâs gonna be the first crumbling.â Yelena proposed.
They all laughed and agreed before entering the tower.
On the jet, the silence made it clear that you were not going to be able to hear anything other that the engines. You glanced at him once, keep reading the folder. Bucky loaded and unloaded his gun at least three times. He glanced at you too.
âSo Andrew?â You asked Bucky, reading the folder.
âYes, Jane.â He replied without looking at you.
Could that be the first sign of truce? Maybe.
Bucky spent the flight sleeping, or at least faking the sleep. He had his mind full, his brain working non stop and it was all your fault.
He spent the two days in his room looking at the files.
âMaybe they burn if I stared at them for too long.â He told to himself aloud in his room.
Bucky didnât want to have your face in his mind constantly.
Your hair to soft, your smile too bright, your eyes to shiny and your voice like a melody. When he saw you the first time, his heart was beating so fast he couldnât even breathe correctly.
An angel in the tower, thatâs what he thought about you.
He put up with his hard facade, since he knew he couldnât believe or trust you right after seeing you the first time.
Truth to be told, Bucky would have immediately put his life into your hands.
Reading the file, he began thinking about how your life with him could be.
It was a fake one, but it was something.
The idea of being able to kiss you or hug you or even hold your hand was the thing that kept him awake during the evening. Deciding to avoid you? Not his best idea, but it was the only way to get you far from him even tho it seemed you didnât like to get far from him.
Bucky was mesmerised by you, he truly was but he also had to protect himself after years of being treated like a nobody.
Usually, HYDRA taught it to him, overly kind and gentle people had to make amends for something so brutal and awful did in the past.
Bucky knew how this was.
HYDRA made him a weapon, the most lethal and terrible one. People were scared of him and he had to make a gigantic amend to made people believe him.
He was still the same tough and slightly rude old man, but inside he was even the same old boy who helped Steve when bullies kicked him in the alleys. Y/N was definitely too kind, but it wasnât the first time someone like you, a literal angel, was in reality someone so bad and awful. He already seen the scenario and he didnât like it.
Back when he was fighting the Flag Smashers with Sam and John Walkers, the little and cute Karlie made his all world crumbled.
In his mind, you could be the same and he couldnât risk it all for some feelings even to he began to realise there was no escape from the feelings.
The rational part of him made him thinking.
If she was so bad, why Valentina hired her as a new member of the team?
Shouldnât be in the raft like criminals or worse, former HYDRA agent?
Seeing you as a potential threat like being a sleepy HYDRA agent made his blood boil, and even tho he was still very much attracted to you, spiritually and physically, he decided to kept the facade on and have a little digging in your past.
Family? Normal.
Education? A normal and âboringâ school somewhere in the countryside.
Former experience? Training with Shield after discovering the powers you had.
Current occupation? New member of the New Avengers and probably crush of John Walker.
He grunted and growled at the last point.
He kept looking at you, he told himself for the digging he had to do, but it was just and excuse. The upcoming mission made him tremble on his legs. He cleared the case fast enough with Valentina and Mel and run to his room. Once he was inside, he threw himself on the bed face against the pillow.
He suffocated a grunt and push the pillow more against his face.
âWhy me?â He mumbled in the soft pillow. âWhy?â
He began thinking, really thinking, at the implications.
He would have to hold your hand, easy job.
He would have to hug you, slightly out of his comfort zone but manageable.
He would have to kiss you, this made the mission tougher than any mission implying HYDRA ever did.
As the jet landed, Bucky let you out first. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent.
First sign of his surrender.
A car waited for you, keys above the tire.
He helped with the small luggage and put it with his in the back.
On the jet before landing, you both changed. You picked a light blue sundress with white sneakers. Your hair down, free from anything. They moved along the light breeze and Buckyâs super smell caught every particle of scent. He opted for a pair of black trouser and a white shirt, casual and comfy. The t-shirt was too white, your dress too light. He stuttered a little when he saw you, just as you did looking at his chest in that t-shirt.
Absentmindedly, he opened the door for you.
âThanks,â
He nodded and quickly circled the car jumping on. Keys in the ignition and the car moved.
The dress slid up a little, your legs now slightly more visible.
He gripped the steering wheel with his metal hand, while the other one, kept its grip on the gear. He was very tempted by grazing your skin, already tanned.
âWhen weâre there,â Bucky began talking. âWeâŚuh⌠should begin the process⌠I mean the marriageâŚâ
âUh- sure,â you replied. âWhatâs your idea?â
âDonât knowâŚâ Bucky gripped the steering wheel harder. âI can opened the door for you and maybe put my arm on your shouldersâŚâ
Your breath caught in your throat.
He spent weeks avoiding you and now he was willing to do all of that. You were aware of why he needed to do that, but as the skilled agent he was he could have found another way.
âFine by me.â You smiled at him and you saw how his lips slightly raised.
The rest of the journey was used to make a tactical plan. You found out you were able to talk and you decided about what you could and couldnât do.
Arms around the shoulders? Fine.
Hugging the side? Also fine.
Kisses? Not necessarily if not the least of your resources.
He entered the street, in a very beautiful district with lots and lots of condos there.
Valentina thought that getting an apartment would have been way more easier than a solo house.
âLess welcoming from neighbours,â she said. âAnd the nightclub is right ahead of you in one of the most popular and crowded streets.â
Once Bucky parked the car in one of the street spot, he jumped off and circled the car. He picked the luggage in the back and walked toward your door. He opened it, still having all the bag in his covered metal arm, and let you jumped off too.
As he said in the car, he circled your shoulders.
Ahead of the condo, where the lodge was, a couple of man were waiting for you. Valentina called some Shieldâs agents to help you with moving, just for making the thing more real.
âAndrew?â One of the man called. âAnd you must be Jane, right?â
The man, fully aware of you too, glanced at you a little too much. Buckyâs hand lightly pressed more on you.
âYeah, we talked on the phone.â Bucky replied, arm still on you.
âMiss Mel gave us the keys and we put the boxes already in the apartment. Hereâs the key,â he stretched the arm in front of you.
âThanks,â Bucky grabbed them, losing the contact with your body. âIâll have them.â
Once the concierge man got out and saluted you, Bucky grabbed the luggage he rested for a second on the ground before you could take them.
âLet me, Jane.â
You nodded smiling, while grabbing his biceps. âAlways a gentleman,â you kissed his clothed arm.
The metal one.
âIâm sure he is,â the concierge man told you. âHey, are you not hot with that cover?â He said pointing at the covered arm.
Bucky that day opted for a white T-shirt, but he put an additional sleeve and glove just on the left arm.
âUh,â Bucky said smiling. âA little, but gotta do what I have to do⌠lost it serving the countryâŚâ
The man nodded proudly.
Valentina chose your cover precisely and that included Bucky being in the military due to his built.
âBig guy I can let you walk out there without not putting in the army.â
Bucky nodded but you noticed how he had a slightly sad look.
You cover was way more easier. Jane was an author and needs to spent time home writing her first novel.
After talking a little with the concierge, and a couple of your new neighbours, you and Bucky got in the elevator and pressed the button of your floor. Valentina chose the attic.
âMaximum security and comfort,â she told you while she explained the mission. âAnd you wonât have anyone above you.â
Buckyâs arm was still on your shoulders. He noticed when you were already at your floor. âSorry.â
âDonât worry.â And again, you grabbed his biceps.
Inside, the apartment was gorgeous.
Entering in the large, maybe too large, living room you could accessed to the kitchen on the left and the terrace right in front of you. Getting out, Bucky glanced down. âHereâs the club.â
âCrowed even during the day.â You added.
You got back inside and looked for the bedrooms.
Entering the corridor, you saw two identical bathroom and two others doors. You grabbed a knob, while Bucky grabbed the other one.
Two bedrooms, same style.
You nodded at each other and entered closing behind both doors. You both lost track of the time.
You felt asleep and a knock on the door woke you up. You heard talking behind the door and opened it.
âYeah weâre here. We must have felt asleep,â Bucky said, phone against his ear. âValentina.â He silently mouthed you.
âHi Val,â you said, scratching your eyes yawning.
âShe asked if youâre okay,â Bucky reported you.
You raised your thumb entering the bathroom.
Bucky smiled at your back.
You splashed some fresh water on your face, while he was still talking. You got out of the bathroom with the dress still on, so while you heard Bucky saluting Valentina you got back in the room to change. You got out some minutes later, after checking the clothes she chose for you. You picked some short and a blouse.
âWhat something to eat?â You asked Bucky with your usual smile.
âYeah, I can order something.â
You opening the fridge still and looked inside, bending down a little.
Bucky stood from the couch and stopped walking.
Thatâs gonna be tough, he thought.
âUh⌠she packed already the fridge I seeâŚâ he noticed.
âAnd the pantry,â you said, opening some cabinets. âFancy some pasta?â You said already picking a pack of spaghetti.
âPastaâs fine.â
You picked pans and pots and started to cook, while he got the table ready. You moved already like a couple.
Once it was ready, you sat in front of each other.
âWhatâs the plan for today, Andrew?â
âPractising already?â
âWell,â you said picking a big fork of pasta. âGotta know whatâs my husband wants.â
He looked at his finger. The ring sat there, calm and steady.
You looked down at your hand too and played with it.
âYou chose a good one,â you teased him.
âGotta know whatâs my wife wants.â He smiled softly.
In that moment you thought that you could do anything.
During the afternoon, you decided to take a look at the district. You walked onto the Main Street, where the club was. Your shoulders kept bumping into each other. At the crosswalk, he let you stay in front of him slightly and put his hand onto your lower back.
You pushed yourself behind, resting yourself a little on his body. You decided to have a coffee in a cafe near the club.
âWe should take a look at the bodyguardâs past. Looks he has some past,â Bucky said sipping his coffee.
âWeâll do it tonight after-â
âWHAT A LOVELY COUPLE! PLEASE LET ME TAKE A PICTURE!â A man yelled happily.
You looked at him and smiled. âOh Andrew look,â you said pointing at his Polaroid. âCan we take one please?â
âSure,â Bucky replied smiling.
It was the first real smile you saw on his face.
The man told you to get closer. You did and your cheek crushed on his.
As he took the picture, you stayed there for a couple of seconds more. He gave it to Bucky and he gave him some money.
âThank you! Thank you! Really nice couple.â
âThanks.â You both replied.
At the sun sat down, you got back to the apartment.
Bucky talked and you found out he liked talking a lot.
You began a routine.
At breakfast you always prepared the coffee and this time, Bucky always picked the cup from your hands.
At lunch he cooked, failing sometimes, but you ate no matter what.
Dinner time was the funniest moment, whoever lost the game of searching different things or people made the dinner.
You sat on the terrace, binoculars in your hands for the recognition of the club, trying to beat a super soldier.
âThere. On the bench. A guy with a red shirt.â
You huffed.
âOh⌠on the balcony. Second floor. A dog sleeping.â
âBuckyyy... câmon.â
âWhat? You canât beat me.â He snorted. âThere, on the first floor. Someone dancing.â
You raised your arm, waving an imaginary white flag.
Useless to say, you made dinner every night.
The first week goes pretty well. Bucky finally opened up and smiled even more.
He talked about his past, which of course you knew already. âIt wasnât simple getting into the game again. My skills were used to the wrong purposes and⌠it took me a lot.â
You rested your hand on his. âBut you were stronger. Everyone knew you were the victim, Bucky. Donât let stupid people thing something else of you.â
âAnd you?â He asked after some minutes of silence. âWhatâs your story?â
âYou know my story. I know you looked at it.â
âMaybe but I want to hear it from you.â
You told him everything but the HYDRA part about your father. He would have known, but it wasnât the right time.
âSo youâre a genetic miracle?â He said softly but quiet not fully convincing.
âYou can say that.â You involuntarily touched your neck.
âLeft the necklace at home?â
âHow do you know about it?â
I canât stop staring at you, Bucky thought.
âIâm a pretty good observer.â
âItâs a gift from someone very important.â
âA lover?â He shyly asked.
âMuch more like a dad,â you laughed.
You couldnât tell if it was real but his all body relaxed.
Two weeks in, you collected a lot of information about the club and the owner.
You tracked how the same guy made back and forth with a big bag every two days.
The owner, a man with dark hair always wearing black clothes, made long phone calls on the threshold of his club every morning.
âRight in front of everyone,â Bucky noticed.
âSo he seems like a normal guy.â You added.
At the beginning of the third week, you decided it was time to get into the club. You picked a short green dress. No sleeves or collar. Bucky opted for a black shirt, two buttons opened, and tight jeans. You reached the elevator and then he kissed your naked shoulder.
âCameras,â he told you whispering.
It was a mere excuse, and Bucky took advantage of that.
âRight.â You said peaking his cheek.
You entered the elevator hand in hand. You stepped out of the building and crossed the street.
âAndrew and Jane.â Bucky told the bodyguard, circling your waist.
He let you enter.
The hostess inside took a glance of Bucky and you felt a wave of jealousy rising inside you. You sat at a table and admire the interior.
âDidnât think it was like thatâŚâ you said, sitting.
Bucky too took a glance around him. âThought it was a stripper clubâŚâ
You ordered a couple of drinks, a martini for yourself and a whiskey for Bucky.
He sipped it slowly, letting his mouth curling around the edge of the glass. You played with the glass and then took a sip too.
A drop felt from your mouth and Bucky quickly cleaned it.
âThanks,â you whispered. âWe should take a look around.â
âFancy a dance wifey?â
âWith absolute pleasure, hubby.â
He stood and stretched his arm, you took it and stood too. He guided you on the dance floor where tons of people were moving and dancing. You turned, giving him a look of your back. He pulled you toward him, crushing on his chest. You swayed your hips following the music. He grabbed your hips, letting you guide him.
You turned your head a little, talking at his ear. âWe should dance toward that door,â you turned into his arms. âSeems like itâs protecting something important.â
He nodded.
You began to slide on the floor, trying following the music.
Once you where near the door, he tried to grab the knob. The doors was of course locked.
âCan try to open it,â he said. âNeed some time tho.â
As he took out the lockâs pick, someone was heard talking in the background.
Bucky stood abruptly and pushed you against the wall. He grabbed your hips and pushed himself more on you.
He angled his face and kissed you.
It wasnât romantic.
It wasnât prepared.
It was just the heat of moment after being almost blown out. You respond to the kiss immediately. Circling his neck, you pressed even more on him. Your fingers tangled in his locks. His leg in the middle of your, caging you. You lifted you leg, he gripped it under your tight. You both moaned in the kiss not noticing the two men arriving.
âGuys you canât-â
You kept kissing a couple second more.
Too many.
âOh sorry guys,â the man said quiet embarrassed. âSorry but you canât stay here.â
You were frozen.
âUh⌠yeah⌠sorry,â Bucky said, hands trying to tied up his hair. âWe were⌠uh⌠sorry we got caught up in the momentâŚâ
âHey,â the man touched Buckyâs shoulder, thankfully the flesh one. âItâs no problem but you need to⌠you knowâŚâ
âOh yes⌠sorry again.â Bucky mumbled.
You simply nodded, cheeks red.
Bucky engulfed in a side hug, worsening the situation.
Once you were both outside, you finally relaxed a little.
You crossed the street in silence but holding hands. A shy nod to the night concierge and then into the elevator. You rested your head against his shoulder as you knew he was looking at you. Bucky let you pass once the door opened and pressed the button.
Entering the apartment, he rested the back against the closed door. You bent down over the backrest of the couch. No one talked but suddenly, you both began to laugh.
Bucky sat on the floor, sliding his back on the door. You knelt behind the couch, forehead resting on it. You looked at him and he looked at you.
After a couple of minutes, gaining your breath again from the laugh, he stood and you mimicked him. He gave you his hand and you shook it snorting.
âWell that was fun.â You said.
âYeah⌠it was.â
His fingers lingered a seconds more around yours. Just as his lips did with yours. You both entered in your own room, then getting out right after with your pj on.
Smiling, you both entered in the bathroom.
Bucky undressed himself quickly and jumped in the shower. His body naturally reacted to the kiss and he hoped you wouldnât find it weird.
The icy cold water streamed on his body, calming his nerves. He involuntarily passed his hand on the nape of his neck, where you did grab a lock of his hair.
In the other bathroom, you sat in the closed toilet. Knees up and head against them. A tear escaped your eyes. All of this, was fake. He wasnât your husband, you thought looking at the ring you never took off. You still felt the pressure of his hand on your leg. The hunger of his lips. His soft hair in your fingers.
You stood and undressed. An icy cold shower would have resolved everything, at least you hoped.
Getting out of the bathroom, in the same moment as you practiced it all, was a little weird.
âGood night, Bucky.â
âNight, Y/N.â
You spent the night staring at the ceiling
Doors closed, the world kept shouting outside.
Bucky laid on his bed with his hands crossed on his chest. The memory of your taste still on his lips. Your warm body missing against his.
On the other side, you laid stomach down. Your face crushed into the pillow and not on his chest. Kissing Bucky made your legs buckle and when you touched his pecs, you felt his heartbeat. You did feel other part of his body and hoped he didnât feel your nipples getting hard, but you knew he definitely did feel those.
You tried to not being conditioned by the kiss the next morning when you woke up.
You barely slept, Bucky didnât even try. You heard the coffee machine in the kitchen and looked at the time. The clock on your wall ticked six in the morning. You huffed and sat on the bed, taking a deep breath you stood and opened the door. You walked slowly toward the living room and then the kitchen.
âOh sorry,â Bucky said, mug in his hands. âDidnât wanna bother you. Want some?â He asked pointing at the coffee.
âYeah, thank you.â
You sat on a stool, not used to see him making the breakfast.
âBlack with-â
âBlack with three sugar,â Bucky exclaimed. âLike Walker.â
âHow?â
âTold you Iâm a good observer.â
You drank in silence your coffee but suddenly you decided to break it.
âBucky we need to talk.â
âListen Y/N,â he began. âI made it just for the mission⌠but Iâm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortableâŚâ
âBucky,â you sat better. âIâm not uncomfortable but⌠you avoided me at first and now you kissed me⌠I know it was for the mission but⌠we could have⌠I donât know⌠had a fightâŚâ
âI know. It wonât happen again.â
You were both so good at your job that you found a routine to use between the two of you.
The mission went pretty well, days passed and you guys integrated well enough with the people in the district.
The bakery knew how Jane loved a cinnamon roll while writing her novel. You tried to write something on your computer, to make the world knew you were in fact a real author. Valentina prepared some old articles and rearranged, letting you being able to consulted them in public. At the outsideâs eyes, you were digging and looking for information for your novel.
The barista knew Andrew came in the cafe asking for a coffee in the afternoon. He went every afternoon, at the stroke of five o clock. He got out of the office and on his way home, he picked up a cup of coffee and something for his wife.
âLucky woman, Jane,â the barista said.
âIâm the lucky one.â Bucky always replied.
The kiss came up in your mind every night, but the still two weeks remaining didnât allow you to distract.
You and Bucky made a very detailed report to Valentina every two or three days.
Two weeks left now, the party was the last big piece of the puzzle.
In the previous days, after the kiss, you used the excuse to hang out just to enter more in the club. You noticed the same guy with the same bag and people coming back and forth. Those people, seems every time a little bit bigger. You saw them leaner and with more muscles. A shiver run down your spine. HYDRA really did use those club to spread the pills with the serum.
Bucky used to run every morning, particularly when the garbage man took his sweet time every morning with their trash. Feigning a cramp, he stretched his legs on a bench right outside the club. Bucky wore a pair of glasses with a camera in the rod. Once he came back, he gave the glasses to you and you downloaded every time the images.
As you sat with the computer in front of you, Bucky drank from a bottle of water. He always did after his run and you began to think it was a mere way of teasing.
You felt in a trap but you didnât let him win all the time.
As you preferred running in the evening in the park, you came back sweaty and hard breathing, you stretched in the living room. Bucky was always on the couch reading some notes and looking at the pics he took during the day. You always stretched your arms in the air, letting your t-shirt rise a little. Bucky always changed the way he was sitting and licked his lips every time you turned.
It was the night of the party that changed everything.
Valentina didnât arrange the invitation by a mere case of fortune. She knew that the climbs owner every year invited the people on the district to his annual party.
âItâs easy and effective. They saw him as a philanthropist and of course having the club in an exclusive position made him seems legitimate.â Valentina explained on the phone speaker some days before the event.
âDid you guys let him see you?â
âBarely,â Bucky replied.
âHeâs never in the club. We donât know him.â
âDid you saw him?â
âOnce,â you said.
âThatâs enough,â Valentina replied. âY/N?â She asked.
âYes?â
âI think you should flirt with him a little bit,â Valentina suggested.
âDid you remember sheâs married to me?â Bucky asked, raising his voice.
âDid you remember itâs an undercover mission, Barnes?â Valentina asked Bucky. âAnd a lot of wife married with other man every dayâŚâ she left the phrase hanging in the air.
Yeah but no husband looks like Bucky, you thought.
âHow should I do it?â You asked.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. You put your hand on his. âShould I let him buy me a drink?â
âUse your weapon darling.â
âAlright,â you declared. âIâll see once Iâll be there.â
Bucky stopped the call. His voice dropping down in a second.
âLetâs get ready.â He said, standing and running to the bedroom.
âBuck-â
He already closed the door.
You got back to your room and your phone rang, your personal one. Looking at the screen you saw your fatherâs number blinking.
âHey,â you tried to feign happiness.
âYouâre a terrible liar,â your dad replied back. âWhatâs going on?â He asked you serious.
You explained him all.
About how Bucky still didnât know how you got your powers. About how your dad in HYDRA wasnât an easy thing to say to Bucky. How Valentina suggested you to flirt with the clubâs owner and Bucky had that weird reaction.
Bucky.
Bucky.
Bucky.
He was in your head.
In your heart.
On your lips.
âWoah,â you dad exclaimed. âToo much information honey.â He replied as you were talking about the kiss you and Bucky shared.
âSorry,â you laughed.
âHoney,â his tone sweet like sugar. âIf you think Buckyâs the one⌠you should be talking to him.â
âI donât know how Bucky would react knowing that-â
âReact to what?â Bucky exclaimed.
You forgot to lock the door and he had super hearing.
Terrible combo.
âI gotta go. Talk to you later,â you stopped the call. âBucky is not what you thinkâŚâ
âExplained it to me then.â He almost ordered.
âI-I canâtâŚâ
âI knew it. Your hiding something,â he looked at you with hate. âLetâs finished this mission and then youâre gonna leave the Avengers once and for all.â
âBucky no-â
But he was already out of your room.
You knelt on the floor crying.
After an hour, where you didnât even hear him at all, he opened the door to your room. You sat on the bed, tying the lace on your shoes.
âAre you ready?â He asked you. The sweet tone he had, completely gone.
âReady.â
It wasnât simple feigning love when the other person almost didnât look at you. Bucky was a great spy but a terrible liar and he couldnât handle not being affectionate to you. He still had his hand on your waist. His lips lingered on the delicate skin on your shoulder. He kissed the top of your head standing in the queue in front of the club.
For the occasion, the club was completely transformed. Red drapes and black rug on the floor.
âHYDRAâs colours,â he whispered in your ear.
You nodded.
Once it was your turn, the bodyguard recognised you and let you in.
If the outside of the club was the same, the inside was totally reorganised. The red drapes on the outside seemed lighter on the inside. The table were all covered in black tablecloths and red roses stood in the middle in tall and glassy vases.
You dress had a long and deep slit, sitting down your tight was visible.
Bucky did take a look at your leg.
âLadies and gentleman, welcome. Every night, people walk through these doors looking for something. It may be freedom or purpose or even a chance to leave the world outside behind,â the man began speaking.
The man was the owner.
The real mind behind everything.
The man creating a new squad of super soldier using peopleâs weakness.
âI believe weâre all capable of becoming more than we think, if weâre willing to let go of our limits and embrace change. So tonight, forget who you were when you arrived. Dance, celebrate, and enjoy every moment. By the time you leave, you might discover youâre stronger than you ever imagined. To new beginnings.â
Everyone around you cheered and applauded.
âWelcome to the Cepire.â
Cepire.
Your mind worked relentlessly.
âBucky,â you shook his arm. He barely turned his head. âBucky,â you called him again whispering.
âWhat?â He replied. His tone showing no affection.
âBucky⌠Cepire is the anagram of Pierce,â he finally looked at you in the eyes.
âWhat?â
You moved closer, linking your arm around his neck. Your mouth and warm breath against his ear. âI think this is Pierceâs son.â
âHow do you know Pierce?â He asked you angry. âY/N? How did you?â Anger flashing across his face.
âPlease,â you kissed him. A quick peck on his lips. He remained frozen. âTrust me and proceed with the mission. Letâs have a fight and Iâm gonna try to find something.â
He stood. âOh yeah itâs convenient for you. Why donât said anything before?â
You mentally thanked him.
âAm I not free enough to make decisions?â You stood abruptly too. âYou know what? Iâm going now.â
People around you looked at you.
âSorry.â You told them.
Bucky made his way toward the bar. You moved to the other side, where a long table full of flutes of champagne stood there.
âWhat a stunning woman like you is doing all alone here?â
The owner moved toward you. His voice deep and weirdly soft.
âRegretting my marriage⌠oh stupid champagne,â you said, glancing at him. âIt made my tongue run a little too fast.â
âAm I sensing some trouble in paradise?â
Well, letâs see.
He made his personal mission hating on you since day one. You couldnât be honest with him even if you would literally put your life into his hands. He then made a teeny tiny step ahead with you. And lastly he kissed you like his life depended on that to ânot blow up the coverâ.
You could have said that, but instead you skated over. âNothing like that,â you rested your hand on his forearm. âBut sometimes⌠marriage is tough.â
You said, emptying the glass of champagne.
He snapped his fingers, and second later a waiter appeared with another flute of champagne.
You took it from his hand, letting your fingers grazed his. You didnât see Bucky, but it was like feeling his presence on you.
The man, you were now sure was Pierceâs son, kept talking and leaning towards you. He moved closer, whispering something at your ear. âYou shouldnât let a man conditioning your lifeâŚâ he said, looking at you with a spark in his eyes.
âMaybe youâre right-â
Your head felt heavy. Closing your eyes, you leaned on the counter.
He snacked his arm around you, cradling your head on his shoulder. âThere you are⌠Y/N.â
But you were already passed out on his shoulder.
Bucky went out, not seeing the scene. He took his phone out of his pocket and called Valentina.
She answered immediately. âAny news?â She asked worried.
âY/N thinks the owner may be Pierceâs son.â He didnât asked. The told her.
Valentina didnât reply immediately.
âIs he?â He asked now as confirmation.
âWe had some doubts about that but⌠if she thinks that it may be true.â
âYou put us on a mission with Pierceâs son? Are you of your mind? You should have told us at least.â He whispered shouted.
âBarnes,â she tried to talk. âWe couldnât say it for sure. We need confirmation first.â
âWell now you have it andâŚâ Bucky stooped.
âAnd what? Barnes?â
âSheâs flirting with him⌠like you suggested it⌠gotta go. Talk to you later.â
He didnât wait for her reply.
Entering again the club, Bucky didnât see you. Panic began to rise inside his body and a wave of fear invaded his mind. âY/N where are you?â He asked himself.
In the back of the club, you woke up on a chair. No chain or rope. Just sat there.
A man, overly tall and muscular, stood in front of the door.
There were no windows and just a bulb of light hanging on the ceiling.
The door opened.
The owner, better saying Pierceâs son, entered the room and ordered the man to leave you alone.
You gulped.
âWell, well, well,â he began. âY/N Y/L/N. Howâs daddy?â
âDonât know,â you replied, now weirdly calm. âHowâs your daddy?â
He touched his chest, right above his heart, wounded. âValentina didnât teach you manners I seeâŚâ
Your hands began to shake. Tiny flakes of white sparks rose on your palms, but they didnât strike up.
âI wouldnât, if I were you,â he said, stretching his shirt sleeves. âThis room have an electric magnetic field around it. Your powers are⌠useless inside here.â
âThey will come to find me.â
âOh we counted on it. Especially your husband⌠Andrew right?â His smile darkened. âNever thought of the Winter Soldier as⌠Andrew.â
Every time he pronounced Buckyâs fake name, a shiver run down your spine.
âYou got me for a second,â he seemed like he was complementing you. âBut Iâve never forget my dadâs best experiment⌠and you,â he circled the chair. âYou have your dadâs eyes. Same expression of someone wanting to do the good thing. He was weak.â
âMy father was a victim but he was never weak.â
âHe was.â And then he smacked your head making you falling from the chair.
Pain rose inside your head, you felt the warm blood streaming on your forehead but also noises from outside.
You smiled weakly. âHeâs coming for you.â
âAgain, I hope that.â
He moved like a shadow and got out the room, leaving you alone on the floor. You tried to stand slowly. Your head banging and your arm hurting as you felt on that. You heard punches, shooting and yelling.
When the door opened, you fear for your life but a shiny hand helped you to stand properly.
Bucky.
âY/N,â he was panicking. âMy god what did he do?â
âHit my head⌠Bucky everything is spinningâŚâ
âRest on me, sweetie.â
Holding you up, he got the both of you out. You saw the man that was in the room with you, laying on the floor. A bullet in his forehead.
âNot so fast, soldat.â Pierceâs son told in the dark corridor.
Not seeing him, you began to run. Bucky held your body with his metal arm, while the other held a gun. You arrived on the dance floor, empty. No one was there anymore.
As there was no other people in there, or thatâs what you both thought, he pushed you under a table moving his attention to Pierceâs son.
He was fast, so damn fast.
Bucky blinked when he shoved him on the ground. No one could tackled down Bucky, but he did it.
You felt the power rising in you, and you tried to stand. In that moment a couple of men, incredibly strong and big, arrived. You stretched your arms ahead of you, pointing at them. White streaks came out of your palms. You felt the power rising in your body and seeing Bucky on the ground, fighting for his life, gave you a purpose.
The two men were strong but you power was stronger. In a second they were on the ground, frozen to death.
Pierceâs son looked at you for a second, while Bucky was still on the ground. âOh,â he muttered. âWe bet on the wrong horse.â
He moved toward you, gun in his belt. As he took it, Bucky swung his legs making his losing the balance.
He regained it quickly and pointed the gun at Buckyâs chest. âI wouldnât,â he smiled. âDonât want your boyfriend to suffer, right?â
In a rush of adrenaline, you made the chandelier shaking. Seeing a white aura around you, Pierceâs son looked up at the chandelier. In that moment, you stroke at him. Falling down, he pressed the trigger of the gun and a bullet landed in Buckyâs side.
âBUCKY!â You yelled full of anger.
Pierceâs son laid down on the ground dead. You slid toward Bucky, crawling on the floor.
You rest your palms on his side and cried.
âPlease... Bucky stay with me. Please donât leave me.â
You closed your eyes for a second, concentrating. Your hands began to glow, feeling the powers flooding from your body to his.
It happened all fast around you, but you were concerned only about Bucky and saving his life.
You felt a hand on your shoulder and you flinched lifting your right hand in the air while the left one remained on Bucky.
âWhoa,â John lifted his arms. âItâs me. What happened?â
The rest of the team and Valentina entered.
âI donât know⌠I really donât⌠I killed him,â you said, pointing your head toward Pierceâs body. âBut he pulled the trigger⌠an-and it reached Buckyâs sideâŚâ
Under your palms, Bucky began breathing normally again.
You laid on the ground tired. Your healing power didnât affect you but with the blood still coming out of your head, it was another situation.
The paramedics took over. âMaâam,â one of them said to you. âYou did it amazing but let us work now.â
His tone was sweet so he let him.
On the ambulance, after sticked the pads on Bucky from the machine, you took his hand. He removed the oxygen mask, letting it slide on his face.
âNo Bucky,â you grabbed the mask. âYou need this.â
âOh god,â he panted. âAm I dead?â
You panicked. âGod, no. Bucky youâll live⌠youâre gonna be okay.â
âIf you say so angel. Youâre so beautiful⌠but not as beautiful as Y/N,â
A breath got stuck in your throat.
âSheâs beautiful and I was mean to her⌠sheâs always so nice and kind and gentle⌠I donât deserve her⌠when I kissed her my heart was beating like crazy...â
John behind you in the ambulance, while the other remained in the club, snorted. âKnew itâŚâ he whispered.
âShut up.â
âAngel?â
âYes, Bucky?â You said sweetly.
âWould you said it to her?â
âSaying what?â
âThat I love her⌠Iâm so sorry for treating her like that⌠Iâd love her even if she was HYDRAâŚâ
âWhat?â John whispered.
âLater.â
âSheâs the only good thing in my life and I wrecked itâŚâ
He began crying and his heartbeat rose. The paramedic in the back of the ambulance yelled. âFASTER! WEâRE LOSING HIM! Miss please,â and pushed you on the side.
âIâm telling her, Bucky.â You cried.
John hugged you tight. âItâs gonna be okayâŚâ
But he couldnât know that for sure.
In the hospital, Bucky was immediately taken into surgery.
Valentina and the other Avengers came immediately. Bob was there too.
âWhat happened?â Yelena asked.
You explained them all.
How you were flirting with the man. How you got your head heavy in a second and how you woke up minutes later in a dark room. You told them he was Pierceâs son, and Yelena fought against her tears.
John kept an arm on you. âWhy did Bucky told aboutâŚâ he didnât knew how he could say it without having implications.
âThat he would love me even if I was from HYDRA?â You looked Valentina. âYou knew right?â
She nodded.
Everyone kept looking at you.
âI was born from a man tortured by HYDRA. He was an experiment butâŚâ a tears escaped your eye. âThe serum failed on him and apparently settled in me.â
âSo you areâŚâ Bob began asking.
âNo, Iâm not a super soldier⌠but I have those powers and⌠Iâm using them for something goodâŚâ
Yelena was now crying. Ava followed her behind. Johnâs arm still on you and now Bob engulfed all in a hug.
âCome on Valentina,â he told her. âJoin usâŚâ
She did.
Yelena personally guided to the medic bay. âYou should patch it up,â she said, pointing at the forehead. âItâs bleeding again.â
You looked down.
âHey,â she lifted your chin. âNo one here is angry with you. Youâre no HYDRA. Youâre an Avenger.â
You hugged her tight. âCan you bring me to Bucky?â
She nodded.
On the other side of the med bay, in a single room, Bucky laid down.
His body totally recovered but he needed rest.
âWe gave him something to sleep. Heâs gonna need at least a couple of days to rest completely, but you did a great job healing him.â
âWhy did heâŚâ
You didnât know how to say it.
âHe had a little heart attack but itâs now all under control. His heart was beating like crazy. You can stay here if you want.â
You stayed there for two days.
You held his hand and caressed his face. Even during sleep, he was the most handsome man ever. His feature relaxed and his mouth slightly raised in the corners.
He woke up after a couple of days. You were still there.
âAngel?â He realised he was talking to you in the ambulance. âGod I fumbled.â
âYou didnât,â you caressed his cheek. âI was so worried.â
âIf youâre HYDRA⌠please tell me before Iâm gonna do something irresponsibleâŚâ
You preceded him and kissed him.
He responded immediately to the kiss. His hands shaking but firmly rested on your head, pulling you into him. He panted when you put your body slightly on him.
âOuch,â he grunted. âCareful sweetheart.â
âOh god sorry.â
You sat on the chair near his bed, keeping his hand between yours and explained all to him.
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of time but his eyes remained steady on you. âI was worried you were here for them⌠and I treated you as a threat but,â he snorted. âYouâre by far the most kind and amazing woman Iâve ever seen.â
âYeah I know,â you slid a lock of hair for his face. âThe angel told meâŚâ you teased him.
âPlease,â he closed his eyes smiling. âDonât reminded me.â
âIâll make it as my personal mission, Barnes.â
You both stared at each other with nothing but love in your eyes.
âSo heâs dead?â He asked you.
âDead.â You confirmed.
The following days were like a dream. Bucky found himself as a lover boy and you loved it. He waited for you in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
âYou should rest, Bucky.â
âCanât,â he kissed your cheek. âNeed to make amends for my behaviour.â
Yelena and Ava entered the kitchen and smiled but right after they playfully teased him.
âSo heâs dead crumbled first right?â
âShut up Belova.â He smiled, arm linked to your waist.
âGod your such a sapâŚâ
John delighted by the scene, hugged you both. âFound your match I see. Donât ruin it man.â
âWouldnât dream on itâŚâ
Bob looked at you like a little kid watching his parents in love.
Valentina entered unannounced. âHey look at this,â she sid not surprised.
Bucky had his all body crushed against yours. He leaned behind you, hugging your waist while you spread some jam on a bagel.
âGuys can I talk to you?â She said, serious. âIn private?â
You followed her into another room.
âPierceâs son is definitely dead,â she told.
You and Bucky both huffed relieved.
âYou were right about everything Y/N and⌠Iâd like to make you an apology. We should have informed you.â
âI get it why you didnât, Valentina.â
âAnyway Iâm here for those,â she reached in her pocket. âThis is for you.â
Bucky picked the envelope. âA reservation for an hotel?â
âItâs my apology gift for you,â she smiled. âPicked a five star hotel here in New York and spent some days resting,â she finished. âBut not too much. The world needs you.â
The same night, Bucky chose the most luxurious hotel in town. Spa in the room, meals in bed and a terrace. You left the tower the same exact night, as you were too excited to spent time alone. As you arrived in the massive suite, Bucky immediately orderer room service.
âWhat you want, doll?â He asked you, cornering you. âIâll buy you everything you like.â
âWell,â you circled his neck. âSince you were very rude,â you kissed the tip of his nose.
âUh uh,â he moaned.
âSurprise me⌠letâs see if youâre worthyâŚâ
You removed your hands from his neck and slid toward the bedroom.
As Bucky ordered on the phone, you took all the clothes off. â⌠yeah thank you. Half and hour? Perfect. Bye.â He hung up. âDoll,â he told you. âItâs gonna be around-â
You hid yourself behind the bedroomâs door, letting only your leg out.
âDoll,â he panted.
âWant to take a shower before eating?â You asked, battling your lashes.
Bucky did definitely want that.
He run to you and you squeaked happily. He was in the bathroom in a second. He looked at you fully.
Naked and glowing.
He saw the ring sitting on your finger. âYou still have it.â
âKinda like it.â You said, entering the shower.
He removed all of his clothes and jumped in the shower with you.
You couldnât avoid looking at his all body.
His massive frame occupied most of the space. His hard pecks stood in front of you. His hands immediately reached and grabbed your waist. He pushed you against the wall. His cock already hard, pointing up against his stomach. âYeah⌠sorryâŚâ he said blushing.
You grabbed the shaft and began stroking it. With your free hand, you pulled him down on your lips. He let you do all.
âDoll,â he panted against your lips.
âYou like it?â You asked teasing him.
Your hand become icy cold, a delicious contrast with the hot water running above you.
âFucking love itâŚâ he grunted, resting his metal hand on the wall.
As his cock twitched in your hand, you removed it from around his cock just as he was about to come.
âWhat,â he whined at the loss. âDoll,â
You turned and picked up the shampoo. Squeezing it you lather on your hands and then on your scalp. Once your head was all bubbly, you use the remained shampoo and washed his hair.
He bent down his head and let you spread the foam on his head. Your nails scratched his scalp with the perfect amount of force.
Conditioner and body wash, were the following steps.
You rinsed your body then his and stopped the water. You stepped out and took a nice and fluffy towel. Bucky did the same. He was still half hard and shocked.
Not even ten minutes later, someone knocked on the door. âRoom service.â
Bucky opened, worried his visible excitement was still showing, and gave the waiter a big and overly generous tip.
He brought the cart inside the room, in the living room, where you were waiting for him.
Again, naked.
âYouâre killing meâŚâ
âI hope so.â
He positioned the cart in front of the table and pulled off the towel too. You took your time looking at him. He sat and lifted one of the cloches.
The most perfect steak and potatoes appeared. Juicy and tender. A perfect combination of flavour and texture. You drank a little bit of wine, adding warm to your body. Just the sight of a naked super soldier in front of you was enough. When he lifted the last cloche, after finishing your steak and potatoes, you saw the dessert he ordered.
A cup of fresh and red strawberries and whipped cream.
âWhy donât you come here, doll.â He tapped his tight.
You moved on autopilot.
Standing, he glanced again at you. You circled the table and he pulled his chair back. You sat on his tight, legs closed. Your knees grazed his cock.
He grabbed a strawberry and bit into it before pushing it into your lips. You bit where he did and some juice escaped your mouth. He licked it clean and moved down on your chest, where some drops felt too. He closed his lips around your nipple and you moaned at the contact.
âBucky,â
âYeah,â he sucked it harder. âSay my name.â
You dipped your finger in the whipped cream and spread it on his lips, then licked it clean all.
His cock twitched and you felt it under your legs. You decided to not let this man suffer. You took some whipped cream and spread it on his tip. You knelt on the ground, between his legs and licked the cream of his body.
âJesus,â he moaned, as his hand flew into your hair.
You hollowed your cheeks and took him fully. You fought a little gag reflex and sucked him. Hard and deep.
He put his other hand on your head. He guided you but let you have your pace. You felt it twitching into your mouth and sucked him harder. He came with a grunt, holding for some seconds your head there. You looked at him, swallowing all.
He stared at you hungrily and moved the plates on the table. Making the right amount of space, he picked you up and sat you on the table. He spread your legs and dove in your core. You rested your weight on your elbow while your other hand grabbed his hair.
âGod, Bucky⌠please donât stop.â
He rested his hands on your legs and opened them more. His tongue lapped your clit and hole. Nothing left behind.
As he sensed your core clenching, he inserted two fingers in you. Moving them in and out, he kept sucking on your clit.
âWanna come Bucky⌠let me comeâŚâ
âDo it,â he sweetly ordered.
You cried out as you came. Wave of pleasure coming out of your body like and explosion and tiny sparks of white light came out from your palms. You sat there panted. Your chest moving up and down.
âGod youâre addictingâŚâ He stood up and kissed you.
Both of his hands on your face as he devoured your lips. He picked you up and you squeaked grabbing his neck. He let you down on the bed like you were the most fragile thing ever. You spread your legs more and he laid in between. His cock pressing on your still throbbing core. He kissed you like that night in the club. His hands grabbing your tights before rolling his hips.
âBucky do somethingâŚâ
He took his cock in his hand and glided your core with his tip. He passed it between your folds, collecting all the wetness.
âPlease,â
He inserted his tip, just the tip, and you moaned at the feeling. He pushed himself more into your pussy. You felt the stretch and every inch of him. He sat there on his knees, fully inside. He let you adjust to his size and then he began to move. He pulled out and pushed back. Your hands grabbed the sheet. He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, holding your arm up. He dipped down to kiss your opened mouth. He dove down more on your collarbone and neck, sucking a point he quickly found out was your weakness.
As you clench more around him, he began to move faster. âIâm coming BuckyâŚâ
âMe too,â he kissed you more. âCome with me.â
Your second orgasm rose inside you. He sealed your mouth with his as he played with your clit with his finger. He walked through your pleasure.
As you came down, he crushed your body with his like a weighted blanket. His body, warm and sweaty, comforting you.
You both remained there for some minutes without talking. He broke the silence. âIâm sorry,â he told you whispering.
âI thought you hated meâŚâ you whispered back. âI really thought you were⌠I donât even know whatâŚâ
âIâve never really hated you,â he rose his head, looking straight into your eyes. âI was just scared and if I have to be honest a little scared even if your kindnessâŚâ
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou were always so kind and gentle and⌠I hate to say it but⌠HYDRA made people this gentle to trick othersâŚâ
âBucky Iâd never-â
âI know,â he kissed you sweetly. âNow I know.â
Bucky never stopped asking you sorry. He was truly disgusted by his behaviour but you perfectly understand why he did it.
One year later, you and Bucky were now officially a couple.
The team never stopped teasing Bucky for his behaviour and once you got back from the âapology giftâ Valentina gave you, they began trolling the former Winter Soldier.
âSo you did crumble, Barnes.â John asked.
It was no point in lying, so he did tell the truth. âYeah⌠and I was a moron and an assholeâŚâ
âIndeed she could have someone better,â Yelena teased him and Ava choked on her coffee seeing Buckyâs face.
âWhat?â
âOh donât listen them⌠theyâre jealousâŚâ you kissed him deeply. âThereâs no one better.â
âAwwwwwâŚâ a choir rose inside the kitchen.
âI hate you all,â Bucky said. âNot you of course.â He kissed you once more.
He took your hand in his, where a ring sat.
It wasnât Janeâs ring, this was Y/Nâs ring.
He kissed the stone then the back of your hand.
âI canât wait to marry you, Jane.â He said whispering in your ear.
âI canât wait to marry you too, Andrew.â You replied.
What began as a mission, let the hidden feeling came out and thatâs how you liked it.
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PUNISHMENT - Is it a dream or was she truly back there?
(Marvel OC, ab_se mentioned, ANGST)
THEIR ELEGY - The priest of Spawn is calm, compassionate and collected. So why now are they trembling, tearful and horrified? What has them so petrified?
(10-parter, old Forsaken oc, TRIGGERING THEMES ARE MENTIONED)
WEIRD PASTIME, BUT OKAY - Youâre a powerful person, so thereâs no way you have silly little interestsâŚright??
(Bucky Barnes x Reader, FLUFF)
KITTY!! - Bucky is taking Steve home to get fixed up, yet again, but they happen to stumble upon a âferociousâ ball of fluff on their way home.
(Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, and Alpine Barnes, FLUFFâŚ.SORT OF)
YOU SURE ABOUT THAT? - Buckyâs complaining about Steve..again. And just like always, it slowly morphs into something more.
(Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, FLUFF)
BABY CROSSING - Dr. Raynor told Bucky he needed a therapy animal. He thinks itâs too much, but a therapy animal happens to choose him instead.
(Bucky & Alpine Barnes, ANGST & FLUFF)
THE MONSTERâS GONE⌠// HEâS ON THE RUN AND YOUR DADDYâS HERE - The Winter Soldier always completes his tasks without any sort of emotion clouding it. But what happens when the task is a child?
(Two-parter, Bucky Barnes & Child!Reader, ANGST)
BIRTHDAY BOY - Itâs Buckyâs birthday! The Thunderbolts celebrate him all in their different ways, but Coral seems like she wonât. Then Bucky finds some especially special presents in his rooms.
(Bucky Barnes x Marvel OC, FLUFF)
JELLY - Youâre a country girlâhorses are your forte. But then Bucky decides to challenge your knowledge, so you gotta teach him a lesson.
(Bucky Barnes x Reader, FLUFF)
LIKE A DOG - Coral remembers just how she wasâindependent to a fault. But now that sheâs been around the Thunderbolts more, she realizes how akin to a dog she is.
(Marvel OC x Canon, ANGST/ AB_SE MENTIONED)
A MAN THAT DOESNâT EXIST I / AMTDE II - Derek Hutchins is just another fictional man you love to a faultânever existing but in the confines of the internet and your head. But then you meet someone in your Minecraft world.
(Two-parter, D3rlord3/Derek Hutchins x Reader, FLUFF & ANGST)
YOUâRE TOO GOOD TO QIUYUAN - Qiuyuan is usually the top when you two make love, so it sincerely shocks him when you decide to offer a swap.
(Qiuyuan x Reader, SMUT)
HUMANITY - Verityâs been different ever since his scare, but recently heâs been quieter. Then, he hides away, and it worries Mob to the bone. When Verity re-emerges however, somethingâsâŚdifferent.
eating UP that verity fic. I kind of want to draw them nowâŚ
PEAAK donât worry abt writing them wrong! I think you did rlly well with their personalities n such, I also love ur interpretation of human verity :3
