angel world

That sentence echoed in your head as you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your vision was blurry, your head spun even as you laid down looking up at the shiny, intricate chandelier above the canopy bed you were currently in. 

You focused on the bizarrely alluring chandelier, blinking as you tried to bring your vision back to normal, trying to get your head to stop spinning. 

It felt like you were waking up after a night of heavy drinking. Slowly, as if not trusting your body, you sat up on the comfy bed. 

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze. 

There was that damn sentence again. What the fuck is even that? Where did it come from? You squinted as you looked around, feeling a throbbing headache forming. Nevermind the strange sentence, where were you was the real question here. How did you end up in this bed? 

Panicking you quickly assessed your body. You were still in your mission gear, except none of your guns were in their holsters. Other than that, everything felt fine. You weren’t hurt anywhere, except for a pain at the back of your neck. You moved your head, trying to figure out what the cause of the pain was, but other than some sore muscles, nothing hurt. 

You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, planting your boots on the ground and looking around. Judging by the light coming in through the ridiculously large georgian windows, it looked like it was well into the evening. And the room was… beautiful in a gothic, dark way. 

Apart from the fireplace within which was lit a small fire, and the golden scones on the walls and the chandelier above the bed, everything else was dark. The walls were dark green, the large canopy bed was all-black with dark grey bedding, the high ceiling was covered in detailed moulding. Dark, wooden coffee table and bookshelves, black leather upholstered sofas, a huge chest drawer in the corner. 

If you were kidnapped, you thought, you’d likely be in some dark room with no windows – like a dungeon. Not in a properly furnished, clean bedroom. 

You frowned as you tried to go back, trying to figure out how you got here. You got up from the bed and approached the windows, looking out. For a moment you were mesmerised by the view outside. From this window, you could see the sprawling wings of the house on either side of you. A manor, then, not a house. 

Situated at the foot of hills which rose behind the manor, partially shrouded in dense fog. Some countryside, then? You tucked that information away as you scanned the area even more. The manor it seemed was surrounded by thick woods. The hills, the fog, the dark green woods, it all seemed like it was a scene out of a mysterious, dangerous novel. The silence, the secrecy… 

You looked further around and noticed a walled garden not too far to the right, and to the complete left a… huge hedge maze. You could only see part of it but– 

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze…? 

The memory came flooding into your brain, and you almost lost your balance for a moment. 

You had been hiking up these hills for days. But a mission was a mission, correct? You looked behind you and noticed Bucky frowning in deep thought. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked your good friend. You and Bucky had been paired together for many missions recently, all of them successful. You two made a great team. He wasn’t much of a talker, and you enjoyed silence and solitude. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled, coming to a stop beside you. “I received solid intel about a house just beyond these woods. The owner deals in illegal substances,” He added in his usual, dark-humoured, self-deprecating tone, “the kind that can create worse creatures than super soldiers.” 

“Hey!” You tapped him on the chest playfully, disapproving of his joke. Still you said, “I, for one, am glad they made you.” You added to his weird humour, “I get a good friend and a perfect bodyguard all in one.” 

Bucky gave you a rare smile. It made him look boyish and young, and… handsome. You looked away quickly. It always did something to you, that smile. It was a useless little crush you’d been nurturing since that day – months ago – when Bucky took a bullet to his shoulder to save you during a crossfire. 

“You can stay here if you want,” Bucky suggested, “I’ll go take a look and come back.” 

“No,” You reached into your backpack and pulled out two fancy binoculars, handing one to him, “We just need to get on top of this hill, and then we’ll keep an eye on the house and its ground for a while,” You explained as you began hiking up the hill again, Bucky following you loyally like he had this whole time, “And then we’ll make a plan. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Getting on top of the hill was no big deal. The hike was easy and the hill was high enough that you had a clear vision of the manor and its grounds even with thick woods between the hill and the manor. 

You let out a gasp the moment you looked through the binoculars. Bucky beside you did the same thing, not gasping at the beauty of it all though. Then again, few things impressed Bucky. You supposed this luxurious, gothic manor and its elegant grounds weren’t on the list. 

“Whoever this is should be ashamed that they’re using this beautiful place for something so dark.” You whispered, looking and taking in the details of the manor. It looked enchanting in the morning light. 

“You like it?” 

“Bucky, one would have to be an absolute idiot to not appreciate the beauty of this place. No neighbours, no one to bother you. Just foggy hills, dense woods and… ooh!” You exclaimed with genuine happiness, forgetting for a moment that you were here on a mission and not sightseeing. “Bucky! There’s a maze!” 

“Really?” 

You couldn’t look away. You zoomed as much as you could, trying to take in the details. “Yes, an actual maze and it’s huge!” You had the biggest smile on your face. “Oh this is a dream, and… oh look! There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze!” 

Bucky let out a chuckle. “How cliché.” 

You kept watching, letting your guard completely down for a moment. You didn’t see Bucky approaching, you didn’t notice the shift, not until it was too late. 

“I’m sorry, doll.” 

That was the last thing you heard before feeling a burning sensation at the back of your neck, and then darkness and the warmth of Bucky’s chest as he held you to keep you from falling on the ground. 

Fuck. 

Bucky? 

Why would he do that? You didn’t do anything. You were breathing heavily now, looking around for a way out. These windows didn’t open, and the door must be– 

It opened right as you stared at it, and in walked Bucky. Dressed differently. He wasn’t in his usual mission gear. No leather jackets, no gun holsters, not even his knives. Just a casual shirt, and comfy trousers. Like this was normal. Like he was at home. 

Your eyes widened as this started to make a little more sense. But you didn’t dare think about it properly. He wouldn’t… right? He was your friend. You two had fought together for years. He was one of the good guys… right? 

“Buck?” 

He shut the door behind him as he stepped further into the room. “I came as fast as I could when they told me you were beginning to wake up.” He said a little sheepishly. 

What? But most importantly, “Who’s ‘they’?” You asked, trying your best to put all your training into practice and keeping your calm. 

“My housekeepers.” He answered like it was the most obvious thing. 

You noted the way he avoided your eyes, the way he kept flexing his metal hand. Bucky was slightly nervous. 

You took a step back, pressing against the cold windows. “What is going on? What is this place? Did you…” Your voice cracked as you asked, “Did you drug me?” 

“You wouldn’t come willingly.” He answered, staring deeply at the fireplace as he approached it and placed his metal hand on the mantle above. “And you wouldn’t be willing to listen to me.” 

Your heart pounded. What was he talking about? “This place, this house is… yours?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“And there is no guy dealing in dangerous substances, is there?” You figured this was a trap and you walked right into it. 

“No.” He answered truthfully. “There isn’t. This is my home. Well, one of them.” 

“Bucky,” You whispered, cautiously. Afraid. Wary. His home? Since when? “Why?”

He finally looked at you. The soft fire in the fireplace lit one side of his face and hid the other side in shadows. Fitting, you thought, despite it all. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He said, almost like he was offended that you would think so. “I would never hurt you, doll.” 

“I want the truth, Buck.” You stared deep into his familiar blue eyes, trying to find your friend in there. And he was there, but he was behind a dark smoke screen. “Please.” 

Bucky sighed. “Take a seat.” He said softly, settling down on one of the many sofas scattered around the spacious room. 

You didn’t. You remained there by the windows, like the distance between you and him would save you from the dangers you weren’t aware of yet. 

He sighed again, “Fine, be difficult then.” He got up, and began walking towards you. 

You panicked, remaining frozen in place for a moment. But by the time you moved to get away from him, he was too close. You went to run away but his metal hand firmly around your wrist stopped you. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, pulling you close until you hit his chest, then wrapped his other arms around you. “Believe me,” He said. 

You shook your head as you looked into his eyes, the hidden darkness in them. “What happened to you?” You whispered, “Why are you doing this?” 

He frowned as if you were the one being ridiculous. “Don’t you see? This place is perfect for us.”

For us? 

You noted the strange haze in his captivating eyes. Something was different about him. 

“What?” You blinked, ignoring the many questions you had. “Bucky, our friends, they need us.” You tried reasoning, though in vain, “We need to go back. And keep fighting–” 

“Back to what?” He argued, cutting you off. “Fight for who?” 

“The innocent people, Buck. The ones who are constant victims of our enemies, and–,” 

“I was a victim too.” He said, silencing you at once with a dark tone. “No one fought for me.” 

He rarely ever brought up HYDRA, so this was new territory to you. You approached it carefully, softening your voice as you said, “Steve did.” 

Bucky surprised you by scoffing carelessly. Dropping his voice he said, “And yet, all I ever was to him in the end was disposable.” 

That shut you up. 

For a moment you felt a fraction of the pain he felt. You always empathised with him, even before you started nurturing that little crush you had on him. “But you have the chance now, Buck.” You tried reasoning, calmly and no longer resisting his grip on your wrist. “Let’s go back, and fight so no one ever has to suffer like you did.” 

“No.” 

The finality in his tone made you shiver. “So what? You’re gonna keep me captive here and we’re gonna let the bad people win?” 

Bucky sighed. “They already won. Don’t you see the state of this world?” 

You flinched. “That’s your goal then? To punish the world and everyone in it?” 

“Punish it?” He scoffed. “No. I want to see it try and fend for itself. Or watch it die trying.” 

“Bucky…” You didn’t recognise the man you were looking at. “We can make a difference, no matter how minor. We’re the good guys, remember?” 

He let go of your hand, turned to face the windows pensively. “I’m done being good.” 

You remained frozen in place, assessing the situation quickly. He had his back to you, so he was confident you wouldn’t hurt him. He had shut the door on his way in but never locked it. That must mean even if you got past the door, he must’ve made sure you wouldn’t make it out of this house. 

But you couldn’t leave, could you? You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt you. You wouldn’t leave him here like this. Bucky was hurting, and he was acting this way because of that. But the house? Why bring you here? Why drug you? What did he want?  

“Bucky,” You said after taking a deep breath. “You’re my friend, we’ve fought together for years. You rescued me so many times. You took a bullet for me. I know you’re good.” 

He shook his head, looking out the window. “I’ve been good, all my life. I was good when I followed Steve and believed in what he stood for. I was good when I was captured, and forced to be a killing machine. I was good, deep down I know I was still good, even when they wiped my mind each time and made me perform however they wanted.” 

You flinched, your heart sinking with each word that came out of his mouth. 

He continued, as if numb to it all. 

“I was desperately good even when I found myself stuck in a wrong, superhuman body. I was good even when everyone around me expected me to get over it and keep fighting like a good little soldier.” He finally turned to you and said, “I’m done, now. What did it ever give me?” 

His words hit harder than a punch to the face. “Buck…” You almost comforted him, because there was still your dear friend, broken. But wrong. So wrong to believe there weren't still good things to fight for. “You have people who care for you.” 

“Do I?” His tone was mocking. And you didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I’ve been used in experiments that had no ethical limits. I’ve been a weapon, a commodity. I’ve been a mindless soldier. I’ve been stuck in the body of a murderer. I’ve been a throwaway friend. No one ever cared.” 

“I do.” 

Bucky was quiet. His shoulders moving just a little as he breathed deeply. 

You continued. “And Sam does. And so do all of our friends.” You argued, trying to find something, anything to prove a point, “I mean, all of Wakanda believed in you when they helped you.” 

“They did.” He almost smiled in gratitude. “But they never trusted me.” He sounded genuinely sad. “I remained a weapon.” He looked down at his shiny metal arm and added, “So easily dismantled.” 

Was this really how you would lose him? To the darkness in his head? Your heart pounded as you looked at him. Standing proud and tall, looking out the window as the darkening evening made the room even dimmer. The last logs in the fireplace cracked. And Bucky was still so beautiful standing by the window, but broken. Like a tortured and grim lord of the manor. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Buck.” You took a step back when he turned to face you. 

“No, it doesn’t.” He agreed, weirdly. Then added, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t care about the rest of the world, I’m done being a good little soldier. I just want to be a man.” He took a few more steps until he was right in front of you. His handsome face so close to yours. “And be with the woman I want, in our own quiet little paradise.” His hand reached out to gently stroke your cheek. His metal hand found itself on your waist, tugging you closer gently. “Isn’t this perfect, doll? Hmm?” 

You were so surprised that you didn’t even properly register the meaning behind his words until you replayed it in your head a few times. “You… what?”  

“You know,” He smirked, fingers now tracing your parted lips. “At first I wondered what was taking you so long to realise. I’m not very good at being subtle with my feelings, you see. But you never caught on.” His smirk widened. “And then I found out why in the best way possible.” 

You were afraid to ask for some reasons. “Why?” You whispered. 

Bucky leaned in, brushing the cold tip of his nose against your cheek, and said, “Because you like me too, and you were too busy hiding your own feelings that you didn’t pay attention to mine. Wanna know how I know?” He chuckled, “I heard you whispering my name under your breath as you touched yourself. Too many times to count.” 

You gasped in surprise, unable to move. 

“Well,” He said, “That’s a figure of speech, of course I know exactly how many times. I kept count.” He continued, loving the way you began squirming in embarrassment. “It’s the metal hand, isn’t it? It turns you on?” He chuckled. 

“You…” You finally found your voice and stumbled on your words, “You had no right.” 

He laughed, pulling away to look at you. “To listen to you moaning my name? Not my fault you’re so loud to my very, very sensitive ears.” He teased. 

He was so close. His chest, so warm. His arms around you, so perfect that you almost forgot all about the conversation you had before all this. 

You stepped away, and out of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus on the important thing here. “What do you want, Bucky?” 

He shrugged, “Well right now I want us to have dinner, it’s getting late and you haven’t eaten all day.” 

You sighed. “Then? When I want to leave, you’ll stop me?” 

Bucky was so very still. It was inhuman. Then again, he was not exactly just a regular guy. “If I wanted you trapped here you would have woken up tied to the bed, doll.” 

“So I can walk away from here if I want?” You asked. No. That would be too easy. Wouldn’t it? 

“You could.” 

Another trap, you figured. For the first time since this absurd evening started, you straightened your back and faced Bucky with a little less fear, and embarrassment. “You won’t win, Bucky. Not like this.” 

He gave you a handsome, smug grin and said, “We’ll talk about all that later. Now, do what you need to do, freshen up,” He pointed at the door in the corner of the bedroom, the bathroom you assumed, “And join me for dinner downstairs.” He leaned in and too casually kissed your forehead. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.” 

And he left. Leaving you even more confused than when you didn’t have any answers. 

You thought about it as you reluctantly made your way into the bathroom which was just as dark and luxurious as the rest of the bedroom. Dark green walls, a large white and gold tub, mouldings on the ceiling matching the bedroom, large gilded mirrors and sinks. A spacious shower booth, with fancy faucets and shower heads. 

You checked the many cabinets and found everything one could need. The skin care products looked inviting but first of all, you needed a hot shower. You grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe and some body wash products and stepped into the booth. 

Then you spent your time thinking about everything. What did you know as of now? That Bucky owned this place, it was his home. That Bucky was done fighting, he had plans to say ‘fuck it all’ and retire. That he liked you back? Fine, he did. He wanted you to stay here with him? And never fight again? That was a whole other thing you had to worry about. But first, how to get out of here? 

Also how did Bucky afford this place? Had he always been filthy rich? 

What was the endgame here? And if he managed to keep you here, would any of your friends come looking for you? No one even knew where you were, that’s how much you trusted Bucky. The moment he brought this fake mission up you agreed to come with him immediately. Alright, your little crush had had an influence on your decision making but still. 

Could you trust Bucky now? It felt foolish to admit, but yes. Yes you could. Bucky would never hurt you. 

So you got out of the shower, with more questions and made your way back to the room and found neatly folded clothes on the bed. Soft, comfy, casual clothes. You put them on and took a deep breath before you stepped out of the room. 

As you made your way down one of the two ornate staircases, you hoped you’d find Bucky again somewhere down here. Meanwhile you couldn’t help but admire his home. It was… hauntingly beautiful. It was more dark than lit. Rich colours: dark green, dark red, black. Gilded picture frames along the hallways, large foyer, high ceilings, carved designs on almost all the furniture. Everything screamed luxury, expensive taste, old money, and like a home out of another era. An older era. 

You couldn’t see any of the housekeepers, but you soon found Bucky sitting at the head of a ridiculously fancy dining table in the dining room. 

“There you are,” He said, placing his wine glass down, “I was beginning to think you must be trying to get away.” He teased. 

You rolled your eyes and then quickly took in the room. Just as spacious as the rest of the house. A fireplace in a corner, tall arched windows, dark red curtains which allowed just the briefest amount of moonlight to come in. The room was well lit, and you couldn’t miss the grand chandelier above the adorned table and chairs. 

Sitting at the head of that table, Bucky reminded you of a bored prince – surrounded by unexplainable luxury which suited him too well. 

You took a seat at the other end of the table, facing Bucky fully. He noted your tactic and smirked. Then you said, “I didn't know you were rich.” Because surely super soldiers aren’t getting paid this much. 

He shrugged like it was no big deal, “I’m over a century old, doll. I would be an absolute idiot if I didn’t amass a fortune that could last me a couple more lifetimes.” 

You also noted the way he used your own words against you, but kept quiet. “Right. But how exactly?” 

He explained. “A lot of the people I was asked to... get rid of for HYDRA were influential people. Rich, wealthy, borderline royalty. And they would always try to bribe me just to be spared. They offered me everything I wanted if I let them go.” 

He sighed, almost in annoyance of the memories. 

He continued, “I couldn't let them go of course, but they always revealed all their secrets during their last moments.” His stare was distant. “And after the job was done, whatever they left behind, whatever they offered, locations of their hidden wealth and riches, it was all mine for the taking.” He added, “And since I was a good little machine, HYDRA never looked too deep into what I did as long as I got the job done.” 

Everytime Bucky opened up about his past, you realised that there was so much about him that you didn’t know. “That’s a lot of secrets.” 

“Indeed.” 

“And this manor? It’s one of the secrets left behind by someone you got rid of as well?” 

“No,” He said, “This was built from the ground up. Decades ago.” 

Decades. Again, another reminder of how many lives he had lived in the past century. It was almost fascinating. You opened your mouth to ask another question, but the door behind Bucky – which you hadn’t noticed earlier – opened and in walked two ladies with full trays in their hands. One of the trays filled with food, including a glass of wine, was brought over to you. 

You eyed the tray for a moment before you sent a questioning glare at Bucky. 

“What? Is it a surprise that I know what you like?” There was that smug grin again on his handsome face. 

Hunger won over confusion and anger, so you took a bite out of some food before you asked, “How did you put up such a good façade? For so long?” Hiding all of this couldn’t have been easy, right? 

“I didn't.” He answered. “I thought a broken soldier was what I needed to be, all I could ever be.” He smiled, “Then I met you and for the first time, I craved a simpler life. One where we could have nothing but time to do what we wanted, and no longer have to partake in fights that aren't ours.” 

You genuinely wanted to know, so you asked softly, “Is this truly what you want, Buck? To sit here and say to hell with the world outside?” 

“Isn’t it peaceful?” He questioned, “No meetings, or briefings. No country out to get us, no enemies out to kill us.” 

You remained quiet. For a little while, you both ate in silence. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on each one of your movements. He kept quiet though, and then you asked, “Why is no one out to get you? Given who you are and who you used to be, one would assume you’d have the most enemies out there.” 

“I have friends in all the right places.” He answered. 

You frowned. “What does that mean?” 

He smirked, “Now, I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” He said as he stood up, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I have some things I need to do, you’ll find your way back to your room?” 

You nodded, though suspicious at the sudden freedom. 

He whispered a quick ‘good night’ and left. Which made you frown in confusion because why would he leave you here? When you could easily walk out? Was he expecting you to try and escape? Was he hoping you would? 

You got up from the table, and carefully walked out of the dining room, stepping into the hallway. You didn’t take the time to admire the scones on the walls, the paintings, anything. All you saw was the foyer and beyond which was the grand entrance of the manor. 

Even from the inside you could see the foggy air outside. The fog swirling around like smoke. It looked cold out. Even if you made a run for it, you would be sick and frozen by morning. 

You stood there for a moment, steps away from the foyer. There were no cameras, that was the first thing you looked for in the house. None of the housekeepers could be seen, you realised they made themselves scarce. 

You should’ve taken the staircase and gone back up to the bedroom. Maybe you’d question Bucky tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he’d listen. But the front doors looked tempting. And that part of your brain which always went seeking trouble, the part that always pushed you into doing bold things, that part made you move towards the doors. 

Chances were that Bucky was watching, and you almost wanted him to see. To see that you couldn’t be kept here. So you went for it. You waited for some kind of alarm to go off as you turned the door knob and pulled open the door, stepping a foot out and then the other. But no alarm came. 

The fog messed with your vision, you couldn’t see further than the white marble steps. It was cold and you had no extra layers on. This was stupid. And yet, you took a few more steps down the marble stairs which led to what you assumed would be the front yard. 

You were about five steps down before you stopped. There was the silhouette of a male figure standing at the bottom of the stairs, engulfed by the fog. The moonlight made him look like a dark villain. Yet the shiny metal arm gave him away. “I thought you said I could walk away.” You tested the waters. 

“I did say you could.” He took a step up the stairs, “I didn’t say I would let you get too far.” 

You scoffed, trying your hardest to hide how you shivered in the cold night. The fog was all around you by now. All you could see was the faint outline of Bucky and the white stairs. 

“Get back inside,” He ordered. “It’s cold out.” 

“I won’t let you make a prisoner out of me.” 

“That’s not my goal here.” He sounded reassuring. 

“Then let me go.” 

“You know I can’t do that, doll.” He took another step, getting closer. You could tell by his stance that he was ready for it, should you want to fight your way out of here. 

And you did. You went for it. 

First a punch, then a kick. It was hard to keep your balance on marble stairs, but you did your best, just like when you two used to spar while training. 

You gave it your all, you tried your hardest to get him off his feet and on the ground and possibly make a run for it, but he anticipated each punch, each kick. You put up a decent fight for a few minutes, grunting at each failed punch and kick. 

“I don’t want to hurt you!” He growled, blocking yet another one of your punches. 

You didn’t stop, you kept trying until it hurt. Until he managed to have you pinned to the ground, your back hurting against the marble stairs, metal hand around your throat, his muscular body straddling yours right there on the cool marble stairs, the edge of the steps digging into your skin, making you hiss in pain. 

“Let go!” You spat bitterly at him, looking up and finding him glaring down at you. His breath fogged against the cold air. 

Bucky chuckled. “You forgot you trained you, doll? Hmm? You forgot who taught you everything you know about combat?” Bucky smirked as he leaned down. His face was directly above yours, his nose touching yours. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to walk away all hard after sparring with you?” He leaned just a little closer so his mouth hovered over yours. “It turned you on too, didn’t it? I could smell it then. And I can smell it now.” 

That did it. You managed to find enough energy to push him off of you, you were on him the moment his body hit the marble floor, straddling him and pinning him to the ground by the throat just like he did you. You could tell the edges of the stairs were digging into his back too by the way he hissed. But you didn’t let go.

“Enough.” You tightened your grip around his throat. “I won’t play this little game with you.” You breathed heavily, exhausted by now, “You want to stay here and pretend to be some tortured, gothic lord of the manor? Fine! Go ahead. But let me go.” 

“You don’t want to go.” He whispered, confidently. He just laid there, under you. Arms limp by his sides even though you knew too well that he could flip you around at any moment he wanted. 

“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?” 

He smirked. It annoyed you how handsome he was. “I know. If you so desperately wanted to get out of here then by now you would’ve used the knife you snuck into your pocket from the dinner table.” He chuckled. “Can’t do it, can you?” 

Damn him. And here you thought you were being slick. You didn’t realise his hands had moved, no longer limp on his sides but now on your legs, fingers reaching for the crease of your thighs, rubbing your skin through the thin PJ pants you wore. 

You gasped when his metal hand found its way between your parted legs, caressing you through the layers of clothing you wore. “Don’t you see?” He said, cold fingers moving along your waistband, “I’m doing this for us.” His fingers slipped into your pants, making you gasp even louder as you felt him touching you. 

Your face burned as you thought about how many times you’d dreamt of this moment. How many times had you pretended it was his hand touching you. But it was never in these circumstances. Never had you thought it would happen on marble stairs, surrounded by dense fog, in some mysterious manor. 

“Bucky,” You whispered, feeling his fingers slowly separating your wet folds, inspecting your slit before he slid one, then a second metal finger into you. 

“Yes, baby?” His other hand wandered all over your body as you straddled him, reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced the shape of your mouth while his two metal fingers slid so perfectly in and out of you, making you ride his fingers just briefly to chase the feeling of them against you. “Doesn’t it feel good? Hmm?” He thrust his fingers deeper into you, his metal thumb gently rubbing your clit, “Does it feel better than your fantasies?” 

Damn him. 

You couldn’t help but grind against his hand, wanting more and more. You didn’t care about anything right now, all that mattered was how good it felt. How much, much better than your fantasies it was. But you wouldn’t tell him all that. 

He didn’t need to be told. He could see it. The way you moved your hips, the way you bit your lower lip to hold back your moans and whimpers, the way you clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, doll.” He whispered, feeling your grip loosen around his throat. “Come all over my fingers like a good girl.” 

You hated how quickly you came, grinding against his hand and riding his fingers like a desperate woman. The cold, the fog, your knees digging into the hard marble, none of it mattered as you came, panting and trying your hardest to catch your breath. 

“We should head back inside,” He said, catching you just in time as you were about to collapse on top of the stairs, cradling you carefully. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.” 

—

Two days later, Bucky asked you during breakfast if you wanted to see the walled garden. 

The two of you hadn’t talked much these past two days. You only saw Bucky at meal times, and kept to yourself mostly. The weather had been mostly rainy as well, even thunderstorms at night. It suited the foggy environment really well. 

Neither you nor Bucky brought up that night you two fucked. You crossed paths with him these past two days in the dining room, the hallways, and the main living room, but you didn’t say a word to each other. It was painfully awkward. 

You didn’t hate what happened. You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand him, nor this situation. None of it. How can Bucky just switch like that? How did he manage to hide all this? What else could he be hiding? 

And this morning, now that the rain had temporarily disappeared and a soft sun was shining, when he offered to show you around the walled garden, it felt like he was extending a peaceful hand. So you agreed immediately. You could use some fresh air. Plus, you figured, you and Bucky would have to talk at some point. 

So by mid-morning, you followed him out into the yard. The walled garden was closeby, and it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. It was huge. The landscaping was incredible, you could tell a lot of care went into it. 

This is...," You couldn’t come up with the right words. 

There was a pond in the middle. The four stone walls were covered with vines and the tiniest little flowers. The entrance was a moon gate, the entire thing was filled with brick pathways, a small section was dedicated to herbs, but most of the space was occupied by well trimmed hedges and bushes. 

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He looked around, as if trying to see what it looks like from the eyes of someone seeing it for the first time. "I spend a lot of my time here." He sounded so calm as he said it. Like it brought him genuine happiness. 

"It's so peaceful here." 

You could hear the birds in the nearby trees. You could feel the breeze. The sweet smell of the flowers and slightly stronger scent of the herbs. The cool, damp ground while the smell of the rain lingered. The lush green vines surrounding the walls of the garden. It was more peaceful than it was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Its owner looked no less breathtaking. Dressed in simple dark trousers and a dark green sweater, he looked every bit the master of these grounds. He looked so different now, compared to the Bucky you used to know. 

"We should talk, Buck." You looked down, playing with the fabric of your soft sweater. 

"Yes," He agreed. "You've been ignoring me." He accused. 

You couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stepped closer. “Not ignoring you, I just… it’s hard to understand you, Bucky.” You explained. “One moment you were someone I knew for years, a constant in my life and now you’re… I don’t know this new you.” 

He remained quiet, listening. 

You continued. “Plus you talk about us living here like it was the plan all along.” 

“Wasn’t it?” He said, clenching his jaw then unclenching it. You hated how much you liked that. “Finding peace and a home. Wasn’t that the end goal? Or did you plan to sacrifice yourself in combat?” 

“Our job is to fight, Buck. We–” 

“Who said that?” He argued. “Haven’t we fought enough? Haven’t we given enough?” 

You sighed, looking away at the pond like it would have some answers. Then you said, “We can’t just live out here, away from everyone, leave the world to burn and pretend that this isn’t selfish, Buck.” 

Bucky shrugged, “Why? Nobody batted an eye when Stark did it.” 

“It was different for him.” You said, taking a few steps to reach the nearest rose bush. It had no flowers but you admired it all the same. “He had a family, a kid. He was a married man.” 

Bucky scoffed, “That’s it? That’s what it’ll take, then? I can marry you and give you a child.” He sounded partially playful. And it made you roll your eyes. 

“Shut up, Buck.” 

He chuckled. For a moment it sounded like the many bickerings you two always had as friends. For a moment all of this felt normal, comfortable. 

But it couldn’t be, could it? 

“You’re gonna have to let me go at some point.” 

“No.” He answered, sounding sure of himself as he pulled you into his arms. “I won’t let you go back and fight till it kills you. All so you can protect a world or its people who won’t even care that you died for them.” 

“That’s not your choice to make.” You looked up at him, unable to help yourself as you looked down at his soft lips, wondering what they tasted like. 

“It is.” He argued, leaning in so his mouth brushed against yours. “We could live normal lives, away from all that. Just you and me. We could travel, see whatever little beauty is left in this world. And just be free. Be us.” 

You pushed him away even though all you wanted was to be close to him. “And then what?” You asked, “We’ll be together forever? I have a couple more decades at best. I’m human, remember that.” 

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and said, “You could change that.” 

You frowned. “What does that mean?” 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next. “I have vials of the serum used on me. Not all of it was destroyed over the years.” He sent a curious look your way. “Maybe if you–,” 

You shook your head, rushing past him and almost running back into the house. “You’re insane, Bucky Barnes!” 

Bucky ran after you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I didn’t mean right now!” 

“No!” You stopped and turned to face him, pointing a finger at his face. “After all that you told me the other night, about being trapped in an alien body and all, now you suggest that you’ll have me take the serum just so you can live out this sick, twisted fantasy you created of us in your head?” 

Bucky stepped closer to you, reaching out with his metal arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m saying you’d have the choice. I would never force you. And you know that.” 

You were quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you stared into his deep blue eyes. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the stress of these past few days and this conversation you two had just had, but your eyes burned as you began tearing up. “What happened to you, Buck?” Your voice cracked as you asked. 

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You felt his face getting closer and closer until he pressed his forehead against yours, both his arms circling around you. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I… I don’t know how to keep you close to me.” 

You didn’t say anything. You just let him hold you, while you felt that inner turmoil growing. 

— 

You ignored Bucky again for the next week or so. You stopped showing up to join him for meals, so he resorted to having your food sent up to your room for you. In that week of silent treatment, you’d began talking to the lovely ladies who worked in his home. 

The oldest of the two was the most affectionate, and she always brought you extra servings of your favourite desserts. Which you had been ignoring. 

One night as she brought your dinner in she said, “He hasn’t been eating well either, you know?” 

You pretended you didn’t care. So you didn’t say anything. 

The kind lady spoke again, “He’s not bad at heart.” 

You couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you known him?” 

She smiled fondly, “Decades. I came looking for work when the house was being built. I’m from the nearby town, you see? And my family… Well, they disowned me after I had a child out of wedlock. I had nowhere to go. But James took me in.” She chuckled, “Of course, I’ve grown old since.” 

But he remained the same. 

She continued, “He’s always been kind. A little cold, maybe. But he’s kind.” She paused and added, “And he’s lonely. He’s trapped, you see? In a world he should’ve never been in. Companionship, perhaps, would make this a little more bearable for him.” 

“It’s not so easy to give up what he’s asking me to. He’s asking me to give up everything, to leave it all behind.” Granted there wasn’t much to leave in the first place. You had no family, and the only friends you had were the ones you fought alongside with. 

She carefully reached out and touched your cheek. The warmth of her hand made you smile faintly. “We all make sacrifices for love, don’t we?” 

You sighed, “I think he’s hurt, and confused.” 

She laughed quietly, “Oh James is many things, confused isn’t one of them.” 

You frowned. “Do you not see that he’s wrong?” You sounded unsure of yourself for a moment there. 

“For choosing to live his life how he wants to? For wanting a better life for you? No.” 

Fine then. “What about how he’s keeping me here?” 

She smiled again. “You know, he always talks about you since the day you two first met years ago. And he always told me how brilliant you were, how strong and brave you were in combat. How well you did in training and how easily you took down men twice the size of you.” She smiled proudly, even though she’d just met you. “And you know what I think?” She paused, “I think if you really wanted to leave, you would’ve fought your way out of here already.” Then before she left your bedroom she added, “Don’t underestimate how much that man loves you.” 

You didn’t sleep all night because you kept replaying that conversation in your head. Over and over again. Were you here, truly, on your own volition after all? Did you subconsciously want this over the violence? 

— 

The next morning, Bucky was surprised to find you making your way into his library. He watched quietly how you paused at the doorway, wide-eyed and startled. 

“You have a library.” 

It sounded less awe-struck and more like an accusation. Like how dare he have a whole ass library and not show it to you earlier? Bucky saw a glimpse of the normal you, and he couldn’t help but smile. This was a gift after a whole week of you ignoring him and him pretending like he wasn’t walking around sulking. “Did you lose your way or did you mean to ruin your streak of giving me the silent treatment?” 

He smirked when you glared at him. 

Damn, his smirk. The way it lit up his handsome face… it had been too long since you’d come. And given he had admitted to having heard you masturbate before, you didn’t dare do it under his own roof. So it was safe to say that you were, maybe, just a little touch-starved and needy. 

And him looking this good early in the morning was not helping. Tight black t-shirt, and soft, grey PJ pants. How dare he look this good while you were barely able to make sense of all that was happening? 

“We should talk. Properly. No fighting, no arguing.” You said. 

Bucky nodded, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. “What about?” 

You took a deep breath, “I think I know why I haven’t fought my way out of here yet. Because let’s face it, I could kick your ass if I really wanted to.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

You took a few steps around the room, eyeing the many shelves. It was a grand, two-level library. With ornate metal stairs that led to the top level. It would take a couple of lifetimes to read all the books here. Or maybe just one long super soldier lifetime. 

“Because I’m curious.” You admitted. “You were simply my friend before. But–” 

He added pompously, “One you have a crush on.” 

You ignored that, for now. “But now you’re… someone I don’t know. It’s hard to– it feels different. You feel different. And I can’t help it, but I want to know more. About this life you’re choosing to live. How is it so easy for you to make that choice without any guilt? I want to know.” 

Bucky took a moment to process, then asked, “Are you giving me a chance?” 

“I’m tired of being angry at you for kidnapping me.” You said, sighing. He opened his mouth to argue but you raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t agree with the way you did things, how you’re keeping me here, but I… I miss you, Buck. I miss us.” 

Well, since you were having an honest conversation, Bucky felt comfortable to ask, “Do you still like me?” There was a rare vulnerability in his tone. 

You allowed yourself to take a step closer to the shelf he was leaning against. Inching closer to him you murmured, “I would’ve stabbed you that very first night if I didn’t.” 

He smiled. You smiled back. 

—

Things were gradually getting back to normal after that. Well, about as normal as things can get when you’re forbidden from leaving the grounds of your friend’s manor. 

You’d missed your usual morning runs, so you resumed going on runs in the mornings. The grounds were more vast than you thought, it took you days to finally map out the entire place. All except the maze. You always ran by it, or around it, never daring to go inside it. Not yet. 

After your runs, and a quick shower, you’d always join Bucky for breakfast. Over time, you learned so much about him and the life he had here. It wasn’t just this magnificent home he owned, but numerous farms and multiple businesses in the small town nearby. 

Your ‘relationship’ with him changed as well. While the two of you didn’t have sex again, the tension was beginning to get too much to ignore. Quick kisses in the mornings, and lingering kisses at night. Oftentimes you were tempted to ask Bucky to spend the night with you, but you thought it’d be best to wait. After all, this was all so new. 

For the first time in years, you were actually contemplating leaving the ‘superhero’ duties behind and choosing yourself. It was hard not to constantly taste the guilt whenever you found yourself so close to giving into Bucky, and choosing what he was offering. 

—

“Do you really have the serum?” 

You asked one morning, while the two of you chose to have breakfast in the library. It was a rainy morning, and the library had massive windows so Bucky suggested you spend the morning there, knowing how much you liked it when it rained. 

You agreed. Who would say no to breakfast, good books, and a rainy morning? 

Then you got curious, and asked about the serum. 

Bucky nodded. “I managed to get my hands on a few vials.” 

Your eyes widened. “A few? How the hell did you do that?” 

Bucky had a humourless smile on his face. “They tended to give me some freedom whenever I took part in their…more peculiar experiments.” 

You were quick to say, “We don’t have to talk about it if–,” 

He cut you off and explained nonetheless, “They were trying to see if they could create a new generation of super soldiers naturally.” 

You wanted so much to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Not out of pity, no. Just to remind him of how strong he is and how far he’s come. How he didn’t deserve all that he went through. 

“I had the chance, and I just took some of the vials and hid them out here.” 

“Can I ask why?” 

He kept that same humourless smile. “Out of desperation I guess. I secretly hoped that one day someone might want to be with me. And if needed, I could keep them with me for longer than their human life would naturally allow.” 

“Oh, Buck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself then. You stood up, walked around the small coffee table and sat on the arm of the sofa Bucky was currently sat on. Behind him, rain hit the window mercilessly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you. 

He leaned into the hug for a moment, before pulling onto his lap then properly hugging you. He shoved his face into your neck, just breathing. His arms around you were not letting you go anytime soon. 

“I need you.” He murmured against your neck, beginning to lightly kiss your skin. “Please,” He whispered. 

The desire in his voice couldn’t go unnoticed, and you were barely able to hold back either so you quickly straddled him properly. Thankfully the dress you’d chosen for today allowed you to move comfortably. 

Bucky hands were eager, touching you everywhere he could, greedy for more. He grabbed you by the hips and pressed you down, onto his prominent erection. He watched how you whimpered, how your hands found themselves under the tight fabric of his shirt, pressing against his chest, feeling him.

Bucky smirked when he felt your hands moving down his chest, further down until you were rapidly undoing his pants and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, then you went on to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “Fuck, that feels good, baby. That’s it, keep going.” 

You leaned in close to him again, “I want you,” you whispered against his lips and then pressed your mouth to his. You slipped your tongue past his lips and slowly stroked the top of his mouth, unable to pretend any longer. 

He growled into your mouth, into the kiss as his hands rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “Take me then. I’m all yours.” 

You didn’t waste any more time. You pulled away from the kiss briefly, lifting your lower body off his. Bucky helped by pulling your thin underwear to the side – both too impatient to properly take your clothes off – and he watched how you slowly lowered yourself down on his cock. 

Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside, but then he pulled you down till you sank down on him completely, both of you moaning at the feeling. 

Bucky grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up and you moaned wantonly as you felt him fill you up. “Fuck, baby… such a good girl for me.” 

You whimpered as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places you never knew existed. You took a good look at the man beneath you. He was beyond beautiful. Lips parted, breathing heavily. It gave you a warm rush to see him this worked up knowing you were the reason why. 

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His metal hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. 

“This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” He groaned, looking up to watch how you frowned in pleasure. “All for me…”  

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “You feel so good,” You mumbled. 

Bucky pulled your warm body closer to his. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock. “You’re mine.” He said. “You hear me?” 

You nodded, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his eyes. Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Tell me you’re mine to fuck, to love, and care for. Tell me.” 

“All yours…” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him. 

You laid your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, as you thought of a lot of things. The main one being, you didn’t hate this at all. You wouldn’t mind if this was your daily life. Maybe it was the post-sex brain but, this felt so right and you didn’t ever want to leave this moment. 

—

It was hard keeping your hands to yourselves for the following days. You and Bucky began sleeping in the same bed. 

On days when the weather was good, Bucky would take you out and show you around the little town. It was cosy and perfect, and had the best bakeries in the world. Then he would take you to the many farms he owned, and you saw genuine happiness on his face. Like this calm life was indeed all he wanted. 

And time just flew by. You no longer kept track of days. 

One evening, Bucky asked, “Have you been in the maze yet?” 

You linked your elbow to his as the two of you made your way downstairs, and said, “Not yet. It looks… I don’t know, intimidating. And it’s huge, I worry I’ll get lost.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Want me to take you?” 

“Right now? But it’s getting dark.” 

“Come,” He led you to the front door, crossing the foyer, “It’s prettier at night anyway.” 

It was dark out, but there were golden lights placed all around the tall hedge maze. It wasn’t too lit up but just enough to create the right ambiance and allow one to roam around comfortably. It was colder inside, you realised as you held onto Bucky’s hand and let him guide you deeper and deeper inside. 

The fog was beginning to float around, settling just above the ground the deeper you went inside the maze. You shivered, despite the coat Bucky insisted you wore before stepping out of the house. 

“Don’t be scared, baby.” Bucky reassured you as he wrapped his arm tighter around you. “I’m right here.” 

The maze wasn’t creepy by any means. Like everything else on these grounds, it was hauntingly beautiful. Timeless. Like it knows too much, like it was alive and it remembered. It was inviting, even as you went deeper and deeper until you reached the middle. And faced the gigantic water fountain, in the middle of which, placed on a stone pedestal was the minotaur statue. 

It felt alive too. Like he was waiting for a command to move. 

The middle area was spacious, tidy and beautiful. With alcoves, benches, bird feeders, and brick pathways. And in the dark, with fog swirling around, it looked like a scene from a movie. 

Bucky stood back and let you take it all in. He watched how you slowly walked around the fountain, admiring the intricate details, admiring the statue. 

Then you asked, “Why the minotaur?” You stopped at the other side of the fountain, watching Bucky through the soft streams of water that fell. 

Bucky smiled. “For dramatics, mostly. I like the myth.” 

You chuckled. “I see.” 

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets and asked, “You ever wonder what truly happened to the maidens that were sent into the minotaur’s maze?” 

“They were never seen again. He either ate or killed them according to the myths.” You answered. 

He nodded, “Or maybe he didn’t hurt them. Maybe they just never wanted to leave.” 

Ah. So he was speaking in riddles again. “Like how you don’t want me to ever leave?” 

“You won’t.” He sounded too sure, yet again. 

“You sound very sure.” You watched him carefully. 

Bucky smiled, “You forget that I know you, doll. Better than you know yourself.” He paused, then added, “You find comfort in the darkness too.” 

“Comfort?” 

Bucky remained on the other side of the fountain as he spoke, the fog swirling around him almost like he ordered it to. “You think I don’t know you have trouble sleeping? That the nightmares bother you too? Of all the missions we’ve been on, the people we’ve had to kill for some greater good? Cities we demolished? Houses and families we tore apart? All in the name of being altruistic heroes?” 

Suddenly you had trouble breathing. 

Bucky continued, this time walking around the fountain and slowly getting closer to you, “That’s why you like running, isn’t it? You pretend you’re running from it all. You pretend you’re free. That you can finally escape it all and put an end to it. You run till your legs get numb, till your lungs burn. Till each breath hurts. So it can finally feel like well-deserved punishment.” 

“Stop.” You audibly gasped for air this time, as your eyes began watering. You no longer felt the cold. No longer felt the dampness of the fog. Nothing, but the ache in your chest. 

“I’ve been there, doll. No matter what you do, it doesn’t go away. The guilt doesn’t go away. Not until you stop and walk away from that life.” 

“Bucky, please…” You turned around, not able to face him anymore as the tears fell down your cheeks. You heard him getting closer. You felt his warmth against your back as he placed his arms around you, pulling you in. 

“Maybe that’s why the maidens never left the maze.” He said. “Maybe they realised that his darkness was better than the cruel world who reduced their pure hearts and souls to being mere sacrifices.” 

The night had gotten colder somehow. The wind had picked up, like it was about to rain. The fog clinging to the hedges was thicker now. 

“Stay with me.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s chaos out there. Stay here with me.” 

You sniffled quietly. “I’m scared, Buck.” 

The rain came then. Light drizzle, then slowly getting heavier. Bucky pulled you to the nearest alcove and kept you safe and warm between the stone wall and his muscular body, sheltering you from the rain. 

“I’m here.” He reassured you. 

“I’m scared.” You repeated, holding onto him like he was the only thing you’d ever hold. 

Bucky pressed his lips against your forehead, “I know, baby. I know.” He murmured. “But I see you. You'll never have to pretend with me. I know you’re tired, of fighting, of being good and getting nothing in return. It’s okay to stop, baby. We’ll never have to fight or kill again.” He sounded hopeful. “We’ll be happy here.” So hopeful, and pure that it hurt. “I’m here, doll. It’s okay.” 

You couldn’t help but kiss him. Bucky kissed you back ferociously, like he’d held back all those times before, but now he no longer could. His hands wandered, pulling your dress up quickly as he knelt in front of you before you could even process it. 

He pressed his lips to your inner thighs, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers lowered your underwear down to your ankles. You stepped out of it as his mouth got closer and closer to your dripping core. 

“Bucky…” You sighed, as you felt his breath against your wet folds. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft hair, as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you squirm in pleasure, your back digging into the stone wall of the alcove. 

His tongue slid up and down your folds, teasing your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. “So fucking good,” He whispered, hands caressing and groping your thighs as he ate you out. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit. 

He parted your legs further as he slowly brought a metal finger up to your clit, watching it sliding agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his cold touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a metal finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. “Please…” You begged, wanting more.

Lips brushing against your wetness he asked, “Will you promise to stay here with me? Forever?” He growled as you kept whining and squirming under his addicting touch, “Answer me.” 

“Yes…” You whispered, breathless and wanting. “Yes, I will.” You moaned. 

He smirked against your wet skin before standing back up, enjoying the way you whined in protest. “You’re mine.” He said. 

You whined again, “Bucky, please…”

He chuckled and undid his pants before picking you up and kissing you deeply as he pinned you to the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock briefly brushed against your wet folds, making you shiver at the brief contact. 

You couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Moaning into the kiss you said, “Bucky please,” You begged, “I need you. I need you… please.” You whispered. 

Bucky kissed down your neck, peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you. His fingers digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours holding on to his shoulders as he filled you up nicely. 

“This is all you wanted? Hmm?” He groaned, moving just the slightest bit. “You’re so perfect, baby.” 

He held you up against him as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You’ll always be mine.” He growled, “And we’ll be happy forever here.” 

Behind him, just beyond the shelter of the alcove, the rain was getting heavier. Louder. But with your heartbeats echoing in your ears you could barely focus on it. 

You whined just a little louder this time and his mouth soon found yours again. He nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths as he kept fucking into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls perfectly. 

Bucky nibbled on the skin under your ear and you lost it. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was his body and his cock inside of you. 

You whimpered, “Can I please come?” 

“Go on, baby.” He mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “Come all over my cock,” He spoke, fucking you harder and deeper. 

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you and it was hard to even think coherently.

He quickened his pace, whispering, “Mine… ” in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the stone wall with each thrust.

You could hear the sounds of your skin slapping against each other over the heavy rain. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, now pounding into you mercilessly.

“Come for me, doll.” 

You couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, whining and whimpering. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck and a strained moan escaping your mouth as you came hard. More tears streaming down your face. 

He came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning into your ear when he felt your walls clenching violently around him. 

He didn’t pull out immediately. He just kept his cock carefully buried in you. He relished your warmth and leaned in to kiss you again, passionately, much more gentle than before. “I’ve got you,” He murmured. “You’re safe with me.”

The epiphany of it all made you unable to stand on your two feet for too long. You briefly remembered Bucky carrying you all the way out of the maze, into the house and up the stairs. 

You fully came back to your own body only after Bucky had submerged you in a warm bath. With him seated behind you and caressing your spent body. 

“Are you okay, doll?” 

You nodded, sitting with your back to his chest. “I’m okay.” You whispered.

Bucky’s hand rubbed your back in a soothing way that had you sighing in bliss. Then he said, “I’ll take you somewhere nice tomorrow.” 

You smiled with your eyes closed, leaning into his touch. “Where?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“How many more secrets have you kept from me?” 

He chuckled. “Enough that it would take you a lifetime to uncover them all.” 

“You have a lot of faith in the durability of this relationship.” You teased. 

“Hmm, I do.” He sighed as he left soft kisses all over the side of your face. Outside the rain was getting harsh and loud again. But here, everything was warm and perfect. “You can’t run from me.” He teased. 

Couldn’t you? You sighed. Did you even want to anymore?

Maybe you would end up finding comfort in the darkness with him. In the familiarity of his arms. In the warmth of his touch and smiles. Hell, maybe you’d be willing to take the serum one day. But all that for later, being here was all that mattered right now. 

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, back pressing against his chest as you let him hold you. 

A lifetime… yeah that didn’t sound too bad. 

Bucky kissed your forehead as you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Safe, satisfied, and in his arms. He often dreamed of this. He kissed your forehead again as he smiled. He knew what you must be thinking about. He could almost hear it. 

He knew you were having a slight hard time accepting all this, choosing it. The guilt would go away in time. He would do whatever it takes to help you adjust to your new life. And everything would be perfect then. 

There was a small voice in his head that told him that he shouldn’t ignore the possibility that this could be a ruse. That you were playing along, trying to earn his trust, waiting for him to have his guard down so you could run from here. 

Bucky smirked as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his arms firm around you as you both soaked in the last few moments of the warm water before it got cold. 

He wasn’t stupid, and you were a very smart woman, so of course he’d thought about that possibility. And though he knew the chances of this being true were very slim, he couldn’t just sit and wait. Could he? That’s why he took all the precautions he could beforehand. 

He made sure, even if you were to leave him and run back to what used to be your ‘normal’ lives, that there was nothing left for you to go back to.

There was no one left. Another secret of his, tucked away. 

But he would always be here for you. Bucky turned his head and kissed your forehead again. He vowed to love you enough that, like the maidens in the myths, you’d never want to leave his maze either. 

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings where he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ.

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, doll.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hair line.

Did he just?

Is he going to?

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, baby.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, reaching the bedroom door and flinging it open with him hot on your tail.

Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor and you rush down the hall towards the staircase, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

He braces his palms on the bed, preparing to climb up and pin you but you scramble backwards off the bed and take off again. He pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what-?” he straightens up and turns, watching as you sprint across the room and he frowns, realizing you weren’t going to let him catch you that easily.

“Damnit.” He grumbles, launching himself up over the bed.

He chases you with heavy footsteps towards the bathroom and you rush to shut the door but his hand catches it and forces it open, leaving you completely cornered with nowhere else to turn. “Shit.” You breathe out, looking around for a possible way out. He laughs, a cute and genuine laugh that is just so Bucky, completely betraying the role he was attempting to play.

You cross your arms over your bare breasts and frown. “I’m sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I- just.. why did you run into the bathroom?” He asks, gesturing around the small room with amusement. “I don’t know!” You huff, your lips pressing into a pout. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you definitely weren’t.” He agrees, swinging his foot back to kick the door shut behind him. “Guess you’re trapped, huh?”

You nod, letting your arms fall away from your breasts. “I guess I am.” You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the plush bath mat, barely able to steady yourself on all fours before he’s on your back, arm hooked around your waist and sinking his cock into your wet, throbbing cunt. You arch back into him, fingers digging into the bath mat and a choked gasp catches in your throat as he pulls you flush to his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. He snakes his free hand up your abdomen towards your chest, a trail of goosebumps following in his wake, dipping his forehead down to rest against the back of your shoulder. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky..” You whisper, your head falling back.

His forearm tightens around your waist and he releases your nipple with a gentle tug, sliding his hand up to curl around your throat. You moan and wiggle your hips, desperate for him to move, but he holds you still, lifting you up with him as he leans back on his heels.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispers, unhooking his arm from your waist and resting his large hand over the slight bulge in your abdomen. “That’s my cock.” He murmurs, squeezing your throat gently before grasping your jaw and tilting your chin down to look at how he’s stretching you. You whimper and he moves your hand to press down on the bulge of his cock in your belly. “And this is my pussy.” He growls, delivering a slap to your aching clit before he draws his hips back and begins to thrust himself up into you at a steady pace.

A string of soft curses falls from your lips and your head drops back against the crook of his neck, your hand leaving your abdomen and reaching backwards to fist in his hair. “I didn’t realize you were such a freak, baby.” He whispers, his hand tightening around your throat. “I shoulda thumbed through one of your little books sooner.”

His free hand kneads at the flesh of your thigh and he groans, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks up into you. “I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his slick fingers to your clit. You gasp, your fingers curling around his wrist as he strokes your sensitive bud, pulling you closer towards your impending orgasm.

“You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through your body. You choke out a strangled cry as you come, your legs trembling and back arching against him as your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward to the floor and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold tile as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you even thought possible.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the floor, dragging back and forth across the tile from the force at which he’s fucking into you. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently.

He pulls out abruptly, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back, moving to straddle your chest while he frantically fucks his fist. He comes with a shout, gasping as he paints your face with ropes of hot, sticky cum. “Fuck.” He pants, looking down at you in admiration as he brushes his thumb along your cheek, gathering up his seed.

He pinches your flushed, sticky cheeks together with his free hand. “Open.” He says softly, slipping his thumb into your mouth when you do. You suckle his thumb, greedily cleaning it with a swirl of your tongue, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. He sighs contentedly before moving off you and rising to stand, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And I had just showered.” You mumble as you take the hand he offers you and pull yourself up on wobbly knees. “Don’t you dare bitch about the water bill when it comes.” You tease.

He chuckles softly and pulls you into him, holding you against his chest with one strong arm while the other reaches out to test the temperature of the water. “I won’t.” He says, stepping in first and gently helping you in after him. He wraps his arms lovingly around you and rests his chin atop your head as the warm water cascades over you both.

“Let’s clean you up, doll. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what’re these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.

His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

"Something tells me you aren't here to soak in the sun," Sharon says with a quirked brow.

Getting up your feet, you wipe the sand off the back of your legs while smiling at her. "You've always had a killer instinct, Carter," You reply coyly. "Enjoying your vacation?"

"As much as it probably doesn't look like it, we have been working tirelessly for a damn invite," She tells you with a huff. "The only way in is to be a plus-one, but most of the attendees are spoken for."

"Delaney's single, isn't he?" You point out with a frown.

Sharon and Jenn share a look before the former snorts. "You think you have a chance with Delaney?" Sharon asks you incredulously. "No offense, Y/N, but I'm not sure you've thought this through. You're pretty and all, but there's no way Delaney will be interested in you. The guy's a billionaire."

"Yeah?" You retort, your ego throbbing while you hold back your smirk. "Well, he was at the Fogana Beach Club last night, and coincidentally, so was I. He seemed interested then - found me interesting enough to invite me to the gala, anyway."

"You're lying," Jenn mutters, shaking her head.

You simply shrug, giving her a wink as you say, "Whether or not you believe it is irrelevant, Agent Curson. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to buy a new dress."

Sharon narrows her eyes, looking you up and down before turning Jenn. "Come on. There are a couple of guys who work with Delaney's son in the bar; let's see if we can get them to take us as their plus-ones," She says before they begin to make their way to the bar further down the beach.

Bucky's got his hands on his hips as he raises a brow at you. "So, you managed to get the coveted invite," He begins. "I'm not surprised. Delaney can probably tell what a slut you are; knows better than to fumble the opportunity to use you."

"Actually, it was nothing to do with me," You counter, taking a step closer to him. "I might have made some claims to him about... you."

Bucky frowns, confused. "Me?"

You let out a sigh, slightly nervous about how he's about to react to your news but deciding there's no choice but to be upfront about it. "I told Delaney I... own you. That the infamous Winter Soldier is under my control, and he does whatever I ask, whenever I ask."

An unreadable expression blossoms in his face as his eyes flicker with a darkness. You're concerned that he's angry - or worse, hurt that you've used his deepest trauma as a tactic. But Bucky never fails to surprise you. His lips curl up. "Seriously?" He asks you. "You told him I'm your sex slave?"

Holding back a laugh, you shrug. "It was all I could come up with in the moment. He was incredibly interested and extended an invite... on the basis that you'd come with me," You tell him.

Bucky closes the gap between you, placing his hands on your hips as his semi-hard boner covered only by his swimming trunks presses against your stomach. To any onlookers, you seem like a happy couple on vacation, sharing a sweet moment by the sea. Bucky cups your cheeks in his hands and leans down, making your stomach flip.

"Did you tell him how good I fuck you?" He asks lowly. "Promise him he'd get to watch?"

You swallow thickly, trying to keep your composure. "Is that a problem?" You wonder.

His lips brush against yours. "No problem at all, ma'am. After all, I'm under your control, aren't I? I do whatever you say, whenever you say," He says bluntly. "The Winter Soldier is at your service."

The both of you know it's fucked up. You know how much work it took for him to learn how to live with the trauma of what he went through, and he knows the regret and guilt are permanent scars he'll never get rid of. But this relationship has been fucked up from the beginning, so what difference does one step lower make? Bucky can't help but admit to himself how hard it makes him, turning his darkest trauma into fuel for kinky sex, and you're the only one who could coax that side out of him. It feels good - he feels a new sense of control over himself and his past.

"Well," You begin with a sly smile as you trail a finger down his bare chest. "Aren't you a good boy?"

His heart skips a beat and he gulps, blinking a few times. Fuck, he thinks to himself. You're gonna be the death of me.

It's odd for Bucky to have his hands on you in public, but you can't deny that it feels natural. It's even more odd that Sharon and Jenn can see his arm around your waist, but you told them Delaney was under the impression you and Bucky are a couple so there's nothing they can say. Of course, Jenn shoots you a knowing glare every so often, but what the fuck does she matter?

"This dress is gorgeous on you, by the way," Bucky mumbles as he looks you up and down, taking in the way the silver slip gown drapes on your body. "Somehow makes your ass look even more fuckable."

You raise a brow, taking a sip of champagne before replying. "If you think I'm letting you anywhere near my ass, you got another thing coming," You tell him firmly.

He chuckles, pulling you closer and grazing his lips against your neck. "Whatever you say, rookie," He grumbles. "How long until I'm inside you?"

Spotting Delaney who looks to be making his over, you smile and wave. "Not too long, now," You utter lowly.

"I'm glad you could make it," Delaney says with a grin as he takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it before he turns his gaze to Bucky. "Ah. This must be him. A fine specimen, indeed."

"He owes it all to the serum," You say teasingly, patting Bucky's hard chest. "That stuff does wonders to every part of the human body. Every part."

Delaney quirks a brow while Bucky's hand squeezes your waist. He remains silent, playing the part of dutiful servant well. "I have to say, I'm awfully intrigued," Delaney says, looking Bucky up and down before turning to you. "Might you wish to spend your evening somewhere a little more comfortable? Parties can get awful loud."

Catching his drift, you nod, and Delaney gives you a satisfied smile before leading you and Bucky away from the crowd and up two floors. Bucky's grip around your waist tightens as you're taken into a dark bedroom. Though you could tell Delaney was a freak, you didn't think he'd be this open about his voyeuristic desires.

"Please, make yourself at home," Delaney says as he remains by the door, a knowing glint in his eye. "You have my number, should you need anything." With that, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

"We should look for evidence of his business dealings," Bucky says as soon as the door shuts, looking around the room. "I doubt there's anything in here, but we-"

"Bucky, listen to me," You cut him off in a rushed tone and move closer to him, lowering your voice to a whisper. "See that full-wall mirror? It's one-way. Any second now, if he isn't there already, Delaney will be behind it, ready for a show. I thought he was freaky enough to stay in the room, maybe even get involved, but I guess he likes the thrill of pretending we don't know he's watching."

Taken aback, Bucky raises a brow. "You were being serious about that?"

"I never joke about sex," You say gravely. "Now, listen to me: he sees you as a machine. You need to fuck me like one."

Bucky feels his pants tighten.

"I mean rough, Bucky, like you're an animal," You continue. "A mechanical animal. Do you understand me?"

He nods.

"Nothing sensual - no kissing, no talking me through it; you're a human fuck-machine," You tell him sternly, admittedly enjoying telling him what to do.

Bucky isn't sure what he's done to deserve this, but he knows he can't do anything to fuck it up. "I'm a human fuck-machine," He repeats obediently.

"Good boy," You reply. "You sure you're okay with this?"

He lets out a sound that's somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "I am more than okay with this," He assures you.

Conscious that this room is likely hooked with multiple microphones, and maybe even cameras, you decide it's time to get into character. It isn't every day that you'd consent to being watched while getting railed, but taking down Delaney would be a huge boost in your profile, and might even be enough to win you another promotion. Commander is a much sexier title than Special Agent.

The look in your eyes as you move closer to Bucky tells him that it's go time. He looks down at you, keeping his hands at his sides and waiting for your command. Closing the gap between your bodies, you trail your hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders, squeezing them gently. "I've missed you, Soldier," You say lowly, slowly crawling your fingers up his neck to where they cup his face. "Nobody fucks me as good as you."

You've never seen him like this before. His face is blank, his eyes void of emotion. It almost feels like he really has become the Winter Soldier again, the notion both exciting and scaring you. His cold eyes stare down at you, waiting for your next move.

"Want you to take me, right here," You say, brushing your lips against his. "I command you, Soldier. Fuck me 'til I cum."

He gives you an almost unnoticeable nod before placing his hands under each of your thighs and lifting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. It takes him three steps to get close enough to the bed to throw you onto it, discombobulating you for a second as your head hits the mattress. You see the concern flash in his eyes before it deepens, and you know what he's thinking - what if he hurts you? You asked if he was okay with this, but he didn't check to see if you were - he stands at the foot of the bed, conflicted.

You sit up and allow your dress to slip off of your shoulders before it pools into a lump of material on the ground. Unsure as to how you can assure him, you get up on your knees and look up at him. "Kiss me, Soldier," You say, already breaking one of your rules.

Bucky keeps his face blank and moves closer before grabbing you by the throat and pulling you up to his level. He crashes his lips onto yours, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours. For a second, you forget where you are and lean in to enjoy the kiss, but you have a mission to get through. You tap his chest, hoping there are no cameras that can pick up your hand movements, waiting for his eyes to flicker open before you start signing to him. It's a skill Steve thought would be useful on missions for the team to have, and you're glad he did.

Don't worry, I'm a big girl, You sign subtly, hoping he can understand your quick movements. Do it like you hate me.

He gives you a slight nod before pushing you back onto the bed. Climbing onto you, he all but rips off your bra and underwear, making you yelp in surprise. You can tell it's killing him not to talk dirty to you while he manhandles you into doggy position, but he's doing well to keep up the facade.

"Show off that perfect body," You utter as you stare up at him.

Bucky removes his jacket and shirt before he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants. You marvel at his beauty; his perfectly sculpted abs and the way his metal arm instills both fear and lust in you. He takes hold of his heavy cock, hesitating before bringing it to your heat. It isn't until he sees just how much your pussy is dripping that he realizes how hard you're getting off on this - and that drives him crazy. Oh, you wanna get fucked by a machine? So be it, baby.

Without warning, he plunges his full length into you, making you cry out. He's been on enough missions with you and fucked you enough by now to know which of your noises mean you're in pain, and which mean you're in pleasure, so without further ado, he takes tight grip of your hips and starts fucking you hard and fast.

"Oh, shit," You whine, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets beneath you. "Just like that, Soldier, fuck."

The bedframe shakes with each of his thrusts. Bucky throws his head back, swallowing his groans as your pussy throbs around him. He's never experienced anything like this before - fucking someone in character - but it adds a whole other dimension of fun. A small part of his mind genuinely feels as though he's the Winter Soldier again; like he's mindless, with no thoughts or opinions, just a server of your demands. But this time, it doesn't come with the pit of guilt or regret - he feels in control of himself. The second he wants to, he can snap back to himself, and that knowledge appeases him.

"I wanna see you, Soldier," You manage to get out weakly. It's hot getting slammed into the bed by him, but you can only imagine it being hotter when you get to see the look on his face as he does it.

Bucky pulls his cock out of you, spins you around and pushes you flat onto the bed. He grabs your ankles and rests them on his shoulders, allowing him to get deeper into you as he pushes his length back into you.

Mean, You sign to him in your daze. More.

As he begins fucking you again, Bucky harshly grabs you by the chin. His other hand moves up to squeeze and pull on your nipple, making you moan louder. He thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he stretches you out.

"Soldier," You whimper, finding his vibranium hand. "I don't wanna breathe."

Bucky's eyes darken. Fuck. Slowly, he brings the cold hand up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it. Gradually, his grip gets tighter and tighter, until you can't breathe in any air. He fucks you while your eyes roll back, the pleasure intensifying for a few blissful moments before you decide you really should breathe again.

Quickly, you tap his hand, and he loosens his grip. The fact that you had to tell him to stop only makes it feel all the more real - like he really is the Winter Soldier again, and if you hadn't stopped him, he could easily kill you. He feels your cunt flutter around him, and he knows you might even be enjoying this more than he is, if that's possible.

"Again," You whisper once your breathing has regulated again.

Bucky leans over you, his forehead almost resting against yours as he tightens his grip on your neck once more. The excitement buzzes through your body as you feel your head getting light, once again tapping his hand when you've had enough. His cock continues to tunnel in and out of you, making your stomach flip. Bucky lifts you off the bed and onto his lap, fucking up into you. His hand finds your throat again, his soft grip enough to make your pussy clench around him.

"Don't stop, Soldier," You whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Not until you cum," He replies stoically, his dark eyes burning into you.

"I'm close," You tell him, whining when he throws you onto your side, plunging his cock back into you. At this angle, he can thrust faster and harder, snapping his hips as he forces your orgasm out.

"Cum," He can't help but mutter in your ear, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Cum, now."

With a loud cry, you feel yourself spiral into a whirlwind of pleasure. For a few seconds, your mind is blank, and all you can comprehend is the physical. Bucky shudders as you tighten around him, milking his cock of his cum as he spills it into you. He crowds you with his body, wrapping his arms around you, keeping his cock buried in you as the two of you catch your breaths.

His lips find your ear, nipping at your lobe before he whispers, "That machine-like enough for you?"

A weak laugh leaves your mouth. "Decent," You respond.

He slowly pulls out of you, making you wince. Just as he gets up, the door opens, making your heart skip a beat. You glance over to see Delaney. He walks into the room, and Bucky moves in front of you, still stark naked.

Delaney looks him up and down before saying, "I came to clean her up."

Damn. So he is a freak who wants to get involved.

"No," Bucky utters bluntly, making you frown. If you're gonna get close enough to Delaney to find out all his dark secrets, you have to make him happy, no matter what. When you became a SHIELD agent, you knew you'd be giving your entire life to your job - including your body. The fact that Delaney is a handsome man definitely helps you swallow that bitter pill.

"Soldier," You mumble warningly, standing up behind him.

Bucky stands his ground, keeping his eyes on Delaney. "No," He repeats gravely.

Is he seriously gonna let his toxic masculinity possessiveness fuck this whole mission up?

"The pet is very protective of its owner," Delaney comments, an unreadable look on his face. "Very well. I do hope the two of you will rejoin the party. I wouldn't want you to miss the incredible dessert we have coming out soon."

"Of course," You reply, well aware that you and Bucky are still completely naked. Delaney doesn't seem to mind. With a smile, he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. You wait a few seconds before walking over to Bucky. "What's your problem? You could've fucked the whole operation up!"

Bucky shrugs his shoulders casually. "I've just fucked you harder than I ever have before," He says bluntly. "I'm not about to let him try and do the same."

You narrow your eyes. "What does it have to do-"

"I don't give a fuck if you have to fuck someone for information," He cuts you off curtly, walking closer to you. "I have the same job as you. I know exactly what we have to do sometimes. If we hadn't just done what we did, I'd happily let him take you, rookie, I know you can handle it. But I'm not letting you put yourself through that after I've just railed you."

You scoff at his faux concern, knowing its likely just his toxic masculinity preventing him from letting another man fuck you so soon after him. But sure, he cares about your wellbeing.

"I feel fine," You say, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's fucked you so good you can barely stand up straight.

Bucky smirks, moving closer to you and squeezing your shoulders. "C'mon. Let's go get dessert; I need sugar," He says before grabbing his clothes off the ground.

"You destroyed my underwear," You whine, looking at the tatters your bra and panties are in. "I have to go commando and braless for the rest of the night."

He pouts while zipping up his pants. "Aw, that sucks," He says flatly. "It's gonna be far too easy to finger you under the table. I prefer a challenge."

With an eye roll, you throw your ripped panties at him and he expertly catches them before winking at you and stuffing them in his pocket. "Thanks for that. Jerk-off material for the plane ride back," He says teasingly while you slip on your dress.

"Who says you'll need it?" You ask with a raised brow. As he buttons his shirt back up, he gives you a confused look. You step into your heels before walking past him and saying, "Y'know, I'm yet to join the Mile High Club."

A scoff leaves his mouth. "What; with Jenn and Sharon in the plane with us?" He asks, his eyes wide as his mind races.

You shrug, backing up towards the door. "Unless you're too scared, Soldier," You tease, tilting your head.

He meets you at the door, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. "Challenge accepted, rookie."

bucky masterlist

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You swallow too before reaching out and wiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb, absentmindedly bringing it to your own mouth and licking it clean without a second thought.

As it's only a small table, Bucky's sitting next to you, which makes it easier for him to place his hand on your knee while you continue to feed him. It's only your third date, but you already feel comfortable around him. It isn't often that you meet someone on a dating app as hot and sweet as Bucky. You're still waiting to spot a red flag, but they're all coming up green.

"You wanna go for a walk after this?" He suggests, letting you take the last bite. "There's a path nearby, nice and quiet."

"Are you planning on killing me?" You ask teasingly, placing the fork down on the empty plate.

Bucky chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I am," He replies before making eye contact with the server who comes over.

"All done?" She asks brightly.

"Yes, thank you," Bucky replies. "Could I get the bill, please?"

She nods and takes the plate away, leaving you to glare at him. "We're splitting it this time," You declare sternly.

"Are we?" He asks with a raised brow, reaching into his pocket to pull out his black leather wallet.

"You paid the last two times," You remind him.

"It's gonna be like, ten dollars," He points out, giving you a flat look.

"So then, let me pay," You counter stubbornly.

"Here you go!" The server announces, placing the bill on the table. "I hope you enjoyed your food."

"It was really good," You tell her with a smile while fumbling in your purse. By the time you've got your phone ready, Bucky's already swiping his card, having added a big tip for the server. Hot.

"Thank you so much," She says. "Enjoy the rest of your day!"

You narrow your eyes at him once she's gone, but he only laughs. "I'm not gonna let you pay for a date I've asked you on, sesame," He tells you, the nickname a callback to when you were left with sesame seeds all over your lips after the dessert you ate on your first date. How you managed to secure a second date with him, you'll never know.

"In that case," You say as the both of you stand up. "I'm asking you on the next date."

"Oh, yeah?" He challenges as you swings open the door to the small cafe and lets you walk out first. "Not if I do, first."

Your eyes widen as he follows you out and you quickly turn to face him. "Will you-"

"Do you wanna go watch that new horror film you've been talking about this Friday?" He cuts in, a smug look on his face.

Damn it. He knows you can't say no to that. "I'd love to," You reply honestly, before a mischievous smirk pulls at your lips. "Do you want to go for dinner at the Red Velvet after the movie?"

Bucky takes your hand and begins leading you down the street, a focused look on his face as he tries to win this game. "Would you prefer to go to that brisket place we walked past last week?" He counters.

Your mouth waters just at the memory of the smells that came from that place. He's good, but you can't give in. "Sushi?" You suggest. "I know you love that Dragonfly place."

The look on his face makes you think you've finally got him - but he has one more trick up his sleeve. "How about," He begins, a knowing look in his eye, "We watch the movie, and then I take you back to my place where I can cook dinner for you?"

Your stomach flips at his proposal and you know you can't say no to that. He hasn't mentioned that he cooks yet, but even if he's a terrible chef, the thought of him putting in that effort for you makes you swoon. "That sounds perfect," You say, hating how weak you are, causing him to shoot you a satisfied wink.

The pathway he takes you on is admittedly very pretty. You walk by a quiet canal, and though in any other situation you'd be terrified to be alone in a place like this with a man you met online a few weeks ago, you feel safe with Bucky.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" He asks. The two of you have stopped by a big rock on which water is cascading down, and though the view is pretty, he's prettier.

"Just making you sure you aren't about to kill me," You say as he places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer, making you bite your lip.

"You look like you want something," He utters lowly. "What do you want, sesame?"

Your first kiss was at the end of your second date three days ago. He walked you home and gave you a goodnight peck at the door; completely different to what you're used to. Because he's such a gentleman, you're finding it hard to be open about what you want.

"Talk to me," He urges you gently, moving one hand up to cup your face. He knows what you want; he just wants you to say it. Maybe he isn't such a gentleman, after all.

Swallowing your pride, you lift up your chin and meet his eyes. "I want you to kiss me," You admit quietly, moving closer until your chest is pressed against his.

Part of him wants to continue teasing you, but he can't hold back any longer, especially not when he can feel your boobs against his ribs. Your dates have been a lot more reserved than he's used to, but that's because he wants to do this right with you - you make him feel a way nobody ever has before, so he wants to be a gentleman. But you're making that incredibly difficult. Without wasting any more time, he brings his lips down to yours in a soft kiss. Well, it's soft for all of three seconds. You wrap your arms around his neck and part your lips, allowing for your tongue to stroke his.

His hands squeeze your hips, and you place yours on top of his before moving them down to your ass, moaning as he grabs it. You let out a whimper and clutch fistfuls of his t-shirt. "Buck," You whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand what it is you need.

Pulling away from the kiss, he keeps your body close to his. "What do you say we cut this walk short and head back to my place?" He suggests, no hint of teasing in his tone - this is serious. Fuck being a gentleman.

A grabby, gropey Uber ride later, you arrive at his apartment building. It's fancy; the kind with a big square courtyard with bushes and healthy looking flowers, and you begin to realize why he's always so happy to pay for everything. It isn't until the elevator ride that you notice how much you miss having his lips on yours.

"Hey," You begin, nudging his shoulder before you lean back against the mirror. "Will you kiss me again?"

He's on you before you finish the sentence. Thankfully, he lives on the 22nd floor, so there's enough time for a rushed make-out session until the doors open. Bucky's hands are back on your ass which he squeezes in his palms, knowing that it's what makes those pretty whimpers leave your mouth.

"Bucky, I'm so wet," You whisper, craning your neck back as your heart races. "Please touch me."

You're not sure what's gotten into you - sure, you usually don't wait until the third date to hook up, but public intimacy has never been in your remit. Granted, you're in an otherwise empty elevator, but there's likely CCTV cameras with some very excited security guards watching your every move.

Bucky doesn't take orders lightly - he's a giver by nature, so when he hears you begging him to put his hands on you, he can't refuse. He slips a hand between your thighs, skirting it up your dress, feeling your soft, bare skin beneath his palm. With his forehead resting against yours, Bucky begins to rub your pussy through your soaked panties. His fingers move quick, and that combined with how attracted to him you are makes it easy for you to get close to finishing.

A string of quiet moans leave your mouth, and Bucky takes the opportunity to stick his tongue past your parted lips. Your thighs clamp around his hand but he continues rubbing your clit, while you tug on his hair.

"Bucky, I'm-" Just as you feel your climax begin to approach, a ding sounds out.

"Floor 22. Doors opening."

He stops his movements, pulling his hand out from between your legs, much to your chagrin. Laughing at the pout on your lips, he takes your hand and leads you out into the hallway.

This is definitely the fanciest apartment building you've been in, and you haven't even seen his place yet. The floors look to be have been cleaned as recently as this morning, with fresh flowers in vase fixtures on the walls. Bucky takes you into his apartment, and you're even more taken aback.

It's large, with full-length windows on one wall giving you a view of the New York skyline. The thought of what the rent must be almost makes your eyes water. Looking around, you take in the surroundings. He's good at decorating - or he paid someone well to do so for him - and he's tidy. You look at the back wall which has a few certifications and awards on them which takes you by surprise.

"When you said you work in finance, I admittedly blocked out the rest of your sentence," You admit, turning to look at him. "I didn't realize you were a CFO!"

"You ignored me?" He asks with faux shock, placing a hand on his chest as he walks over to you. "I opened up to you about my life and you blocked it out?"

"I have a certain image of you, and finance bro is not it," You admit with a laugh. "I didn't wanna ruin the image."

"What image?" Bucky wonders, taking one of your hands and bringing it up to his cheek.

"You're a little sweetheart," You mumble, moving closer to him. "I want it to stay that way."

"I can be your little finance sweetheart," He says, snorting as the sentence leaves his mouth.

"Something tells me that's not what you make your employees call you," You say with a smirk.

"I don't have employees, I have a team," Bucky corrects you, licking his lips as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. "But that's enough about work. How about I finish what I started, hmm?"

The conversation escapes your mind, which you find is suddenly blank. Nodding up at him, you rest your hands on his chest. "I like that idea."

Without warning, he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, making you squeal. He takes you into his bedroom, your heart racing as he gently throws you onto his bed. Immediately, you kick off your shoes, not wanting to dirty his clean sheets.

He joins you on the mattress with a small grin, getting on top of you and marrying his lips to yours again. You can't remember the last time kissing someone was this good, and you quickly realize just how much you want him.

"Bucky," You mumble, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Take it off." Admittedly, the shirtless picture on his dating profile has been on your mind since you matched with him, and you need to see it in person. And feel it.

He happily obliges, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it to the side. You make a mental note to steal it from him later. "I'm feeling left out," Bucky says with a smirk before he starts unbuttoning your shirt dress. You sit up, allowing him to pull it away from your body, leaving you there in your underwear. He looks you up and down, unable to hide the look of hunger in his eyes. Fuck. You're perfect.

"I need to tell you something," You begin coyly, resting your palms on the bed as you subconsciously stick your chest out.

"Oh?" He whispers, eyes still glued to your body. "What is it?"

Biting your lip, you lower your voice, finding yourself almost nervous. Get a grip. This isn't your first rodeo. "I, uh, my nipples are... super sensitive," You say, feeling your cheeks heat up as the sentence leaves your mouth.

Bucky's eyebrow flickers up on its own accord. "Right," He replies almost inaudibly. "Does that mean I should avoid touching them, or-"

"Absolutely not," You cut him off instantly. "The opposite."

His face relaxes, before his eyes glint with excitement. He tentatively places his hands on your hips, before slowly snaking them up your back while you keep your eyes firmly on his. Expertly, he unhooks your bra, and you wonder whether he's lucky or just well-practiced. Once your bra's off, his eyes sink down to your boobs, the cool air making your nipples harden.

"Fuck," He whispers under his breath, his dick impossibly hard. "You're so fucking sexy."

Your thighs squeeze together as you watch him watching you, dark lust clouding his face. "What are you waiting for?" You ask him lowly.

"I don't know," He mumbles, brows furrowing together. "Just... enjoying the view."

"As sweet as that is," You say with a soft laugh, "How about you stop being such a tease and touch them?"

His hand slides up your side, making you shiver. He grabs one of your boobs in his hand, looking up at your face as his thumb grazes over your nipple. Immediately, you suck in a sharp breath, lips parting and hips starting to grind against the bed.

"You weren't kidding about them being sensitive," He whispers.

"Bucky," You whine, allowing your back to hit the bed. "Please."

He follows you down, taking a boob in each hand but steering clear of your nipples. "What do you want, sesame?" He asks you with a small smirk pulling at his lips.

Sick of his teasing, you place one hand on the back of his head and use your other hand to grab his cheeks, causing his mouth to pucker as you push his face into your chest. Bucky thinks he's died and reached heaven. His lips wrap around your nipple as he sucks, making your eyes roll back. Muffled groans leave his mouth and he gently starts to rut against you, his hard cock rubbing against you.

"Don't stop," You whimper, feeling the familiar build up in your core. "Please, don't stop, Bucky."

He switches from one boob to the other, using his hand to pull and twist on your neglected nipple. You feel your stomach tighten and your breaths become quick and shallow. His tongue swirls around your nipple before be grazes his teeth on it, gently biting down when he hears your sharp gasp.

"I'm- Bucky, I'm cumming," You say with a hushed urgency. "I'm- oh, fuck."

When you finally come to, stomach fluttering, you look back up at him, deciding you don't like how smug he looks while you're a mess. Grabbing his shoulders, you push him down onto his back and straddle him, thankful that he's letting you manhandle him.

It isn't the first time you've orgasmed solely through nipple play, but it's never been that quick before. You credit that to your attraction to Bucky, rather than letting yourself admit he could just be that skilled.

He moans against your tits, continue to hump you as your orgasm takes over. Pulling away from your nipple, Bucky looks down at you, taking in the sight of your afterglow. Pure pleasure coats your skin with a soft sheen of sweat, shaky breaths escaping your mouth as your chest heaves. Cupping your face, Bucky takes a mental image, realizing just how gorgeous you actually are.

"You're wearing way too many clothes, sweetheart," You utter as you fumble with his belt before pulling it off, his jeans swiftly following.

Bucky lies back with his hands behind his head and a lazy grin on his face, more than happy to let you undress him - until he realizes what underwear he's wearing.

"Is that... He-Man?" You ask, looking closely at his boxers. Sure enough, there's an image of the cartoon superhero right over where his dick is, with the words I Have The Power printed underneath.

His face drops as he glances down and he inwardly curses. Fuck. You've officially ruined your chance with the woman of your dreams. Well done, James.

"That is adorable," You laugh, shaking your head. "You have the power?"

"Someone gifted them to me as a joke," He tells you as his cheeks flush pink. "But they're unironically really comfortable."

You go to pull them down, but you're laughing too much to be able to concentrate. Having had enough of your teasing, Bucky grabs your hips and throws you down in the bed before getting on top of you.

"I don't appreciate you laughing at me," He says sternly, pinning your hands to the pillow above your head.

"Oh? What are you gonna do about it, He-Man?" You say coyly. "Use your power against me?"

He snorts, but keeps his face firm. "Watch yourself, sesame," He mumbles, looking you up and down as he lets go of one of your hands to pull down his amusing underwear. You do the same, pulling down your panties as your heart races, trying not to salivate at the sight of his dick while he takes out a condom from the bedside cabinet.

"Let me," You mumble, taking the packet he's already ripped open and pulling out the condom before slowly rolling it over his impressive cock, making him shudder as your fingers brush his shaft.

It's big. And thick.

"Shit," You whisper under your breath, your cunt pulsing at the thought of being stuffed by him. "Y'know... with a dick like that, you'd think you'd have shown it off with a nude or two by now."

Bucky chuckles while grabbing your ankles and placing them on his shoulders. "He's camera shy," He says slyly, rubbing his tip against your soaking pussy. "And I needed to find out if you deserved it or not, first."

"Oh, yeah?" You breathe out, trying to remain calm and cool and collected as he rubs against you. "Have I proven myself to you, yet?"

With his eyes on yours, dark and lustful, he brings his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes it in, stealing your breath. Bucky swallows thickly as he feels you tightly hugging his shaft, your cunt throbbing around him. He was planning to shoot some cocky comment your way about you deserving him, but his mind is completely wiped clean as he bottoms out inside you.

"Oh, fuck," He mumbles, resting his forehead against yours.

"Bucky," You cry, never having felt so full before. "Bucky, you're so big."

It isn't the first time he's heard that sentence, but coming from you makes it feel like it is. With his hands gripping your hips, he slowly begins thrusting in and out of you, grunts and groans leaving his mouth. His lips brush against yours. "Does that feel okay, baby?" He asks you lowly.

Your response is a loud moan that almost sounds like a yes. You bring your hands up to your boobs, pulling on your nipples. Waves of pleasure course through you, making shameless sounds leave your mouth.

Bucky watches as you play with your own tits, clenching his jaw as he wills himself not to cum this quickly. "Fuck, you're so hot," He groans, stroking your hips. Hold it back, James. Think of He-Man.

Knowing he'll last another three seconds maximum if he keeps watching you twist your nipples like that, he tactically decides to switch positions, moving you onto your hands and knees where he's safe from seeing any boobs. You let out a whine as he plunges his cock back into you, able to get deeper in this position. Your hands grab fistfuls of the sheets as you moan into the pillows.

With his hands on your hips, Bucky fucks you harder, watching as your ass bounces on him. He can't tell if this is making him closer to cumming than seeing your boobs was, but either way he knows he's in the danger zone.

Grunting, he pushes you down so you're lying flat on the bed and lies on top of you, burying his face in your neck where the smell of your vanilla perfume mixed with your sweat lingers. Fuck. Is there any position where he's safe?

"Baby," He begins, slowing down his thrusts. "I- I don't think I'm gonna last much longer." Usually, he'd never admit such a failure, but he can't help it. He doesn't want to disappoint you, and right now he feels like an inexperienced virgin again, shuddering at just the touch of a woman. Get a grip.

"It's okay," You whisper, turning your head to the side. "Just rub my clit, and play with my tits, and I'll be there, too."

God, you're perfect.

He happily obeys, snaking one of his hands between your legs while the other trails up to your chest. As soon as you feel him rub against your nipple, you feel a spark in your core, one that intensifies as his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing circles on it.

"Just like that," You cry as he fucks into you harder and faster. "Don't stop, Bucky, don't stop!"

"You want my cum, baby?" He whispers in your ear, keeping up his pace.

"Please," You whimper as your stomach flips.

"Then let go for me, baby," He orders. "Cum all over my cock."

His hushed words are enough to push you over the edge, and with a moan of his name, you feel the band snap. A flood of pleasure washes over you and your body shakes beneath him.

Bucky feels you tighten and squeeze around him and, finally, allows himself to finish. His cum fills the condom, his cock throbbing against your walls as he groans, continuing to thrust weakly. His breath hits your neck, his voice sending low vibrations through your skin as he utters in your ear, "That's a good girl."

Your heart skips a beat as you try to catch your breath, your hand finding his and intertwining with his fingers. He places gentle kisses on your neck, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth. The two of you slowly float down from your highs, while the sunlight streams in through the large window, warming your bare skin and reminding you that it's barely 3pm.

"Afternoon delight," You mumble weakly, causing Bucky to snort.

"I love that song," He says through a smile, chuckling softly.

He collapses on the bed next to you and the both of you stare up at the ceiling. "Yeah," He agrees. "Really good." Easily the best he's ever had, but he can't admit that to you this early on - he has to retain some level of composure around you, at least until you like him too much to dump him.

You slowly turn around while he discards the condom. Smiling down at you, Bucky scans your body, still in disbelief at how beautiful you are. "That was good," You say, nodding.

"I think that was the best I've ever had," You announce boldly, too fucked-out to care about how cool and mysterious you need to be in order to keep him interested.

Shocked, Bucky turns to face you, his eyes wide. "Uh, yeah," He stumbles. "Me too."

You snort and raise a brow. "That was believable," You comment dryly.

"No, I mean it," He insists, turning his body to you and wrapping his arm around you. "Seriously. I just didn't think it would sound... cool if I admitted it."

"Cool?" You repeat, smiling at him. "You don't need to be cool. You're my little finance sweetheart, remember?"

His cheeks are slightly pink but you don't know if that's from the sex or if he's genuinely shy. Moving closer to you, Bucky burrows his face in your neck. "Whatever you want me to be," He says, holding your body close to his. You're glad he's a cuddler, even more so that he's happy to be the big spoon.

"I know it's only three, but is it okay if I fall asleep?" You ask him with your eyes shut. Even if he says no, you doubt you'd have the energy to stay up right now.

"I'm already halfway there," He mumbles, giving your neck a final kiss before the two of you slowly fall into a peaceful slumber.

who wants to make bets on how long it'll take me to add drama to this

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bucky masterlist

Bucky seized your throat in one hand and tilted your chin to make sure you were capable of eye contact while he fucked you in front of the mirror. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that the face in his own reflection was bruised, bloodied, and sewn up like a patchwork quilt behind you.

Hazards of the job, he’d said.

Three masked assailants breaking into your villa the first night of honeymooning? Customary. Being yanked out of bed and made to kneel as your husband took the beating of a lifetime just minutes after consummating your marriage? More common than you would think.

Bucky hadn’t even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didn’t flinch when he was held to a wall and pummeled like a freestanding punch bag.

Almost smiled when he took a hard right hook to the nose and felt a torrent of blood flood out of his nostrils.

If anyone were to be accused of behaving too calmly in a home invasion, it would be Bucky Barnes. It seemed as though he’d seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadn’t so much as lifted a finger to fight back was still beyond your comprehension, though.

At length, he tightened his grip on your neck and tried to smile, his upper lip slashed in two and bruised a grim, violet hue.

“Who’s my girl?” he murmured an inch from your ear.

You whined when he delivered a particularly hard thrust, both of your hands flying to the mirror to steady yourself as he pounded you from behind.

“I-I am,” you whimpered.

The stretch was still something you were getting used to, but now Bucky knew just how to spread you open without making it hurt. He’d glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as you’d let him, rubbing quick circles while you bucked and moaned under his touch. And, in spite of all his cuts and bruises, your husband made sure to kiss your shoulder every now and then to let you know he still loved you—even if he was fucking you like he didn’t.

Bucky trailed his lips behind your ear and watched you writhe in time with every stroke he gave. Pressed his face close to yours, watched a desperate, fucked-out expression take over your features, and smiled to himself knowing that no one but him got to see you like this.

“Who likes getting stuffed full of this cock?” he taunted.

“I do.”

“Who loves making daddy feel this good?”

“I do.”

He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene way—his sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legs—but he loved it nonetheless.

Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like he’d never let go. Your climax was quickly coming close into view, and you felt your toes curl in the hardwood floor beneath them.

Suddenly, the chirp of a ringtone diverted your attention.

Bucky brought his phone to his ear as he continued to pound you mercilessly.

“Yeah, Steve?”

The mob boss’s business never took a break, it seemed.

“So what?”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

“Well, I’m plowing my wife right now, can it wait?”

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Bucky’s blunt choice of words. You saw his brow pinch behind you, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier, and in spite of the distraction, you sensed he was getting close too.

You yourself were right on the brink. Your gaze met Bucky’s in the mirror with a soft, pleading look, and before you knew it, your husband was bidding an abrupt farewell to his friend and chucking his phone to the side.

“Ready to cum for me, honey?”

You whimpered and nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, “Cum all over daddy’s cock.”

With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Bucky’s length, tears springing to your eyes as you closed them tight and moaned his name.

And, ever the cheeky fuck, Bucky leaned right in and kissed the sides of your face to collect all the moisture he could—‘Shit, honey, you taste as good as you look’—while he smirked. Would’ve grinned even bigger if he wasn’t so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldn’t keep from blowing his load just seconds after the last spasms of your orgasm. Bucky leaned over your torso and squeezed your body tight to his, fucking his cum deep inside you as far as it could possibly go.

For a few, dizzying moments, the man’s mind wandered to more primal thoughts of making it stick, knocking you up, and Bucky had to clench his jaw hard to suppress the groans that were threatening to spill through his teeth. Every time he fucked you, it was like something just clicked; he couldn’t rid the thought of giving you a baby.

But no, for now, the two of you were still on wedding time; before you could jet off to your real honeymoon destination—someplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctly—your mother had insisted that you host one post-wedding event that day: a brunch.

Naturally, that meant you were obliged to serve a four-course meal on the terrace of the Canaves Oia Hotel.

The mother of the bride had been one hell of a staunch advocate for keeping this wedding party going as long as possible, and who was Bucky to tell her no? He reasoned he would have plenty of time to get you pregnant after all the wedding festivities had ended, so he didn’t mind.

At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.

“I think you displaced my cervix, James.”

Bucky couldn’t deny he felt the smallest twinge of pride seeing you walk a little funny to collect the rest of your belongings and attempt to freshen up. It also gave him the perfect excuse to scoop you back up in his arms and pretend to be apologetic about your present dilemma.

“Did I really?” he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, “I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Like hell you are.”

With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, you’d barely made it two feet toward the door before you collapsed against a table and almost toppled a centerpiece. The pair of you would be expected outside any minute now, where the rest of your post-wedding party was likely trickling in and wondering where the hell the bride and groom had gone, but Bucky seemed adamant on keeping you to himself a little while longer.

That was until the back exit swung on its hinges and a familiar, frazzled groomsman stumbled in.

“Can you horndogs hurry the hell up?!”

So Sam had heard you after all.

You just might’ve blushed if you weren’t being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husband’s friend ringing low in your ears.

“Your old man’s ready to hit the roof,” he mumbled to Bucky, “Won’t start drinking until you two show face.”

“Probably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,” Bucky mused, flitting a look to you.

The man behind rolled his eyes and continued to usher you both outside. Sam Wilson knew exactly what had happened last night; he’d been the one to bring in the cavalry to save you both from imminent death, after all.

As you had come to find out, Sam wasn’t just a friend of your husband’s but also a close associate of sorts—the kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadn’t been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some ‘strange sounds’ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husband’s entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where they’d dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadn’t asked many questions after—just thanked him. Profusely.

“You look like hell,” the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friend’s direction.

“Really? I feel great,” Bucky replied.

The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoers—every single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husband’s mangled face as he passed—and you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell could’ve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.

“Ja-ames!” a sing-song voice trilled across the way.

You, Bucky, and Sam all stopped in your tracks to regard the duo that was making their swift approach over.

Bucky’s mom and dad.

As the older couple drew near, you half-expected to see them take on the same wan, horror-stricken look worn by all those around you, but to your surprise, they didn’t.

In fact, they didn’t bat an eyelid. Seeing their son’s face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.

“Good, you’re here! The photographers just arrived.” Bucky’s mother swept you into her arms for a brief embrace before shooting her son a frown. Your husband, in turn, offered her an apologetic peck on the cheek.

“Sorry, ma. We got caught up,” he said.

“Sure looks like it.”

That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.

“Get in a fight with a grizzly last night?” he quipped.

“Three, actually,” Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-ear—or as much as his facial lacerations would allow him.

You saw father and son exchange a brief, knowing look, before it was extinguished just as fast as it had come. Clearly, some sort of understanding had passed between them, and the old patriarch seemed pleased. Proud, even. You couldn’t begin to imagine why.

“The bruising shouldn’t be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,” Bucky’s mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.”

She spoke so coolly about the trauma done to her son it damn near chilled you to the bone. You never thought the wife of a mobster would be oblivious to all the violence, but to talk as though this were just another day in the life as far as brutal beatings went was a little unnerving.

You strolled along and silently wondered what the fuck was wrong with this family. Then you realized, slowly, that this was your family now. Your stomach twisted.

When you got to the garden where the photographers were stationed, you saw your parents waiting, enrapt.

And, in a matter of seconds, you watched their expressions morph from exuberance to confusion to outright trepidation. Your father was quick to look away, but your mother clearly couldn’t be bothered to stop ogling Bucky’s gruesome appearance. She forced a tight-lipped smile at the very last second and stretched her arms out to you as the five of you approached.

“You’re glowing, my dear.”

She hugged you and, over your shoulder, tried to mask a discomfited look.

Your mother and father exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group but seemed loath to linger on Bucky for more than a minute. Like they couldn’t quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.

“Places, people!”

The photographers were lined up like a flock of paparazzi. Each standing, crouching, squatting with their cameras in their hands, trying to get just the right angle.

The person in charge quickly busied herself with directing and adjusting every one of your positions before the pictures were taken. Telling Bucky’s father to straighten his tie, your mother to brighten her smile, the bride to tilt her shoulders just a little bit more, and Bucky, would you please stop groping your wife?

That last command had come from his mother, actually. Bucky had been palming your ass above your dress, and his mom couldn’t stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.

“My hand slipped,” Bucky retorted, much to the amusement of a few photographers.

You and his mother gave him identical admonitory looks, but it was you who was close enough to say something.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak, though, an odd sense stopped you on a dime.

There was a warmth. In your panties. Then a slow and silent oozing sensation. You squeezed your thighs tight together and, instinctively, lowered your hand to your stomach, as if that would have any chance of stopping it.

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.

“My cum dripping out already?” he whispered, low as he’d ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.

“Shut. Up.” You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.

“Chin to me, Mrs. Barnes,” the lady in charge called out.

You did as you were told, and Bucky’s hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.

A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.

“Think it’ll stay in your panties?” Bucky managed delicately under his breath.

You didn’t respond. At length, his seed was seeping out of your underwear. You bared an even brighter smile for the cameras and tried not to flinch when he squeezed you again.

“Feel it sliding down your thighs?”

“Eyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, and—here, please.”

The man could barely peel his gaze, much less his hands, from your body. He stroked your hip with his thumb. Then, without warning, that same hand slid down to your rear and pushed into the fabric. You sucked in a breath.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“Behave,” you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you could’ve sworn you saw your mother turn her head.

Unfortunately for you, your husband would do no such thing. He just moved his hand even lower down your back and brushed the space around that spot with the tips of his fingers. You felt a shiver pass over you, along with a whole legion of goosebumps spreading fast across the skin.

If you weren’t on camera and surrounded by family, you probably would’ve liked to smack him upside the head.

As the cameras continued to fire away, Bucky’s touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.

“Now just the bride and groom!”

The rest of your family members stepped to the side, and it was only you and Bucky before the cameras now. Still smiling like bright, shiny dolls and communicating like ventriloquists, your lips barely moved as you spoke.

“How ‘bout I push it back in?”

“Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Now kiss!”

At the direction of the lead photographer, you kissed your husband and felt a mixture of lust, hate, and love swell up inside of you. When you pulled apart, it was the latter of these three that was searing hot in your veins.

“I love you,” Bucky murmured with a grin.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashion—being pulled from place to place, person to person, while your filthy-minded husband kept whispering in your ear all the depraved things he was planning to do to you once he got you alone. It was romantic, in a way; just terrible for your poor panties.

You reluctantly mingled and laughed with some of the most boring people you thought you’d ever met in your life—though perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisal—and gradually, family and friends pulled you and Bucky further and further apart until you were just being carted around like show dogs and forced to hold the same conversation over and over again.

“You look stunning.”

“Buck’s a lucky guy, I’ll tell you that.”

“Are you planning on having kids any time soon?”

You just smiled, nodded, and didn’t have the guts to tell them that Bucky’s baby batter was baking inside you right now. That would’ve been a fun one to watch the reactions from your uptight, intrusive relatives, though.

And speaking of Bucky, where the fuck had he gone?

Just twenty minutes ago he’d sworn he would have you bent over one of the hotel balconies overlooking the Aegean Sea, and now he was nowhere to be found.

Your parents were currently preoccupied with their second helpings of spanakopita, your in-laws draining mojitos like water, and Sam, like Bucky, completely MIA. No one else had seen hide nor hair of your husband in a little while, and frankly, your legs were growing tired of looking.

You let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Bucky sitting a ways away on the terrace with Sam and Steve huddled on either side of him. They looked to be deep in discussion.

Steve, Stevie, Rogers, or, simply, your husband’s second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Bucky’s face.

You decided to let the three of them hash it out and to take a rain check on that balcony rendezvous for now.

At any rate, a pack of Pall Malls was calling your name.

You would fully concede this was a filthy habit you never should have started—like most fun things in life—but the reprieve of a nicotine buzz was too tempting to refuse. You grabbed your clutch and took off toward the far end of the lawn, set for a small alcove apart from the party.

You slipped the lighter and cigarettes from your bag as you walked. The scent of pure salt and sea foam greeted your senses as soon as you drew close to the spot—less than a stone’s throw away from the ocean.

Your hands had jammed the cancer stick in your mouth before your mind could make a single word of protest. You brought the lighter to life in your right palm and raised the flame to your cigarette until the end was lit.

Then you inhaled. Exhaled. Hoped no one would see you. You fanned the smoke from your face every so often.

You’d taken up residence on a bench just shy of the beach, and finally, you could stretch your legs and rest.

Maybe indulge in some disgusting thoughts about your husband while you were at it.

If you’d told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Bucky’s touch, you wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably would’ve told them they were full of shit. But here you were, splayed out on a bench by the shoreline thinking of nothing but the way your husband’s cock felt inside you. Feeling his seed dried on your thigh and aching for a fourth helping.

You felt pathetic. Maybe you were.

In any case, you didn’t really care.

You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When you’d plucked it back out, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky! Your lust-addled brain all but squealed.

You turned much quicker than you meant and nearly jumped in your skin to see who was standing there.

A grinning, bright-eyed blond.

In a panic, you flicked your cigarette over your shoulder and forced a smile.

“Hi.”

“Howdy.”

Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.

“No need to stop on my account,” he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, “I won’t snitch.”

His smile took on a shade of condescension, but the face seemed friendly enough. Then, to your surprise, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved something small and silver from it. He held it out to you.

“Courtesy of your husband,” he said.

You frowned. A flask?

“It’s not even noon,” you answered.

“Bucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it don’t seem they’re fixin’ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.”

Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.

“Fuckin’ A,” you coughed, “What’s this, nail polish remover?”

“Stolichnaya. Can’t talk shit until you’ve tried it.”

Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the man’s outstretched arm again—this time, to shake your hand.

“Joey, by the way.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.

“You’re a friend of my husband’s?” you asked.

“From the service, yeah. We go way back.”

You couldn’t help but raise both brows in question.

“The service,” you repeated.

“Russian Armed Forces,” Joey smiled.

And when the hell did Bucky plan on telling you he was a former foreign operative? You stared at the man before you in a medley of confusion and disbelief. Surely the thick Southern drawl had to mean he was joking.

“Sorry—I thought you knew,” he said sheepishly.

Your husband’s old comrade seemed genuinely contrite, blushing a shade of pink as he turned his gaze from you. You quickly regained your composure and flashed him a smile, insisting it was fine, just surprising to you is all.

“Perks of arranged marriage,” you said, “We’re wed for life and I don’t even know the guy’s job title.”

That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasn’t smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.

“You mind?”

“Not at all.”

You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When he’d taken a seat, you offered it to him, and he politely accepted.

With time, the two of you got to smoking and joking around with a little more ease. You didn’t normally get to see that happen—rarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangers—but this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Bucky’s old friend possibly do?

You found the man to be quick-witted and charming, if not marred by the slightest stain of conceit under the surface. He was objectively handsome: all cool, clean features with an unblemished demeanor and a set of brown eyes so light they almost appeared the color of honey in the sun. The only imperfection to be detected was a skewed, razor-thin scar on his chin. You weren’t ashamed to admit he might’ve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naïveté, earlier. But you had Bucky now; not even the most sublime, finely-chiseled Adonis could set your sights off of him.

You continued to smoke and shoot the shit.

“So you’re a Puritan, then?” Joey said at length.

“Huh?” You leaned back to stretch.

“You haven’t touched that flask.”

You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.

“Haven’t been into straight liquor since college,” you shrugged.

“But it’s your wedding weekend,” Joey smirked, “Think it says somewhere in the rule book you’ve gotta be hammered the whole time.”

“Does it? I must’ve missed that one,” you hummed.

Rather than answer you verbally, Bucky’s old friend opted to snag the flask from your fingers and unscrew the top himself. Made an unusually bold move and took your chin in his other hand.

“Open.”

“No!”

You bared a tight smile to be polite, but inside, you were more than a little put off by his behavior. Maybe this was some stupid rite of passage into their ‘brotherhood.’ You had to assume he was just being friendly.

“C’mon. Quit bitchin’ and open up,” he chuckled, pinching your face even tighter.

That left an even more sour taste in your mouth. You jerked your head to the left and were just about to inform the man it’d cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.

“Honey? Hon, you there?”

Immediate relief at hearing your husband’s voice.

You craned your neck to look around.

“I’m here, Bucky!” You waved an arm to try and get his attention, wherever he was.

It took him a second, but shortly, he appeared on the other side of some trees. He had a stern, if not slightly sallow, look on his face as he made his way over.

You turned back to Joey but found that he’d vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.

“Bucky, I just—”

“We need to go,” your husband cut in.

His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.

“Go wh—”

“Now, baby, please. I’ll tell you in the car.”

Your face dropped.

“We’re leaving?”

Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as you’d ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.

“Whole fuckin’ swarm of ‘em now,” he pronounced.

Bucky didn’t wait to hear another word. He just grabbed your hand and joined his friend sprinting back up the lawn. You could barely keep apace with their steps and, still clinging to Bucky, almost tripped and stumbled.

“Get the fuck up,” Steve spat.

You tensed. For a second, your feet scarcely moved of their own accord as you trailed behind Bucky and felt a stabbing feeling in your gut. Bucky’s best man had surely been a little rough around the edges before, but never this needlessly cruel. What did you do?

Your husband delivered an uncharacteristically gruff shove to the man’s shoulder and made sure he felt it.

“Don’t you start this shit again,” he said, “Lay off.”

Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotel’s perimeter. You glanced to the throngs of partygoers still scattered along the veranda and saw similar looks of disquiet and alarm all around.

Just when a dozen different questions of what was going on, where were they taking you, and why the fuck did everyone look so afraid bubbled to the tip of your tongue, a thunderous sound brought you to a standstill.

At the opposite end of the plaza, a cluster of tents, tables, and catering stations all splintered apart in a single, headlong explosion. A bright red column of fire shot up toward the sky, and following its ascent rose a wave of shrill and horrified screams alongside it. A barrage of gunfire rained over the crowd, and before you could even spare a look toward its source, Bucky yanked you flat on the ground. Your hands and knees were shredded across pavement, had less than a second to register the pain, and were shortly made to snake along concrete and glass toward the garden down below.

You crawled, then crouched, then bounded down the lawn following Bucky and Steve like a bat out of hell. Another explosion sounded nearby—this time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all over—and whole droves of people just dropped. Facedown in the grass and covered in glass. Bucky clamped your hand in his own with a force that could’ve snapped it in two, but you didn’t blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.

“Here!” Steve called presently.

He caught sight of a jet black sedan at the edge of the lawn and held a hand up to Bucky. A set of keys were promptly pelted into his grasp, and the three of you closed in on the car, quick, without another word.

Bucky tore the back door open and practically flung you inside. He primed himself to climb in right after, when a set of footsteps and a shout held him locked in place.

“Hangar’s clear.”

Sam, by the sound of it.

He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadn’t gotten the back door so much as halfway shut before the engine roared to life and the car lurched ahead. Not thinking, you grabbed hold of a seatbelt, but Bucky was quick to pull you in and jerk you down.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting then, but it certainly wasn’t your husband’s weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.

This wasn’t the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didn’t hold you tight in his arms or cradle your head to his chest. He just draped the weight of his whole body over yours and begged you strenuously not to move or make a sound. By the looks of it, too, the car was tearing up the turf of the lawn and anything else that happened to cross its path; there was no rhyme or reason to Steve’s driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.

Minutes, seconds, sights, and sounds—or what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered position—all bled together in a haze. Your pulse leapt and throbbed between your ears, and little more could be heard above that sound apart from the thrum of Bucky’s own heart, the thunder of gunfire, and the wail of sirens, coming low and faint and far too late to make much difference now.

You pressed your nose to the floor and got a dizzying whiff of nylon and bleach. Would’ve like to retch but gritted your teeth instead, lying in silence and wondering without humor if the splinters, the soot, or the blood would be hardest to wash out of your white satin dress.

The price of admission to board Bucky’s Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be ‘pregnant.’

You’d been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangar—a place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparently—and had been carried onto a jet. You didn’t squirm or protest, just hung limply in their arms and let them tend to you however they needed.

After all, you looked like fucking Carrie White on prom night: coated in blood and stiff as a board. Sitting with a thousand-yard stare and a frozen, muted expression as you tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.

You watched Bucky kneel down in front of you and hardly saw him at all. You sensed him stroke your hair but felt it from a place somewhere far outside your body. Bizarre was an understatement. All you could do was blink.

“It’s not— not her blood, is it?” your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.

“Some of it,” one nurse answered quietly.

Aw, hell. Bucky squatted on the floor and slotted himself between your knees, trying to get as close as possible so he could make you say something, even just see him. One of the attendants raised a warning look and placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off in a second.

“She’s not looking at me,” Bucky’s lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, “Honey, I’m here— I’m right h—”

“She’s in shock.” Another voice came flatly.

Sure, shock works. In truth, your mind was floating somewhere even higher than the 43,000 feet the plane had ascended, and your brain had gone as soft as a clump of cotton candy in the rain. You couldn’t speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.

“She looks like death warmed over.”

Thank you, Steve.

Off to the side in a plush, leather seat of his own, the man nursed a scotch on the rocks and frowned. Bucky didn’t have the strength to throw a punch or a pillow at his head and instead said only to shut the fuck up, man.

Your husband turned to the nurses again.

“She’s pregnant.”

I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.

“No, she’s not, Buck,” Sam said from down the aisle.

“Well, she could be,” Bucky chided, “We’ve been going at it like rabbits since the—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you weren’t currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably would’ve done the same.

Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you were—or very well could be—carrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? She’s my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses weren’t all on Bucky’s payroll they probably would’ve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isn’t pregnant, even if you think your sperm is ‘built different’ than most.

“She’ll be fine either way,” the medic on your left said, stifling a chuckle. Wondering if the man had ever taken a sex ed class in his years of prudish, private education.

Bucky wasn’t convinced. Against all physicians’ wishes, he climbed up beside you in the seat and pulled you into his lap with both arms wrapped around your waist.

By turns, the world was coming back into focus for you. You met Bucky’s gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.

“See? See? She’s back.” Bucky squeezed your hip—and immediately released it when you winced.

“Mind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.”

Your caregivers pro tempore shot your husband a couple wry looks as they packed their supplies and started to leave, getting the sense that their boss wasn’t going to stop badgering them, or you, anytime soon. That worked just fine for Bucky, because then he would get to hold you any way that he liked, as long as you’d let him.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as thrilled.

Sam watched the medics’ departure with a wary look.

“She probably needs to rest, Bucky,” the latter said, careful with his words.

Bucky’s eyes never strayed from yours.

“She’s okay, Sam. She’s good.” Perhaps speaking more to himself than anyone else. Steve shifted in his seat.

In your periphery, Mr. Wilson was approaching with a glass in his hand. You turned your head, and Bucky accepted the cup of water for you.

“Feelin’ alright?” Sam asked.

You tried to nod, but your husband was already cradling your head like a baby, urging you to take your first sip.

A spate of water splashed down the front of your dress. You shot Bucky a look as he hastily tried to dry it.

“She’s not a child, Barnes,” Steve muttered.

“Should probably keep that elevated,” Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, “We’ll get some ice.”

Sam tilted his head again, this time to motion to Steve. His friend pretended not to see him, and then Bucky was back on his feet, keen as ever,

“I’ll go.”

He kissed the top of your head and assured you he’d be right back. He’d just started off toward the door, when Sam hesitated. He flitted a quick look between you and Steve and looked like he wanted to say something, but Bucky was already ushering him out of the room.

When you turned to Steve, you understood why.

The man had you pinned with a stare that could’ve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.

You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.

“Something wrong?”

You weren’t sure how you’d even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.

“You tell me.” Tone dripping with disdain.

You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suit—muddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than you’d seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldn’t shake.

What had you done to piss him off so much? Shit in his cornflakes? Step on his toe? Had he seen you with Joey and jumped to the worst possible conclusion? You sincerely couldn’t make sense of the man’s indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,

“We should’ve left you to die with the rest of your family.”

Your jaw slackened a bit.

“What?”

“You, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you should’ve stayed there to rot.”

Never mind the fact that he’d just wished you dead to your face—what did he mean about your parents?

“But they’re coming with us. Bucky said,” you managed.

“He did?” Steve grinned humorlessly, “He lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

That sent the first real wave of fear pulsing through you. You slowly rose to your feet but, feeling yourself restrained by the makeshift IV line stuck in your skin, you stopped. You plucked the needle out of your arm.

“What are you talking about?”

You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.

“What? That wasn’t part of the plan?” he quirked a brow, “Didn’t think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking family—”

You hardly even noticed you’d swatted Steve’s drink out of his hand until the glass went shattering on the floor. You blinked and raised a shaky, bruised finger about an inch from his face.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Your jaw was clenched so tight you had to speak through your teeth.

Steve was beaming.

The door to the room flew open, and Bucky and Sam strolled in with their ice packs and pillows. They stopped when they saw the glass on the floor and your figure looming over Steve.

“You picked a real spitfire, Buck,” the blond called out, his hands raised in surrender as he smiled up at you.

Bucky seemed more surprised that you were able to stand, much less take that menacing stance over his friend, and he quickly tried to guide you back to your seat. You wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?” You tried to shake your husband off as Steve’s grin grew even bigger.

“They’re fine, honey. Sit down, please,” Bucky mumbled.

“No! He said they were dead!” you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why don’t you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rogers,” Sam uttered quietly.

“Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing, your parents are fine,” Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, James,” you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, “What’s going on?”

“Either she’s a world-class actress or she really doesn’t have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.” Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You would’ve liked to knock back one or two—or ten—yourself.

You turned on your heels to face Bucky. At the moment, he seemed torn between imparting a death black stare on Steve and a placating, apologetic one to you. The tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Baby—” He reached for you, but you pulled back.

“No.”

You wouldn’t ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoil—and perhaps by some painful truths he’d be compelled to share as well—and he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.

Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.

“Why’d you marry him?” Steve said suddenly.

Bucky’s face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,

“Because my dad was in debt.”

“For what?”

You paused.

“Real estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.”

Steve nodded. Ignored Bucky’s sharp, reproachful gaze.

“And how much money did he owe?” he asked.

“Steve,” Sam warned.

“Four, five million—more than he could ever repay.”

This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.

“You’re forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you don’t even know the price that tight little body’s paying?” he scoffed.

His words hadn’t hung in the air for much longer than a second before Bucky decked him, shoving him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. A splash of whiskey was quick to join the bloodstains adorning Steve’s tux, and the pile of broken glass on the floor grew even bigger. The man hardly flinched when Bucky shoved his head to the end table.

“Say it again.” Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.

“She should’ve known!” Steve snapped anyway.

You shared a brief look with Sam but found his expression inscrutable. He kicked a few shards of glass with the toe of his shoe.

“I wasn’t exactly in a place to negotiate,” you grumbled, “They were going to kill my father if we didn’t settle it, so I wasn’t all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.”

If he could go low, you would go lower. Fuck him.

You saw Steve grin through a freshly busted lip and straighten himself back into a seated position. He wiped the blood with the pad of his thumb while Bucky seemed to contemplate swinging again. The look in your eye cautioned him against it.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his words—ones that wouldn’t prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throat—and looked to you, curious,

“Why would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?”

You shrugged.

“He’s a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldn’t fork over that kind of cash.”

Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Bucky’s expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.

“What?” you spat, “Did I say something funny?”

Sam shook his head slowly, starting, “I don’t think—”

“Your daddy’s a fucking gunrunner, sugar,” Steve wheezed, “Head of a multinational arms trafficking syndicate—motherfucker is not selling houses.”

Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldn’t let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.

“And how the fuck would you know?” you said to Steve.

“We work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,” Sam answered.

“And the man is horseshit at business”—Steve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attention—“He was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.”

“James?” You finally turned to him.

“And your daddy didn’t even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,” Steve sneered.

“James,” you pressed again.

You couldn’t understand why your husband refused to speak—going as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.

“HYDRA as in— the Russian mob?” you asked him.

“No, the Girl Scouts,” Steve huffed, “Yes, the mob.”

“Schröder’s boys. Your dad’s been in business with them for years—owed them a lot of money,” Sam added.

“And your dad and Bucky’s dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured he’d do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.” Steve seemed eager to tell this story.

All the while, the hue of Bucky’s cheeks grew even deeper—like he didn’t want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldn’t stand down until you’d heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.

“Then why’d he need me? Just another bartering chip?” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “A pawn?”

“A peace offering,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.

“Your father didn’t owe me anything. I would’ve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted I— that we marry. He wanted an alliance no subsequent financial incentive could disrupt. He would take the money I gave him, pay HYDRA, and bow out of any future dealings with them. Our marriage was supposed to guarantee that.”

Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.

“That was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided he’d have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,” Steve said.

“At the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Bucky’s warehouses in Brooklyn,” Sam continued, “Only problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.”

“So Schröder paid him a visit today,” Bucky muttered.

Without realizing it, you found yourself sinking into the nearest seat and bringing a hand to lay flat on your stomach. You felt sick. More than woozy, truthfully. Your head was spinning and your stomach was twisting something terrible, as if you’d just ingested cyanide.

Fuck, did you need a drink.

You couldn’t look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.

You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joey’s flask.

And, bloodlusting mobsters and outlaws be damned, the Russians knew how to make the hell out of some vodka. A single sniff of the stuff told you this was exactly what you would need to cope with your current situation.

“So you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?” you asked, “You honestly th—FUCK!”

Bucky lunged for the flask in your hand before you could take a single pull. He snatched it away in the blink of an eye and shot you a look.

“Liquor? For our baby?” he barked.

You audibly groaned and were just about to tell him that his understanding of human reproduction was a crock of shit when you stopped. You saw his expression change.

“Where did you get this?” Bucky asked, suddenly pale.

“You, dumbass!”

“Me?”

Bucky was presently passing the flask around to his friends, who were eyeing a spot on the bottom of the container with shared looks of alarm.

“Your friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,” you said.

All three men looked up at once.

“What friend?” Sam asked.

“Joey,” you answered, “Bucky’s friend from the army.”

If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin might’ve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.

Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.

“What friend from the army? What’d he look like?”

You were still scanning Bucky’s face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,

“I-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.”

“Tall fella?” Steve asked.

“Very.”

“Have a German accent?” Sam pressed.

“No, a real thick Southern accent,” you shook your head. It didn’t occur to you then that it could’ve been fake.

You were about to turn your attention back to Bucky, brow still knit in confusion, when a vague memory crossed your mind. You looked up at Sam and Steve.

“He had a—” You tapped your chin lightly, “—a little scar right here.”

You would’ve thought you’d just announced you had a bomb strapped to your ass the way the three men reacted. Each wore identical looks of disbelief and muted horror, exchanging looks between themselves as if they’d just discovered the Atlantic Ocean—and found the Loch Ness Monster lurking somewhere underneath.

Bucky looked the worst out of all of them. His face had drained of all expression and color as he stared at you.

“Joey?” he intoned feebly.

“Yes,” you answered—feeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.

Fortunately, Sam wouldn’t let you wallow in ignorance.

“Johann Schröder,” he supplied in a second, “The man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.”

Steve held the flask in his grasp for you to see the bottom, where a skull with six tentacles was engraved. Then he tipped the canister into a glass he’d taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.

“Looks to be a serum of his,” Steve said, hollow as you’d ever heard him, “Kind of like…roofies.”

“You didn’t drink any of it, did you?” Sam asked.

“Nuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uh— to pour it in my mouth.”

A beat of silence gripped the room.

Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someone’s skull. Or both.

Still, he wouldn’t speak to you.

The inside of your head was throbbing.

You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steve’s eye when he’d suspected you of being a traitor the first time around; this cloyingly sympathetic gaze he was giving you now had to be the most maddening thing. He and Sam both looked on at you like you were a victim. Like you were something to be pitied, or coddled, or left to the capable hands of your husband—a motherfucker who couldn’t even speak so much as a syllable to you.

You felt a pressure build, then swell, then peak between your temples, and you wanted to wince but couldn’t stand the thought of looking weak in front of them.

Then your nose started to bleed.

That, at least, woke Bucky from his reverie as he fumbled around for a napkin and helped you to your feet. He looped an arm around your waist and led you off to the bathroom, his grip tightening on your frame with every step you took.

In two minutes flat, you were flooded with fifteen feet of toilet paper and tissues. Bucky cupped the back of your head in one of his broad, warm palms and kept it plastered there as he instructed you to hold it, honey, hang on, I can grab a few extra rolls right here and guided you toward a private area at the back of the plane.

You could scarcely see above the bunched up wads of Charmin Ultra Strong pressed close to your nose, but you trusted Bucky wouldn’t lead you astray. You felt the welcome touch of a bed underneath you, and then your husband was helping you settle in amongst the pillows and the blankets and the rose petals that had been scattered around before—not entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonetheless—and slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying he’d be right back with those ice packs.

You reached for his hand before he could leave.

“I don’t want it,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, “Want you to talk to me, James.”

Bucky’s brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I am— I’m talking to you right now, honey, I—”

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.

“I don’t want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,” he said simply.

“Why not?”

“You’re not in the right place to hear it.”

You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.

“We’re on a plane. Fleeing Greece. After you got curb-stomped in our honeymoon suite, our post-wedding brunch was bombed by the Russian mob, I was almost drugged by their leader, and my parents are probably as good as dead, if not being held for ransom, as we speak. Please tell me a better place to have this conversation.”

Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.

“Okay.”

Infuriating.

“Okay?” you snapped, “We could’ve died five times today and all you can say is okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fuck this guy. You wiped your nose and stood up too.

Bucky tried to nudge you back onto the bed, wary of the ever-growing number of bumps, bruises, and nosebleeds afflicting your body. He tensed when you nudged him right back.

“I need to see my family,” You stood firm, “As soon as we land wherever it is we’re going, I’m on the first flight back to New York—or wherever they are.”

You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky returned.

“What? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Yes, I will.”

The worst part was he wasn’t even smug about it. Just calm and self-assured. You flung your tissues to the side and threw your hands up in exasperation, feeling the need to step away from him and start pacing the room. The man’s reticence was grating on your nerves.

“Why bother, Buck?” you snorted, “It’s not like I’m even your wife, really. I’m just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?”

You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Bucky’s chest. You looked up to find him frowning.

“Don’t say that again,” he glowered down at you.

Unlike most times before, you didn’t flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didn’t let him win.

“I’m not your wife,” you repeated, “We may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.”

You ignored Bucky’s evident desire to grab hold of something of yours and side-stepped easily, expanding the gap between you two as much as you could. It was almost amusing to see him not in control for once, and floundering to recover what semblance of it he could.

“You are my wife,” he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, “Everything I do now is for you—it’s not a goddamn game to me.”

“You used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” Bucky said, “But I love you.”

“You met me yesterday, motherfucker!”

You could feel another bloody nose rising in your bones. You turned around, swiped your lip with the back of your hand and were surprised to see nothing there. You waited for the bleeding to start back up again. When you turned, Bucky had closed the distance between you and was holding something in his hand.

Before you could protest, he was smoothing the thing over your face—apparently he’d grabbed a washcloth and dampened it—and laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.

“Is it so hard to believe that I love you?” he asked quietly.

He was trying hard to placate you, but his actions were having just the opposite effect. You let him wipe the blood from your face but watched him begrudgingly.

“You want someone to control, Bucky,” you said, “Love is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.”

Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You weren’t finished.

“You look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch over— who can’t take care of themse—”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not what a ‘good little wife’ is to you?” you retorted.

At last, Bucky tossed the hand towel to the side and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped toward the dresser, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“That’s a— a bit I do when I’m horny. I don’t actually want you subservient to me,” he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.

“So holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?” you quizzed.

“To keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. I’m sorry I don’t want to see you butchered because of me,” Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You despised the indignation in your tone but couldn’t help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tie—just like the night before—and, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, brow furrowed.

“Last night,” you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, “And today. Tonight. You’re as still as the fucking grave and won’t say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.”

You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky objected.

“You’re doing it right now! You wouldn’t tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who could’ve— hurt me. You didn’t say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe we’re in this together? That you’re trying to keep me safe? You couldn’t even—” you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a little—“couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!”

Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.

“I had to do that,” he snapped.

He threw his tie to the floor and started to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. The sight of his broad, veiny forearms were only visible to you for a second before he headed toward the closet, peeling off bits and pieces of his ensemble as he walked.

“You didn’t do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didn’t even try to fight back.”

Bucky had just muscled his way out of the confines of his dress shirt, leaving him in a tight, plain white tee. He turned to you with what seemed like the most pointed look of disdain.

“You think I wanted to do that?!” he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.

“You were too chickenshit. Didn’t wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,” you seethed.

Your husband looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall and pummel it several times over. Seemed like he did, anyway. In truth, he didn’t move—just watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.

“I’m chickenshit?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Coward,” you spat.

“Too much of a coward to keep you safe?”

“Precisely.”

At long last, you saw Bucky smile. It was the tightest, most humorless grin that had ever crossed his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. He raised a hand over your head and bracketed his arm against the wall so he was leaning over you. Not meant to intimidate per se, but the sight of that smirk was unnerving, to say the least.

“Did you hear what language they spoke?” he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.

“It sounded like—”

“Russian, that’s right,” Bucky cut in, “Do you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?”

You swallowed and said nothing. Bucky’s breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your body—you weren’t sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.

“They told me, ‘If you move, we’ll kill her,’” Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, “‘If you fight, we’ll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.’ Or something to that effect.”

The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Bucky’s head by the roots of his hair and beating him over and over and over, threatening your life if he made a single move to stop it.

“Bucky—” you started.

“I know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.”

Your husband’s grin had transformed into something more of a crooked, downcast grimace, just baring his teeth as he tried not to lose his composure. Guilt flooded his face.

“I know I should’ve told you then. And after. I should’ve told you about your father as soon as Steve’s informant told us. I just—” Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldn’t meet your gaze—“I didn’t want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.”

It was like a blade had just twisted in your stomach. Your throat ached. You wanted to touch him but were almost too scared to ask. He looked so fragile.

“I am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you could’ve been unfortunate enough to marry.” For a moment, Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, “But that’s not how I’m supposed to love you—or going to love you.”

You weren’t sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.

“I’ve been a shit husband, fake or not. I’m sorry.”

Fake husband maybe, but the look on his face was intractably authentic. Palpable. He blinked as though trying to clear the warm and heady feelings from his expression—suddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted there—and focused instead on a few stray strands of hair that had blown over your face. He got very invested in those, all of a sudden.

While your husband stroked the corners of your face and fixed his gaze away from yours, you felt the smallest prick of warmth spark within you. Bucky looked soft and serene and sincere in his apology, defenseless now as he grazed his knuckles over your cheek and said it again,

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

He paired his apology with a rapid succession of little kisses pressed to your forehead, moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

You wanted to touch him, too. You almost felt as though you didn’t know how.

So you stood there and accepted his affections and tried to nod your head when he asked if you were alright, were you hurting any, baby? You leaned into the gentle pressure of his fingertips taking stock of every cut and bruise you’d sustained over the course of that day, watched Bucky’s brow furrow with each new discovery, and tried not to let his touch stray far down your body.

You wanted to be the one with your hands on him—now more than ever.

When Bucky’s hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didn’t think much of it, just smiling down as tender as he always did, when your lips really grazed over the skin. You pressed a kiss to his finger and wordlessly urged him to move it further. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be at a loss for what to do as you took the tip of his thumb between your lips and suckled it, gently.

“Honey,” he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warning—what were you trying to do?

You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.

“You can’t…” Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didn’t want to see you strain yourself any further.

But whatever pain this might cause was ancillary to you; you curled your tongue around the digit and moaned lightly.

The taste of one finger alone was enough to send you into a frenzy. That and the fact that he had been so open and honest and attentive to your needs made every bone in your body want to jump his. Something about a man taking accountability for his actions and communicating them in a way that didn’t intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Bucky’s efforts all the same.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.

“You worry too much, Mr. Barnes.”

The echo of his words from earlier—the ones he’d said as he was railing you against a mirror—made Bucky’s cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, bunny,” he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.

“Hurt me how?”

You really hadn’t meant to sound like such a tease when you’d said it, but it was hard not to come across that way when you were watching him like that.

And sinking to your knees, with your eyes glued on his.

Bucky sucked in a breath as you kneeled between his feet and nudged the seam of his pants with your nose. He felt so big against your face, you almost couldn’t fathom how he’d fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly he’d gotten hard—as if the two of you weren’t just having a heart-to-heart a second ago—and you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.

“You know I don’t mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,” you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Bucky’s mind.

You heard him stifle a groan when you ghosted your lips over the bulge in his pants and felt him swell even more. Your mouth watered at the sound, the sensation, the raw anticipation of what was to come and knowing that you got to dictate what happened. You undid the button and the zip of his pants and damn near drooled at the sight.

Even confined to his boxers, Bucky looked fucking huge.

Suddenly, you began to understand how needy he had been the night before when he’d first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadn’t so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Bucky grunted as he planted a hand on the wall in front of him. You kissed the outline of his clothed erection and earned a full-throated groan.

Well, that makes two of us, you wanted to say but were too busy palming him through his boxers to utter a word. Soaking in the sight of him with every sweet, soft groan he made and wanting to be the reason for even more.

“Can I take you in my mouth, daddy?” you asked softly.

Bucky flattened his palm against the wall and nodded. Beyond words as you worked him out of his boxers.

For one, fleeting moment, you almost wanted to walk back your big talk when his cock sprung out of the fabric. You really hadn’t seen his length at all last night—too busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good look—but holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You weren’t sure if it was just the nerves of this being your first time giving head or if Bucky truly was that massive, but you felt your courage start to crumble before your eyes.

My husband is hung like a fucking horse and I’ve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.

Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didn’t notice the apprehension in your expression. After all, you were moving your lips down his cock and seizing the base of him with what looked like excitement.

Should I…lick it first?

It seemed you would have to learn all of this on the job. You stuck your tongue out and ran it up the length of his shaft.

When Bucky groaned in response, you sensed that that was okay. You pressed a few kisses on the underside of his member and scrambled to think of what else to do.

“Fuck, baby,” your husband let out the most guttural sound as you squeezed his length in your hand. Then, to your surprise, he seized a fistful of your hair between his fingers and rutted his hips, pushing the head of himself against your lips, “Take me in your mouth.”

You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do this—you’d be fine.

Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and Bucky gripped your hair even tighter. Let out a deep, satisfied moan like this was exactly what he needed. You liked that noise and wanted to take him even further.

What you didn’t expect was four more inches shoved inside your mouth before you could stop to take a breath.

The whole girth of his cock made a sharp intrusion, causing your cheeks to stretch and hollow out around him. The head of his member barely grazed the back of your throat, and still, you gagged. And not only gagged but choked, as though someone had just tried to scrub your tonsils with a fine-bristle toothbrush. Unfortunately for you, Bucky’s dick did not taste like spearmint.

He pulled his cock out as quickly as he’d pushed it in.

“Sorry. Shit, sorry.” Bucky blinked twice to get out of that blissed-out headspace and shot you a sheepish look.

The man had rarely been obliged to slow down or take five when his old, ever-changing flavors of the night sucked him off before—most blew him without trouble. But you, kneeling there batting your lashes through a few more tears than expected, seemed uncertain. Even half of his shaft made for a tight fit in your mouth, Bucky thought with some guilty feelings of arousal. He watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand and frown.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby,” Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.

Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.

You raised a brow.

“Why? That all you got, Barnes?”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle—and grunt, a little—when you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.

“Honey, are you s—”

He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.

“My mouth isn’t made of paper mâché. You can fuck it a little harder than that,” you said, running your touch down his length while holding his gaze. You looked eager.

Before Bucky could respond, you took the tip of his cock between your lips. Flattened your tongue and glided your mouth down as far as it could go before your cheeks started to hurt—then bobbed your head even further. One of your husband’s hands made a fist in your hair while the other scraped the wall, and you could tell it was taking some serious effort not to rut his hips out of habit.

Be gentle, be gentle, your dick barely fits in her mouth—

“—fucking hell you feel good,” he groaned.

Bucky took one look and could have cum on the spot.

It was one thing to feel you licking and sucking and stretching to accommodate his length, and another thing entirely to see you knelt in front of him with the world’s sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. You’d nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomen—and looked so pretty doing it.

Bucky fucking loved it. And you. And fucking you, your face, any place he could fit himself, quite frankly. He stared down at you struggling to take his cock and felt a strange new wave of desire pulsing through his body.

“You like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?”

“Barely fits but you take it so well, bunny.”

“My good little wife and her pretty fucking mouth—likes sucking daddy’s cock however deep he needs it, huh?”

You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldn’t quite speak your mind with your mouth full of Bucky, so you had only to nod. Your husband groaned when you hummed along his length and bobbed your head to answer ‘yes.’ He saw you try not to gag and decided to thrust a little deeper.

He watched his cock drag back and forth along your tongue and took hold of your hair like a vice, fucking your face until your chin and cheeks were drenched with spit. Every now and then he’d pull his cock out just long enough to ask how bad you wanted him in your mouth, how desperate you were to taste him again, and every time you’d answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.

You were amazed you’d lasted as long as you had—how quickly you’d devolved into this pliable, doe-eyed cocksleeve for Bucky and how keenly you desired to please him even more. It felt pornographic and lewd and somehow still loving as he plowed in and out of your mouth and sang your praises like no man had before.

Above you, Bucky was aching for release but adamant that he wouldn’t cum down your throat—not yet, at least.

His mind was alight with those pesky, primal thoughts again, and every time he watched you swallow him whole, he just wanted to fuck his cum someplace else.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was smitten or simply dominated by carnal desire; all he knew was that he wanted to give you his babies.

Lots and lots of babies.

A hundred or more, if he had it his way.

Again, you barely had a chance to take a fresh breath before Bucky threw you onto the bed. You’d just tried to steady yourself in a semi-seated position when the man shoved you back in the pillows and slotted himself between your legs, pupils blown wide with hunger.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your stomach with your ass yanked high in the air. Back made to arch, toes about to curl, you closed your eyes and sank your teeth into the sheets, moments away from begging your husband to fuck you right then and there, but Bucky had other plans. He seized the hair at the crown of your head and jerked your head to face forward.

The first thing to greet you was your own reflection—in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bed—followed by Bucky’s broad form steadying behind you. You watched him wet his lips, furrow his brow, and use one careful hand to guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Completely piqued with arousal as you were, weeping beads of desire from that place between your legs, you almost wanted to buck your hips and fuck him yourself.

You refrained.

Bucky pressed the tip of himself to your clit and met your gaze in the mirror when you let out a whimper.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.

“Mean what?”

It took an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the moan in your throat when Bucky dragged his cock down the seam of your cunt and rubbed every hot, throbbing inch of himself in the slickness between your folds. You were quick to take the sheets in your hands and squeeze as tight as you could—you wouldn’t let him win that easy.

“When you said you weren’t my wife. Did you mean it?” Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.

“No. I didn’t,” you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.

“Do you want to be my wife?” Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.

“Yes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?”

In response, and as if to make a mockery of your request, Bucky just pressed the head of his cock inside you and watched you close in the mirror—daring your hips to move back another inch.

“What else do you want to be, doll?”

To say your mind was an empty slate bare of anything but the desire to be fucked was an understatement. You fumbled to find words.

“Your wife, your girl— that’s it, Bucky.”

Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.

“A good girl?” he hummed.

“Yes, daddy,” you cried and clenched around him.

Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the world’s most shallow thrusts as he flattened his hand on your back and made sure it stayed arched while he teased you.

At this point, you didn’t care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.

“Bucky!”

“Wanna be my obedient little cockslut?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“My bunny?”

“Yes, James.” Your cheeks were enflamed, almost hot to the touch.

Bucky suddenly drove himself inside you all the way to the hilt. He squeezed your hip in one hand and with the other slipped a finger between your folds to rub vicious, tight circles against your clit as you bucked and moaned beneath his touch.

“How about a momma?” he pressed, almost too low to be heard, “Wanna be that, too?”

His hips fell into a quick and easy rhythm against your ass, stretching you wide and filling you up almost seamlessly. Your mind was too consumed with pleasure and him to think much else, but barely, you managed,

“W-what?”

Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.

“Do you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking—what the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Bucky’s in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“No— James, we’re not, shit—” you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, “We’re not ready for that.”

“Look pretty…ready to me,” Bucky stifled a groan when you squeezed around him and made obscene little noises sliding up and down his cock. He watched the way your pretty, wet pussy stretched and swallowed him down to the base and imagined it dripping with his cum. He snapped his hips against your ass even faster.

It wasn’t clear just who was more overcome with desire—both of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as you’d ever been—and then Bucky flipped you onto your back.

He wanted to see your face as he fucked you slow this time, lips hovering mere inches from your own as he dragged his cock gently in and out of you.

“James,” you breathed, digging your heels in his back with a wordless plea to speed up, baby, please.

In truth, you just knew what would happen if Bucky had the advantage of slow and soft sex with a mouth lowered close to your ear. How he’d shower you with kisses and bring you right to the edge, rolling his hips against your body with strings of sweet praises flowing fast off his tongue.

“Just one, honey,” he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, “One baby and I promise we’ll be done.”

Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.

“Can you do that for me, doll?” he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, “Fit my baby in there?”

You couldn’t deny the feelings of pleasure were heightened to no end when he rubbed the heel of his palm into your tummy and continued to rut into you. That feeling of fullness, the delicate nudge against your most sensitive place, paired with the warmth of Bucky’s hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as you’d ever felt before orgasm, and it wasn’t hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing that spot, “You’d look so pretty all swole up down here, don’t you think?”

Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.

“Someone…tried to kill us…twice in the last twenty four hours,” you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Bucky’s cock kissed your cervix and you felt him bottom out inside you.

Balls deep and enamored with the expression on your face, Bucky laid a kiss on your forehead and smiled.

“I’ll take Schröder’s life with my own two hands if it means keeping you—” he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, “—and our child safe, honey.”

You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promise—even if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knew—but you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little you’d seen in the last day and a half, it had become clear as ever that there were no certainties; no promise of tomorrow, much less a probability that things would pan out exactly as you planned. Add to that a living, breathing child between you two, and the prospects for a safe, secure, and peaceful future were small. Infinitesimally so, in the grand scheme of things.

“No, Bucky,” you finally opened your eyes to find his tender gaze watching over you. Still moving his hips gently, still blanketing your body with his own, “That’s entirely just— just irresponsible. You know it would be.”

“Making a child together?” Bucky seemed wounded saying the words.

And, in spite of the serious turn your conversation had taken, you could see and feel with the growing pace of your breaths that both of you were close. You wanted more than anything to repair that muted, injured look in his eyes, but then Bucky was blinking it away, to the best of his abilities, and lowering his head back down to yours to impart a soft barrage of kisses along your skin. He resumed before you could even think to speak again.

“Okay. No, you’re right. It’s your choice, my love,” he murmured against your cheek, getting back into the more deliberate rhythm of his thrusts before. He stayed there holding his body and his lips as close to yours as possible, and when you felt tempted to say something again, you found the sound drowned by a cresting wave of pleasure.

Your legs tightened around Bucky’s sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Bucky’s drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.

“Gonna cum for me, doll?”

You nodded.

“So close, Bucky,” you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.

You felt your husband’s hand move from your belly to a place just below it—taking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nerves—and started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.

“Good girl,” Bucky growled, “Good fuckin’ girl, taking me so well.”

The praises and gentle circuits of his thumb continued as he fucked you harder into the bed and panted against your skin. Increasing the speed of his thrusts before catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss, body sinking into yours.

“Gonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?”

You whined in response, feeling your muscles start to ache from how hard your legs were wrapped around him. Bucky invaded your mouth with his tongue, kissing and licking and craving your taste as he fucked you stupid—and begged for your release.

“Cum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.”

A couple more snaps of his hips and you gave him just that: a hot, cascading ripple of bliss spreading all throughout your body, sending your mind in spirals and every muscle under your command a tense, throbbing mess. You swallowed a scream and took a bite of Bucky’s shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled with an audible hint of pride.

The smile only started to waver when his own release was coming close. Suddenly, his grip was moving to your hip and pinning you down to the bed, brows pinching in and breaths starting to hitch.

“Honey— honey,” he said, voice strained, “Baby, you— you gotta let go of your— ah, fuck.”

Still riding out the highs of your orgasm, you hardly even noticed how tight you were holding him with your legs, and shortly, this raised issues for Bucky, who was trying like hell to heed your wishes and not cum inside you.

“Baby, let go, I gotta—”

He probably could’ve fought to shake you off a little harder, been a bit more adamant about his efforts, but you looked so comfortable and lithe and sweet beneath his frame, so blissed out and happy to be taking his strokes, Bucky almost had to pinch himself to rouse his lust-addled brain to action and remind himself that this was how babies are made, man, get the fuck off of her.

Bucky let out a long, strangled groan as the ropes of cum left his body before he could think, or move, fast enough.

He hastily pushed your legs away and pulled out, but not before painting your walls with a good portion of his load. His hand fell to his cock and started jerking the rest of it out over your stomach, body washing with pleasure.

Vaguely, thoughts of babies and ballgames and neat white picket fences crossed his mind, but those views were fleeting; he remembered what you’d told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve pulled out quicker,” Bucky panted against your neck.

You stroked his bicep and shook your head.

“You’re fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,” you breathed and shared a weary laugh.

Before you knew it, Bucky was sliding off the bed and shuffling toward the bathroom in search of a towel. You prodded the warm, gooey mess on your belly with your finger and raised an eyebrow. Curious, and only slightly worried.

Bucky had been hitting it raw for a day now—surely one more half-load of his wouldn’t get you pregnant, right?

Fortunately, you didn’t have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.

A phone call? At 45,000 feet?

“Just the intercom,” Bucky called out, “Probably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.”

Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.

“You think they could hear us?” you asked.

Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.

“Hope so,” he said with a shrug, “You know I’d never miss a chance to let ‘em know I took a trip to poundtown—”

“Please never say that again,” you groaned, closing your eyes in sudden fear of what Steve and Sam may or may not have just been made privy to outside of the room.

You were just about to speak up again—perhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didn’t hurry the fuck up with that towel—when the intercom’s jarring peal started up once more.

Fuck this. Ignoring the sticky-sweet puddle of love still painted on your stomach, you sat up and crawled over to the phone and ripped it off the hook.

“Barnes residence,” you announced without ceremony. Then, imagining how smug Steve was probably looking on the other end of that line, you decided to be crass and add, “Bucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, he’ll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!”

You heard the caller burst out laughing, and you smiled to yourself. Pleased to have made an otherwise moody and brooding Steve Rogers crack at one of your jokes, you were just about to hang up when the caller cut in.

Bucky was returning with your towel in hand, lips curled in the faintest of smirks at hearing your crude declaration, when he stopped at the foot of the bed.

He saw the smile fall from your face, and his did, too.

From the other end of the line, a soft and familiar Southern drawl crawled out of the phone’s receiver.

“Sure thing, doll. Tell him it’s Joey Schröder calling.”

Taglist: @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

Without saying a word to him, you give the bartender your order. The tension is palpable - at least, on your end. When you and Bucky agreed that Russia never happened, you didn't think he'd actually stay true to his word. You assumed you'd spend a few days apart, acting normal, and then he'd find himself unable to keep his hands off you and drag you into a closet or keep you behind after a meeting.

But he didn't.

He watched on as you qualified for Agent, barely even giving you a congratulatory word, saw as you rose through the ranks, past your more senior colleagues, and hasn't so much as brushed past you.

You suppose it's a good thing he hasn't. You wouldn't have been able to focus so hard on your work and been the youngest person to ever earn the title Special Agent if Bucky had been distracting you, so you're grateful to him for leaving you alone.

"Well done, rookie," His voice chimes out from beside you and takes you by surprise.

Turning to look up at him, you raise a brow. Flashes of the night in Russia fly through your head and you do your best to ignore them. "Thanks," Is your stoic reply. He's given you next to nothing for the past four months, so why should you give him anything?

"I didn't think it would, but it looks good on you," He begins. "Special Agent. You know it took Sharon three years to get that?"

"I'm not Sharon," You remind him, before narrowing your eyes. "You didn't think excelling in my field would look good on me?"

Is that why he's been avoiding you? Do you no longer attract him because you're no longer a fresh-faced trainee, willing to do whatever he says? Was it truly just the power play that got him hard for you - was he just getting off on how in control he was?

"I didn't mean it like that," He says, seeing the cogs turn in your head. "Don't spin this into something dark - I'm happy for you."

"So, what did you mean by that?" You push, not willing to let him off so easily. "You didn't think a young trainee would still be attractive once she qualified? How am I supposed to take that?"

"You're supposed to take it in the way that most of the Special Agents here are some of the most boring, to-the-books people I've worked with," He explains. "Sticklers for rules."

"Who says I'm not a stickler for rules?" You ask with a raised brow. "You haven't been on a mission with me since- since I qualified."

There's a sparkle in his eye when he replies. "Rules aren't something you're exactly notorious for following, rookie."

You take your drink from the bartender and turn to leave while uttering, "I'm not your rookie anymore."

The words he said to you that night still echo in your mind. The utter filth he whispered into your ear, the dark promises he made, the post-orgasm secrets he spilled.

"There's nothing like some healthy competition," Maria says as she stands at your desk. "Fight for it."

"Are you kidding?" Jenn asks her with a raised brow. "You want us to fight for a mission?"

You're pulled from your thoughts - memories of Russia - and plunged into the present. Maria came out to the bullpen and offered you a mission. Well, offered you and Jenn a mission.

"You're both capable, but it only needs one agent," Maria states while the others begin to listen in. "And I can't decide which of you should have it. Jenn, this would be a good boost in your journey to Special Agent. And Y/N, it would be good for you to add this to your repertoire."

"I think me hitting Special is a little more important than Y/N's repertoire," Jenn challenges with a quirked brow. She's grown a lot more confident since making agent, and seems to think she's untouchable. Then again, becoming the youngest ever Special Agent definitely gave you a confidence boost, too.

If it was anyone else, you'd sit back and let them have it. But Jenn's had a stick up her ass and has hated you since the day you met, so you're feeling petty.

"Y/N, your response?" Maria asks, secretly loving the competition between you. "Why should I give you this mission?"

You stand up from your chair and reply bluntly, "Because I'm better than Agent Curson."

A few gasps and stifled laughs are heard around the bullpen, but you keep your face straight. Jenn lets out a scoff. "You're such a fucking narcissist," She utters bitterly.

"It's factually correct that I'd get this mission done more efficiently and to a better quality than you," You say plainly, sick of her shit. "That's not narcissistic; it's realistic."

"Come on, Y/N," Landon says from behind you with a wince. "You're just being mean, now."

"Am I?" You question, taken aback by his words.

"Agent Hill, you know I respect every decision you make," Jenn begins. "But the only reason Y/N made Special so quickly is because she's friends with the Avengers. The rest of us are just as skilled as her."

"What are you talking about?" You ask her with a frown. "The fuck do the Avengers have to do with anything?"

"Oh, please!" She cries. "You leech onto their missions whatever chance you get-"

"That's enough, agents," Maria says lowly.

"I get assigned onto their missions; that's out of my control," You remind Jenn coldly. "The only one I sometimes say fucking 'hi' to while passing by is Steve, so how I'm friends with the Avengers is beyond me!"

"Oh, you're only friends with Captain fucking America?" She shoots back. "Some of us haven't even met him yet!"

"How is that my fault?" You yell.

"That is enough!" Maria cuts in curtly, shutting you both up before she turns to Landon. "Agent Croft, I'm assigning you to the mission. The rest of you, get on with your work."

You and Jenn continue to glare at each other for a few short moments before you grab your phone and turn to leave.

"You can deny it all you want," Jenn suddenly mumbles, making you stop in your tracks. She looks down at you, a cold look in her eyes. "I know something happened between you and Sergeant Barnes in Russia."

Your heart lurches up into your throat. "What?" You sputter. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm a very perceptive person. He barely even looks at you anymore, and he rarely ever left you alone before Russia," She says with a dirty look. "Probably regrets cheating on his girlfriend with such a piece of trash-"

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," You tell her coldly.

"Sure, I don't," She cuts in with a smirk. "But you do, don't you? You fucked him, didn't you? Slut."

You push her backwards and she's quick to retaliate, grabbing your arm and twisting it. A few punches and kicks are thrown between you before you're pulled away from her, by none other than Nick Fury. Fuck.

"What in God's name are you two doing?" He asks you both with rage in his eyes.

"Sorry, Director Fury," You say through deep breaths. "We were just training."

"Yeah, fucking right," He mutters bitterly, releasing your arm as he glares at you both. "Any more of that shit and you'll both be on desk-duty for three months. Got it?"

"Yes, Director Fury," You and Jenn say in unison.

He leaves with a huff. You walk away from Jenn, not trusting yourself to keep your hands off her if she makes another comment.

How the fuck could she have noticed something went on in Russia? Is she truly that good of an agent that she noticed the difference in yours and Bucky's relationship? Sure, he's barely said a word to you when usually he's all over you, but you didn't think anyone else besides you would have realized.

Fucking Jenn.

Ever since you were made Special Agent, you can't deny you've felt a little different. As though you should take your job more seriously - which has meant turning down invitations to drinks, and nights out, and office parties. When Steve gave you a pout and said nobody should spend New Year's alone, though, you couldn't help but agree to attend the company-wide party being thrown at HQ. In fact, even some of the employees from Stark Industries are here, including a certain Sergeant's girlfriend.

As soon as the expensive whiskey hits your tongue, you internally thank Steve for dragging you along. Though you aren't a fan of the way a few of the trainees are looking at you as though they only just realized you have tits, it's nice to see everyone who you don't always get the chance to work with.

"And then Cap here walks in, all casual, and he's like, 'I can do this all day," Landon recounts, making everyone laugh.

"You're such a cheeseball," You mutter with a smile as you nudge Steve's ribs.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I can't help it," He claims.

Suddenly, there's a squeak over the sound system. "Hey, people!" Tony yells over the microphone. "It's almost midnight, and there's nowhere near enough of you dancing right now - grab a partner and make your way to the dancefloor, or else you're fired!"

"Oh, Cap, you know what you've gotta do," Landon says, patting his shoulder. "Take Agent Y/L/N and go dance!"

"Excuse me?" You ask incredulously. It's one thing attending a work party, but it's a whole other thing dancing at it. You don't want to completely lose all the fear and respect you've spent all year building up. "I don't dance."

"C'mon, sweetheart," Steve says, taking your hand. "Let's go."

His tone makes you think you don't have a choice, so you begrudgingly allow him to take you to the dancefloor. A few other couples are already swaying along as the band sings their rendition of A Little Less Conversation.

"Was Elvis around in your time?" You ask him as you rest your arms on his shoulders, not exactly clued up on Elvis or the 40s.

"Nah, he was popular after the war," Steve tells you, placing his hands on your hips as the two of you sway to the beat.

"I still can't believe you were around back then," You say, shaking your head. "It blows my mind."

"How do you think I feel?" He asks with a chuckle.

"You know what?" You begin with a smirk as you look around at all the stares you're getting. "I'm with the most eligible bachelor here. Every woman here wishes she was me. That feels good."

"You know what feels better?" Steve counters with a glint in his eye before he leans in closer and lowers his voice. "Every man here wishes he was me."

Laughing at his claim, you shrug. "I guess that makes us the hottest couple here," You say before frowning. "Wasn't there... weren't you and Agent Carter...?"

His cheeks flush pink and he looks down. "Uh, we decided to just be friends," He says, stealing a glance at Sharon who's dancing with Carol. "We tried, but... it was a little too weird, with her being related to... it was weird."

You nod slowly. "That's understandable."

As another song begins, you look across the floor to see Bucky dancing with Emma. His eyes are already on you as he gazes at you over her shoulder. His look tells you what he's thinking without you needing to ask - he's thinking about Russia. You can see it in the way his eyes have darkened, the lack of smile on his lips. Emma lifts her head and his eyes rip away from yours, and after she mumbles something to him, he gives her a soft kiss.

Maybe Jenn was right. Even though you refuse to admit it to her face, she may be right about Bucky feeling guilty because of what went down in Russia. That would explain why he's been avoiding you - but it doesn't make you feel any better about it.

Sick of how you're feeling, you decide to have a little fun with the man who isn't avoiding you. You spin around so your back is against Steve's front, the two of you continuing to dance. His hands grasp your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Now everyone is definitely staring at us," He whispers with a chuckle.

"Good," You say, turning your head to the side towards him. "Think they're jealous?" Think he's jealous? Tell me he's jealous.

"I'd bet on it," Steve mumbles, stroking your hips. "I'm sure you're the subject of most of the other agents' fantasies. And maybe a couple Avengers, too."

"You think so?" You ask, perking up at his words.

"I can guarantee it," He says, squeezing your hip as your ass brushes against his crotch.

Turning back around to face him, you place your hands on his shoulders. "I thought you heavily disapprove of workplace relationships?" You wonder, recalling the HR meeting earlier on in the year.

Steve shrugs with an innocent smile and brings his lips to your ear before saying, "How am I supposed to stop myself from getting hard over you?"

You gasp and hit his chest. "Captain Rogers-"

"I'm kidding," He claims, looking you up and down. "It's the dress. Not you."

"Ah, sure," You tease with a grin, happily taking on the ego boost.

"Listen up, beautiful people!" The singer suddenly announces. "It's almost time for the countdown - y'all ready to bring on the new year?"

Everyone bursts into cheers and the dancefloors fills up.

"I want y'all to grab a partner and give them a nice, big kiss to welcome this new beginning, alright?" The singer orders, causing everyone to break off into pairs.

"Alright if I smooch you, Agent?" Steve asks you lowly.

"I guess," You say casually. "Seeing as I don't have any other options."

"Come on, now," He says with a smirk as he wraps his arms around you. "I'm the most eligible bachelor here, aren't I?"

"Y'all ready?" The singer asks before the lighting in the room dims. "Ten!.. Nine!"

The crowd chants along with him, you and Steve included. You look around at all your colleagues, the trainees, the agents you started with, the seniors who taught you everything you know.

And him.

Your eyes lock with Bucky's again, like moths to a flame. Emma's moving closer to him, preparing to kiss him. You look away. Back to Steve.

"Don't do anything stupid like fall in love with me, okay?" He warns you teasingly as he pulls you flush against his body.

"Impossible," You retort lightly as you squeeze his shoulders. "I have no heart."

"Two!.. One! Happy New Year!"

Steve kisses you deeply, a much more intense kiss than you were expecting. But it's New Year's, and everyone around you is making out, so why the fuck not?

By the time you both pull away, everyone else is back to drinking and dancing. Confetti continues to float from the ceiling and you pull a few pieces out of your hair and cleavage.

"Good kiss," Steve says simply, patting your ass lightly. "Happy New Year, baby."

"Happy New Year, Cap," You reply, unable to deny the flutter you feel in your pussy at his casual use of the nickname.

Stop. One super soldier at a time.

"Drinks," You say, reaching up to remove the stray confetti from his hair. "C'mon, Rogers."

The two of you have a couple of shots at the bar before you feel the alcohol get to your head. Slightly tipsy, you decide to escape to the hallway for a reprieve from the loud music.

While you're fluffing up a fake rose bush by the elevator, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You think nothing of it, assuming someone else is also pathetic enough to leave a New Year party at ten minutes past midnight, and continue mumbling to yourself while running your fingers through the plastic plant.

"Hey, rookie," His unmistakably gruff voice calls out seconds before his hands are on your hips.

"What do you want, Sergeant Barnes?" You ask, turning your head to the side.

He rests his chin on your shoulder. "Don't call me that," He whispers, slightly whining. "You know what it does."

Ignoring the way your stomach flips, you nudge him with your shoulders. "Get off me, you prick," You mumble, not really trying very hard to get him off you.

"What's wrong?" He asks lowly.

You roll your eyes. "Don't play all coy with me, Barnes," You spit. "You're the one who's been avoiding me. Feeling guilty about what you did?"

"Rookie-"

"Whatever," You utter bitterly. "I don't care what excuse you have. It felt really shitty when you stopped talking to me. We were friends at one point, you know? We had a mutual respect, or at least I thought- what are you doing?"

His hands have slipped under the hem of your dress and are trailing up your thighs. "What else?" He asks you with a mumble. "What else you mad at me for?"

You almost lose your train of thought as he pulls your panties to the side. "Bucky..."

"Tell me," He whispers into your ear.

"You didn't pretend like Russia never happened," You say, your breath hitching in your throat as he begins to rub your clit with his vibranium fingers. "It... things were supposed to go back to normal."

"What's normal?" He asks while plunging a cold, hard finger inside you.

A whimper leaves your mouth as you wrap your hand tightly around his wrist. "Flirting," You breathe out, trying to keep calm. "Talking to me. Touching me... inappropriately."

"Yeah, you miss that?" He utters smugly.

"You're a bastard and I hate you," You spit, your words mostly fueled by the alcohol in your bloodstream. "I hate that you just left me alone after Russia. Dropped me like I'm nothing."

He adds another finger, fucking them in and out of you, curling his digits inside you.

"Fuck, Bucky," You moan, swallowing thickly. "I hate that you're still with her. She's so... boring."

"We have fun," He claims casually.

"Bullshit," You sputter. "And I hate that she doesn't suspect you at all. You should have slipped up - she should have realized what you did."

"Isn't it a good thing that she didn't?" Bucky wonders as he speeds up.

"No," You whine. "It- it shouldn't be that easy for you to stop thinking about me. To stop fantasizing about me - I'm the best you ever had, and you know it. She should know it."

"Cum for me, rookie," He mutters in your ear.

"I hate that you still call me that," You let out between heavy breaths. "I am a Special Agent."

"Cum for me."

"I hate that you're only doing this because you saw me kiss Steve," You spill as the pitch of your voice heightens. "Jealous. Trying to mark your fuckin' territory, you prick."

"Cum."

With a strangled cry, you keel over, cumming hard over his fingers as they curl and scissor in your throbbing pussy.

"That's a good girl," He purrs while you let out weak moans, your heart racing. "Just like that."

You pull his hand out from between your legs and take a few steps forwards before turning to face him. "You're insane," You breathe out. "Someone could've walked out and seen us."

His lip curls up into a smirk and he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. "Well, they didn't."

When he kisses you, you taste Asgardian ale on his tongue. You've only ever had a sip of it before, and all you remember is waking up eighteen hours later with a raging headache.

"You're drunk," You mumble against his lips. "That's the only reason you're here with me right now."

"Not true," He mutters.

"I don't give a fuck, by the way," You state firmly. "I don't care that you've been ignoring me. I'm just annoyed."

He raises a brow. "Doesn't that mean-"

"I'm just bored," You reiterate pointedly. "We used to have fun, y'know? Used to... you'd be all flirty, and fucking..."

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, seemingly sincerely as he places his hands on your hips. His boner presses against your stomach. "I, uh, I guess I've been a pussy recently. I was... scared."

You can tell how difficult it is for him to admit it, so you appreciate his vulnerability. "Scared of me?" You ask him with a frown.

"I meant it when I said I'd never slept with other girls before," He tells you. "I mean, never cheated on Em before. I'm new to this whole sneaking around thing. I didn't know how you'd react."

"For what it's worth, I'm new to it too," You point out. "If you're uncomfortable, it doesn't ever have to happen again, I just want us to go back to how we were before."

"Who said I don't want it to happen again?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours.

Your stomach flips. "Bucky..."

"C'mon, rookie," He utters. "We're good at it. Making each other feel better, I mean. It's just sex; it's not a big deal."

"Not sure Em would feel that way," You say with a raised brow.

"What she doesn't know, won't kill her," He replies casually. "Sometimes, this job can be fucking tough. Sometimes, I need a reprieve, and she isn't always here."

Your heart skips a beat and you shake your head, suddenly aware of what you're doing. "We're bad people."

"We're real people," He returns.

A thump sounds out behind him, signifying that the door to the bar has opened. You take a step back from him and he lets go of your hips. Casually, you rest against the wall, waiting for the person to walk by.

Turning to see who it is, you grit your teeth. Of course.

"Having fun out here?" She asks with a raised brow.

Fucking Jenn.

"Hey, Agent Curson," Bucky calls out to her with a nod. "Just chatting. You know what Y/N's like; she might die if she doesn't get any special attention for too long."

Her eyebrow flicks up. She's surprised he's back to how he was - back to teasingly you relentlessly. Back to flirting with you unabashedly, back to overstepping boundaries.

"Uh-huh," She replies as she continues walking over.

"I like your dress," You say, lying through your teeth.

"Thanks," She says with a nod, looking you up and down before turning her attention to Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, I believe Miss Green's looking for you."

"She is?" He returns before nodding. "Thanks for letting me know. I'm just in the middle of a conversation with Y/N right now."

Jenn almost looks slightly nervous - as though Emma sent her out to get Bucky and told her not to return unless he was with her. "But, Sergeant, she-"

"I'm busy right now, Agent," Bucky cuts her off curtly. "I'll get back to the party once we're done here. You can go, now."

Your heart races and you do everything you can not to smirk right in Jenn's face. She clenches her jaw before turning and leaving with a half-assed, mumbled apology. Once she's gone, you grab Bucky by the collars and pull him closer to you.

"That was so hot," You utter against his lips. "I can't stand that bitch."

Bucky chuckles, stroking your ass and squeezing it. "I figured that would cheer you up. Still hate me?" He asks with a cheeky grin.

You narrow your eyes before giving him a kiss. "Put Jenn in her place a couple more times and I'm putty in your hands, Sergeant," You admit, as terrible a person as that makes you.

He kisses you again, the two of you making out wildly against the wall. Any second, someone else could walk out from the bar - Emma herself, even - but that only adds fuel to the fire.

"So fucking hard for you," He grumbles as he grinds his boner against your belly. "When you gonna let me fuck your face again, huh?"

You pull back, letting out a soft laugh. "I guess you'll have to wait until our next mission together, Sergeant," You say slyly, raising a brow. "Seeing as I'm just a reprieve for when she's not around."

Bucky grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head back, making you cry out. "Don't act smart," He grumbles, making your stomach flip. "What are you, huh? Tell me."

You let out a shaky breath before replying, "I'm your fucktoy, Sergeant Barnes."

"That's right," He says with a smirk, thrusting gently against your stomach. "Mine. My little cumdump for when I want you. You bend over when I say so. You suck my cock when I say so. You cum when I say so."

Your eyes burn into his. You don't think you've ever been so turned on in your life.

"That means no playing with yourself when you're alone, unless I say you can," He iterates lowly, before his eyes darken. "And no letting other men fuck you. This cunt," He grabs your mound, making you whimper. "Is mine to fill. This ass," He spanks you hard. "Is mine to play with. These perfect fucking tits," He pulls your dress down suddenly along with your bra, and slaps one of your boobs before pulling on your nipple. "Are mine to suck on. Open your mouth."

You do as he says, never once looking away from him.

He puts his four flesh fingers into your mouth, stretching it out. "This pretty face is mine to fuck," He whispers, sliding his fingers in and out, making you gag. "All mine. Do you understand me, rookie? Say it."

You let out a gargled version of the words I understand around his fingers, making him smirk cruelly. He's got you right where he wants you, and the power rush he gets from having such a strong person broken down like this is beyond anything else he's ever felt.

"That's my girl," He says before pulling out of your mouth and pulling your bra and dress back up. "Now, give me your panties."

Your eyes widen. You can feel how wet they are, not only from your orgasm but from the past five minutes of Bucky's torture - surely he's not being serious.

"Are you-"

"Don't make me ask twice," He cuts in curtly, looking down at you with a firm look.

He watches as you pull them down, struggling slightly to get them over your heels, before you timidly hand them to him. Bucky takes them from you and brings them to his face for a few seconds as he inhales.

"Fuck, you always smell so good," He groans, making your breath hitch in your throat. With a wink, he stuffs them into his trouser pocket, before tapping your hip. "Let's head back in."

Unbelievably horny and unable to snap out of your daze, you shake your head. "I can't."

He knows the effect he has on you, and he relishes in it. "C'mon, Special Agent Y/N. They're waiting for us."

"I probably look a mess," You mumble, still feeling shell-shocked.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your arm. "You look as gorgeous as ever, dumbass, come on. Let's go," He says, beginning to drag you back to the bar before stopping to turn to you. "Oh - and if Steve asks you to dance with him again, do me a favor and kick him in the balls."

bucky masterlist

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