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extremelyblackandwhite · 10 months

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pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

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Sadie was an easy kid, that’s what Y/N used to tell everyone who asked her what it was like being the au pair for the daughter of a millionaire. Sadie wasn’t spoiled, she barely made a fuss and was usually happy to just play along with her toys as long as she wasn’t bothered too much. In a few words, she was the perfect kid. Today, however, she had decided that as she was reaching the end of 2 and cutting close to 3, maybe she’d ought to live out to the terrible 2s moniker that everyone seemed to know.

The redhead had closed herself in her room, ignoring every word her father said and continuing on playing with her kitchen play set as if nothing else was happening around her. Y/N had mostly let it happen, watching from the bottom of the stairs while sipping on her cup of tea. It was her day off, her day to only focus on her failing studies and, after all, she wasn’t Sadie’s mother. Why should she bother? Besides, it was rather enjoyable to watch Bucky want to rip the hairs off his head from the comfort of knowing that it wasn’t her problem.

Bucky huffed, going downstairs hoping his daughter would come out in defeat - he’d clearly forgotten where she’d gotten her attitude from. Y/N merely turned around as he faced her with a look of both exhaustion and begging.

- She’s not coming out of her bedroom.

- I see that. - she replied, shrugging while taking her cup to the sink.

- School starts in 10 minutes and she’s not coming out of her bedroom or getting dressed.

- Don’t forget they’ll only take her in if she’s there at start date plus 10 minutes after.

- What? When has that been a rule? I can’t take her to the office today, my calendar’s filled with meetings back to back.

- Should’ve thought about that this morning, huh. Besides, I’m not working for you today.

Bucky followed her as she made her way to the table to grab her laptop and pens. He didn’t remember that policy? Was there a policy like that? Well, he wouldn’t know as she’d never been late. She’d never been late before, Y/N always got her there on time. Yet again, it seemed as if Y/N was Mary Poppins and he the bad guy who couldn’t even get Sadie to brush her hair.

- Y/N, please. - he sighed. She turned around, staring at him with a look which he’d have fucked out of any other women. She was being bratty and he had no time to deal with it. He couldn’t deal with it. - I’m begging you.

- You’re begging me? - she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at me. - You don’t look like you’re begging to me. Besides I’ve told you, I’m not working today.

- What the fuck do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?

- Actually, yes.

- Are you kidding me?

- You have about 8 minutes before start date, you really wanna find that out?

Bucky couldn’t even get his mother to watch Sadie, she was busy with some coffee/tea social which she’d rather die than miss out on. He groaned, before getting on his knees, looking up at the au pair that he paid to look after his daughter. When did she gather this amount of power over him?

- Y/N, I am begging you, please get Sadie down and ready for school.

- Of course, Sergeant Barnes. - she uncrossed her arms, walking around him as if he wasn’t on his knees for someone younger than him with less social standing.

She, on the other hand, couldn’t help but smirk at what she’d managed to do. She didn’t think he would actually go down on his knees, she’d expected him to maybe yell and swear and eventually she would’ve ended up doing it merely for Sadie’s sake. Yet, there had he been, on his knees, begging for her help. So much for someone who threatened her job. She’d like to see him try it after today.

- Sadie. - Y/N knocked on her bedroom door, slowly and softly opening the door. - Come on, squid. It’s school time.

- No. - she replied, continuing to play with her toys.

- Oh, don’t think you have much of a choice there, squid. - Y/N opened the two year old’s wardrobe, grabbing her uniform, some socks and her shoes followed by her backpack and placed it in her bed. - You don’t need to be afraid of anyone hurting you anymore. I took care of it.

- No.

- Oh, alright. - Y/N lowered down to her level, pulling her up the ground and putting her on the bed next to the clothes. - We’ll do it like this. You either choose to put on your clothes or you choose not to watch Bluey for a week. What’s it gonna be?

- No.

- No was not one of the options I gave you, squid. Hate to do that to you, but you gotta pick one.

She begrudgingly choose to get dressed, giving a look to Y/N which she hoped would scare her but had no effect. Y/N was used to the little tantrums Sadie put whenever something didn’t go her way and she found that the best way to deal with it was ignoring it. It seemed to work with her father as he equally choose to give Y/N scary looks. She was a professional at dealing with Barnes’ tantrums by now.

- That was a good choice, Sadie. - Y/N helped her fix her hair, grabbing one of her hairbands as doing anything else was much too laborious.

- Don’t want other mummy.

Oh.

So that was it. It wasn’t Michelle’s kid. It was Anna.

- I know, squid. - she caressed her face. - I know but she wants to meet you. You don’t have to do anything else other than meet her.

- Don’t you love me anymore?

- No, Sadie. - she brought the two year old closer to her. - There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you. You’re my favourite, you know that.

- Then why do I need another mummy?

- Because I’m not your mother, darling. You need to give your mum a chance, right? Everyone deserves a chance.

- Ok but I’m not gonna like her.

- Take your time, yeah? It means a lot to your dad if you meet her. I know you don’t want you but can you do it for daddy? Make him happy?

- No.

- What about for me? Will you do it for me? - why her heart was hurting she wasn’t sure. Although Bucky had put it in an aggressive manner he was right. Y/N wasn’t Sadie’s mum and while she had her thoughts about Anna, it was still Anna’s right to meet Sadie and maybe it was for the best.

Sadie pondered about it for a second, her face contorting into a confused expression before she ultimately nodded her head. Y/N merely smiled at her, kissing her forehead before guiding her out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

- Now you go and you have a great day. - Y/N helped her put on her backpack. - I’ll be waiting here for you when you’re back and we’ll play whatever you want.

- Promise?

- I promise.

(...)

To say Bucky was nervous was an understatement. The driver had been late to pick him up and now he was here ten minutes after the time he’d wanted to be here. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure he could feel his chest start to bruise. He’d been waiting for this day for a very long time, he’d always thought about it, how it would be when Sadie got to meet her mother. He’d always had ideas of how it would go and now as he stood in the cafe, sat next to his daughter who has happily eating her donut. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten here so early then he wouldn’t have had to deal with the constant looking at the clock, watching as it moved slower than a snail. God, this was hard.

The minutes continued to go by, 5 turned in ten, ten turned into twenty and twenty turned into forty. Anna was now officially twenty minutes late. His brain rationalised that she was probably caught up in a meeting, one can hardly control clients as a lawyer and Bucky himself knew how much meetings stretched and how traffic in New York was a pain. His phone buzzed on his pocket, she was probably telling him she was on her way but as his screen lit up, the narrative was a complete different one.

I’m sorry.

His heart dropped and so did his phone on the table. She said she’d be here, she said she wanted to meet Sadie, she said she was ready to meet Sadie. She said ... he didn’t know anymore, he didn’t know and soon enough the nerves turned into anger as he slammed money on the table before hurriedly guiding Sadie back to the car.

- Take us to Samson & Brothers please. - he told his driver as he buckled Sadie’s chair.

His mind was spinning faster than a spinning wheel, a mix of anger and disappointment. He could almost hear Y/N laughing at him, what she had warned him about just having happened. Yet, at the same time, the anger that he gathered against Anna over the year was back and in full fledge. He really thought she couldn’t have done worse than having left Sadie on his door step. He was wrong.

- Can you watch Sadie for a couple of minutes, Stan? I’ll pay you extra.

- That’s ok, Sergeant Barnes. We’ll have fun, won’t we Miss Sadie?

- I’ll be back, doll. - he kissed his daughter’s forehead.

He was mad. Actually scratch that, he was furious. He hadn’t gone after Anna, he hadn’t begged her to be Sadie’s mum. She’s the one who went to his office, she’s the one who asked him to meet his daughter. And he ... and now he realised how much of a naive fool he’d been. He should’ve taken things slower. Now Sadie knew, now his 2 year old knew just how much her mother didn’t care about her. His anger was the only thing who kept him walking despite Anna’s secretary begging and telling him not go into her office, yet, he didn’t care. He could buy the building if she didn’t let him in and he could bribe the security guards if they tried anything.

- Sergeant Barnes, please. She’s in a meeting, she’ll see you in a few minutes.

- I don’t give a fuck. - he opened the door to Anna’s office, clearly interrupting a meeting between her and a few other associates. - Anna, outside. Now.

- I’m in a middle of a meeting, Bucky.

- Great. Now you’re having a meeting with me. - he entered her office as if he owned it, arms crossed with a mood that was not to be played with.

- Bucky, we’ll talk after I’m done.

- No, we’re gonna talk now. That’s what you did to me yesterday wasn’t it?

She sighed, forcing a smile to her associates followed by an apology, yet she reckoned no one wanted to be left alone with Bucky. Not when he was in this mood. Anna accompanied the men to the door, before shutting it and looking at Bucky with the most annoyed face ever. As if she had the right to be annoyed.

- You can’t just barge into my office and demand to see me, Barnes. Are you crazy?

- You promised me, Anna. You promised me you’d show up.

- I’m sorry. - she sighed. - I really am sorry, Bucky, but I can’t do this.

- She’s 2, I hardly think she’s hard to impress. Just tell her you like Bluey or that her hair looks nice.

- Bucky, I don’t want to be a mother.

- If you don’t want to be a mother why did you want to meet her then? She’s two years old, Anna. Two. She doesn’t understand things. Heck, I don’t understand you.

- I thought I needed to tell her, that I needed to apologise to her for not being her mother but I ... I just can’t.

- Oh trust me, I’m sure she knows that you don’t want to be her mother considering you did not show.

- Oh cut me some fucking slack, James. You act as if you wanted to be a father.

- I didn’t want to be a father but when a baby, my baby, is dropped in front of my door, tough fucking luck, Anna.

- I have apologised to you countless times about that. I was scared and I was young ...

- Oh shut up. - he interrupted her. - You were 36 when she was born, Anna. You weren’t some teenager who had a prom night baby, you knew fucking better.

- I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry but I had just had a kid I didn’t want, I’d just have a baby and you didn’t know and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to give her away with you knowing her first, I thought you were at least worth that. I’m sorry, I really am but I’m not cut out to be a mother. You know that.

- I thought I wasn’t cut out to be a father either yet here I am.

- I know, Bucky, I know. I know but you’re a father and you’re great, but I still don’t want to be a mother. I don’t have it, I don’t want it, I don’t want a family, it’s not what I want. It’s never what I wanted.

- You’re a fucking coward, Anna. You didn’t care, you don’t care, and you ... fuck, just meet her. Just see her, I don’t care if you’re there all the time but just hang out with her once a month, I don’t ...

- I know you want a mother for Sadie. - she interrupted him. - But that’s not me. I gave birth to her and that’s all, Bucky. I thought that maybe I should tell her but I don’t want to make it more complicated than it is. I’m sorry I can’t be her mother.

- You know what Anna? That better be your fucking final choice because if you ever change your mind, you better fucking have a good lawyer because as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.

He didn’t know what else to do. How was he gonna explain it to Sadie? I’m sorry Sadie but your mum only wanted to see you to tell you she didn’t want to be your mother? How was she even ever gonna get over this? It was hard enough as it was. He fumbled the bag, he fumbled the bag really bad. God, he’d even let his driver watch over his daughter. What kind of father was he any way? A lousy one. A lousy father.

He made his way outside the building, standing by the door as he saw Y/N standing there, holding Sadie against her hip.

- You’re here.

- She needed me.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #bucky x you #bucky/you #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #dad!bucky barnes

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piggyinthesea · 10 months

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Why Do You Look At Her?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader , Steve Rogers x Reader (implied)

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, hinted love triangle, cursing, hickeys, jealousy, foreplay, hickey kink, slight insecurity (bucky)

Fuck Marry Kill?

It was pretty usual of Tony to throw charity parties. It seemed almost routine at this point getting ready for them. The sparkly dresses, make-up usage, and occasionally hair curlers were all things part of the ritual.

“Fuck!” You yelp at the fuming curler wand that scarred your skin with an ugly purple burn with hints of blue on your neck. You knew it was gonna be cliché to have to explain yourself to the others that it was in fact a burn, not a hickey and they most definitely wouldn’t believe an inch of it. You contemplated covering it with makeup, but you weren’t a rookie against heat burns and you knew that would just further damage your skin even more. So be it, if it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped.

Finally done with your hair and makeup, you slipped into your gorgeous sparkly maroon dress. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Skin tight, breasts lifted, and it hugged your curves in all the right places. You were definitely going to thank Tony for this one.

One Hour Later

You finally arrived to the charity, making your way towards the only person you knew there. If only Wanda and Natasha didn’t take so long to get ready.

“You look wonderful, dear. Might just take you from Bucky.” Steve said, pulling himself away from the group he was chatting with prior.

You tilted your head back and let out a chuckle, “Oh stop. You know you love him too much to do that.”

“Why don’t you guys admit you’re together, everybody knows it, and it looks like he’s already gotten to you.” He smirks, glancing at the purple bruise on your neck.

“We’re not like that, and for the record this is a burn, as you can tell by my curls. Doesn’t take a spy to figure out I burned my hair with the curling iron.” Glancing at the tower filled with millionaires, you tried scouring the crowds for a sign of Bucky yet he was no where to be found.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re single?” Pried Steve, subconsciously taking a step closer.

“Is who single?” Said a voice that emerged from the backs of you both.

“Bucky!” You excitedly turn around and give your dear friend a hug. You failed to notice the look Bucky gave to Steve. If Bucky could, he’d hug you back instantly though his hands were occupied by two glasses of pristine champagne. The scent of his strong cologne reminded you of the ocean which you always loved because it reminded you of fond memories when you were a child. When he asked you if he should go for the deep forest or ocean cologne, you picked ocean. It was Tony’s suggestion to come with matching outfits. You with a maroon dress and Bucky with a maroon tuxedo. Maroon definitely suited him.

“I’ll leave you guys alone.” Steve awkwardly says, a cute smile placed on his face as he heads towards Tony and strikes up a conversation.

Bucky hands you a golden champagne glass. It’s contents appeared almost physically sparkly, you knew instantly the champagne would be marvelous. After all, this is a charity held by Tony Stark. Bucky raised his glass to you and the two of you clinked your glasses and took a drink.

“So, you and Steve?” Bucky says, attempting to hint at the obvious closeness of you and Steve, while also indirectly hinting at the evident mark on your neck. Though he was too busy looking anywhere but your face, you scrunched up your face in discontent.

“No, Steve and I aren’t like that. And since I know you’re dying to ask no, this isn’t a hickey. Let’s go to the minibar?” You say, attempting to quickly pass by this conversation. You were not going to have this conversation with Bucky.

He turns, finally giving you a full look. Instinctively, you stepped in front of him, fixing the crooked tie. He looked down at you, watching as you helped straighten his tie out and though it was only for a second, he did not miss the way your eyes sparkled as you looked back up at him.

5 glasses of champagne and 3 margaritas later…

“Okay, Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Steve, Me, and Tony.” Bucky says, so obviously drunk with his slurred words and pale face.

You giggled, “You’re such a child. Okay, Okay, give me a second, my world is spinning. Fuck Steve, Marry You, and dear god please don’t let Tony hear this but, kill Tony.”

“Wow. You would fuck Steve, but not me? I’m truly hurt. I’m gonna go into a deep depression. ” Bucks jokingly, putting his head down attempting to appear ‘depressed’ . “I mean, the guy gets a serum and all of a sudden he’s a big macho man. Well I’ve been the macho man for centuries even before him! Where’s my recognition?” He mumbles into the table.

“But, if we’re married we’d be able to fuck anytime, with Steve it’d just be a one time thing.” You whisper into his ears, almost falling off your seat trying to get closer to him.

“Ah! You’re right. So Steve’s not better than me!” He lifts up his head, his eyes sparkling with victory.

A hoarse voice calls out from behind, “Oh, I am so better than you.”

You turn back at the blue eyed blondie who seems to enjoy hitting into peoples conversations. You’ve taken notice how well his deep navy tux looked on him. You never had any appeal to Rogers but you’d be a fool to not find attractive in his suit. . “I’m heading to the restroom, don’t have to much fun without me.” You say, an overwhelming urge to pee taking over you. Perhaps you had a little too much to drink tonight.

The two men looked as you walked away, carefully admiring the way the dark maroon sequins glistened under the fancy lighting of the tower. They didn’t dare to miss the way your hips swayed with each step almost elegantly. “Why do you stare at her?” Bucky asked with the utmost curiosity and almost hurt expression.

“I don’t stare at her.” Steve looks back at his friend defensively.

“You like her.” Bucky concludes, an urge to hear his friend admit the feelings he so desperately wants to bury. For what reasons? He’s unsure. Maybe to hurt his own feelings.

“I don’t, Bucky. You know I love Peggy. Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink.” Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh, as he begins to dwell in his own thoughts. He doesn’t like you. His heart belonged belongs to Peggy.

“Alright then. I’m going to my room. Maybe I did have too much to drink.” Unconvinced and irritated, he begins to walk away. That was the last thing Steve wanted him to do. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts.

During the walk to the corridors, he bumps into you. “Oh hey! You heading up? Guess I will too.” You say, noticing the weird expression on his face. Usually you’d be able to read him, but this time he has an expression on his face he hasn’t shown before.

It took about 3 minutes for the elevator to come down and go back up towards the room corridors and the both of you headed towards Bucky’s room. The corridors were filled with different rooms, each of them having a gold plate on the door with a different name. You passed by yours first, then Falcons, and finally you’ve gotten to Bucky’s. It was nothing strange, you’ve been to his room plenty of times. The two of you are almost always watching movies together. You kicked off your heels and mated down on his large and frankly not very comfortable bed. His room was pretty simple, it consisted of a grey headboard bed in the middle, a mahogany night stand by the corner, a drawer with a large mirror, and a restroom that directed into a large marble bathtub with a rainfall shower.

He aimlessly stared into the wall, almost as if something was on his mind. “What’s wrong?” You ask, you’ve never seen him like this and it was beginning to worry you.

He turned to you. His bright blue eyes looked pleading, as if his soul was attempting to reach yours when suddenly he kissed you. Instinctively, you kissed back allowing your tongue to explore his mouth as you positioned yourself on top of him. His hands roamed through your curves, squeezing your waist and coming back up to pull your hair. Within seconds the kiss became heated and your body ached for more. He flipped you under and took off his blazer and collared shirt which revealed his chiseled abs. You felt yourself becoming wetter with each second you stared. Sadly, it was cut short as Bucky began sucking on your neck, careful to not touch the side where you’ve dumbly burned.

You let out a moan, “Please.”

“Please what?” Bucky rasps out, completely hard. The effect you had on him was unlike any other women. You completely and easily had him wrapped around your finger without you knowing it. The moment you helped him out of a dark nightmare that night, he knew he could never let go of you. With each day that had passed where he had not kissed you, a little part of him died. He knew when his best friend caught feelings for Peggy. He definitely knew it too when he saw the way he looked at you earlier.

“Please touch me.” The request was simple, yet a little embarrassing. It was definitely not in your nature to beg. But for Bucky? You’d beg a million times.

It was as if he was possessed by some speed demon because in no time, you were completely out of your dress and almost fully unclothed except for the black lace panties you had on. You tugged on his belt, wanting him to be equally as vulnerable which he obediently took off with his pants. He spread your legs wide, toying with one of your nipples as he inserted a finger in you.

The ache of pleasure in your stomach was overbearing. You wanted to be closer to Bucky. As he began moving his finger’s pace he lightly twisted your nipple, “Why do you talk to Steve so much?” He shamelessly asks, jealousy reeking from him which he had no desire to cover up. Your moans filled the room as he added another finger.

“I don’t.” He twists your nipple slightly harder which earns a louder moan from you. “Please I just want you. Give me all of you.” You pleaded. His fingers were pleasurable but his cock would be so much better.

“Say you don’t want Steve.” He says removing his boxers and finally lining himself at your entrance.

“I don’t want him. I never did. Please just fuck me, Bucky.” Your stomach twirled with anticipation, excitement, and pleasure. Without warning he pushed his whole length into you, and immediately you let a loud almost pornagraphic moan. Your walls stinger with pain and pleasure yet you still wanted more. Bucky began a slow pace quickly turning brutal as his ears filled with your moans. The moans he’s causing.

You pulled his hair as you were chest to chest. Bucky groaned, “Doll, you feel so good. You’re so gorgeous.” He quickened his pace if that was possible, when he felt your nails digging into his back. He began sucking on your breasts, as if he were a starving dog. There would definitely be bruising tomorrow all over your chest. He lowered one of his hands down to your clit and began rubbing the pads of his fingers in circles. A burning hot sensation filled your body, if he continued like this you would be done for.

“B-Bucky. Don’t stop I’m close.” You moaned, the heat suddenly becoming overwhelming. You knew he was close by the way his thrusts began to falter. With a pinch of your clit, you moaned out in pleasure and came on his cock. With a final thrust he came inside you, his cum adding warmth to your walls while leaking out. He collapsed to your side, and you pulled him in for a kiss. You pulled his hair a little, sucked on his neck long enough for there to be a bruise in the morning and finally asked him, “Why’d you bring up Steve?”

“I think he likes you.” He says, not wanting to look back to you. You turned his head, and kissed him again “Guess I’ll just have to explain I like his best friend more.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.” He says heading to the restroom inside his room. Shortly after, he came back with a damp cloth in his hand.

Notes: So this is my first fan fic, please feel free to leave any suggestions in the comments. If there are any typos please point them out so I can correct them <3

Don’t know if there will be a part 2 buttt let me know if you guys would want one! I feel bad for Steve lol

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #buckycangetdrunk #jealous!bucky #steve rogers x reader #tony stark #love triangle #winter soldier x reader

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months

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Kiss Me If You Can || Part 3

Character: Bucky Barnes x Thief!Reader

Words Count: 1,830

Part 1,- Part 2, Part 3,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Feeling awkward after Bucky's last words, Y/N returned the diamond necklace to the snobbish millionaire Richard a few days later.

Furious and humiliated, Richard, desperate to catch the phantom thief, opted to use the media instead of calling the police, tarnishing his name.

Enraged that now everyone knew of the phantom thief, Bucky sought out Steve, whom he hadn't seen in a long time. Since Steve became a judge and Bucky got promoted, it’s difficult for them to meet.

Bucky cut to the chase at the coffee shop and told Steve, “Your sister is the phantom thief.”

Steve glanced at his friend but remained unresponsive.

Arms crossed, Bucky pressed, “So, you already knew?”

Steve sighed. “It's not something I should be proud of. Did you expect me to call you and announce that my sister became a thief?”

Bucky rested his arm on the table and leaned closer. “What's her reason?”

Steve didn't look directly at Bucky. He poured sugar into his coffee, “You know our grandmother was completely biased toward Y/N because of her acrobatic skills, right?”

Bucky nodded, familiar with Steve's family dynamics. “Your grandmother is a famous circus producer.”

Remembering their grandparents, adventurous on one side and a librarian on the other, Bucky couldn't help but draw parallels to his own relationship with Y/N.

Sipping his coffee, Steve explained, “When my grandmother died, she left a letter and a key for Y/N. After that, she joined my grandmother's circus and traveled worldwide.”

“Let me guess, that led her to become the phantom thief.”

Steve nodded, “Hmm.”

Bucky went silent for a while. He tapped the table with his fingers, “I don’t think you completely ignored Y/N, Steve. The reason you became a judge is to help her if she got into trouble.”

Steve didn't rebuke.

“You’re a good brother, Steve. But still, what she did is wrong. I need to get her before anyone else.”

Concerned for his sister's safety, Steve pleaded, “I don’t know where she is. If you catch her, and I hope you do, please don’t let her escape.”

Bucky nodded.

Steve asked concern etched on his face, "After learning the truth, do you still like my sister?" His eyes held a mixture of worry and hope, reflecting his complex emotions for his best friend and sister.

Without any hesitation, Bucky answered, “I don't want anyone else.”

Steve sipped his coffee, a hidden smile behind the cup. He was glad his best friend cared for Y/N even after learning the truth.

“She will come to the challenge. I’m sure both of you will meet again.”

The day arrived. Richard made the challenge at his house, surrounded by police and media. Arriving with his secretary, Richard proudly showed off the jewelry and set a trap to catch the phantom thief.

Bucky infuriated with Richard, “You're risking everyone's safety for your own amusement! You fool!”

Richard scoffed, leaving Bucky with some choice words before departing rudely.

The female secretary, standing beside Bucky, stayed silent. “Smile for the camera, Bucky.”

Bucky scowled, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Y/N in her phantom thief disguise. "You have the nerve to show up, Y/N."

Y/N smirked, "Someone has to put the snobby man in his place."

Bucky crossed his arms, maintaining a cold demeanor. "Breaking into houses and stealing jewels isn't the way to do it."

"Ah, but it's so much more thrilling, don't you think? Keeps the wealthy on their toes." Y/N pulled and took off her button-shirt that almost showed her bra string.

Bucky shook his head, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Bucky turns his head away “What are you doing?”

“His own secretary gives this disguise. While I’m here, she’s taking a break.”

Y/N's gaze held a glint of mischief. "That's why you can't resist chasing after me, isn't it, Bucky?"

"Well, I prefer a bit more mystery," she replied, her tone teasing.

Bucky leaned in, a sly grin playing on his lips. "If you're after something valuable, you don't need to break into places. I'm right here and come with my own set of perks."

Y/N, caught off guard by Bucky's bold remark, felt a heat rising to her cheeks. She stammered for a moment, momentarily speechless. Regaining her composure, she shot him a sly smile.

"But I'll keep that tempting offer in mind. Enjoy the show, Bucky." With that, she gracefully slipped away, leaving Bucky with a mixture of surprise and anticipation lingering in the air.

As the orchestration of the heist unfolded, Y/N seamlessly moved through the shadows, her every move a calculated dance—the target: Richard's prized family heirloom, a breathtaking diamond necklace.

The opulence of the mansion provided a stark contrast to the clandestine mission she embarked upon.

Silently disarming security systems and slipping through laser grids, Y/N reached the grand display room. The diamond necklace glittered within its ornate glass case, a captivating prize that promised wealth and a challenge that fueled her adrenaline.

With nimble fingers, she skillfully bypassed the intricate lock mechanism, and the coveted necklace was now in her possession. The thrill of the heist coursed through her, a heady mixture of triumph and exhilaration.

However, the mansion had secrets, and Y/N's escape triggered secondary security measures. Alarms blared, casting an ominous red hue across the room.

Unbeknownst to her, a concealed security detail sprang into action. The night echoed with the sharp report of a gunshot.

The bullet grazed her leg, leaving a searing pain in its wake. Despite the injury, Y/N pressed on. The wound, a mere scrape from the bullet, throbbed with each movement.

As Y/N navigated the escape route, the pain from the leg injury slowed her down, bringing her dangerously close to capture. The distant sound of approaching footsteps heightened the tension.

Just when it seemed like the end, Bucky appeared from the shadows, a silent savior in the night.

His strong arm wrapped around Y/N, and he guided her through the labyrinthine alleys. Their hurried footsteps echoed the urgency of the moment.

Y/N, wincing from the pain, glanced at Bucky, her eyes revealing a mix of gratitude and surprise.

Maintaining his stoic demeanor, Bucky muttered, "You really know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you?"

Y/N smiled teasingly, "Well, where would the fun be if I didn't?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. It’s not the time to make a joke.

In the dimly lit room, Bucky brought Y/N to his place to tend to her injury, but she insisted that the wound was nothing to worry about. Gently placing her down, he uttered a stern "Be good," an order that caught Y/N off guard and made her blush. The Bucky she used to know seemed to have transformed into a grown man.

She recalled his earlier words, "Next time I catch you, you won't be leaving my bed."

The desire to leave crossed her mind. However, Bucky, sensing her hesitation, caught her arms and urged her to stay. His worry for her safety was evident; he knew Richard had hired an expert to catch the phantom thief, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone harming Y/N.

Amid the tension, Bucky decided to lay the truth bare, "Y/N, you need to understand. Richard has hired someone to catch the phantom thief, and they're professionals. I can't let you go out there and get hurt."

Looking into his eyes, Y/N detected a mixture of concern and genuine care, "Bucky, I appreciate your concern, but I've handled worse situations before. I can take care of myself."

Bucky sighed, holding her arms firmly, "This is different, Y/N. They're not playing around. I can't stand by and let something happen to you."

Y/N, realizing the depth of his worry, softened her expression, "Bucky, I've been doing this for a while. I know how to handle situations.”

Bucky's expression shifted, torn between his duty and his feelings, "That doesn't mean I want you risking your life like this."

The air in the room crackled with unspoken tension after their banter. The adrenaline from the daring escape lingered between Bucky and Y/N, creating a charged atmosphere. Bucky couldn't help but notice how Y/N looked at him, a mixture of amusement and more.

Amidst the charged silence, Y/N couldn't resist a teasing comment, "You're so fucking adorable."

Her words hung in the air, adding to the palpable tension. Feeling the moment's weight, Bucky leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss against Y/N's lips. The sensation was electrifying, and it left both of them breathless.

Y/N, her cheeks flushed, broke the silence with a playful yet earnest remark, "Kiss me like that again, and I'm going to think you really love me."

Bucky, caught off guard by the admission, looked into her eyes with a newfound vulnerability, "I've been in love with you since I was a kid."

Y/N blushed, the realization sinking in, and the room became charged with a different kind of tension that had been lingering for years and was now impossible to ignore.

********

As the night deepened, Bucky and Y/N were enveloped in a quiet intimacy that transcended the day's events. In the softly lit room, there was a quiet understanding between them, a safe place where the burdens of their lives felt lighter for a while.

Y/N lay beside Bucky, her breathing soft and steady, the rhythmic melody of slumber weaving through the air. Bucky, captivated by the moment, couldn't help but be drawn to her.

With a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingertips lingering on her cheek. Bucky couldn't resist the urge to lean in in the stillness, pressing a feather-light kiss to Y/N's forehead.

*********

The following day, Bucky slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see Y/N beside him. To his mild disappointment, the space next to him was empty. A flicker of worry crossed his face as he glanced around the room, hoping she hadn't left.

With a soft sigh, Bucky got up and headed to the living area. As he entered, he caught the aroma of a delicious breakfast that had been prepared, and his favorite dishes were neatly arranged on the table.

A smile touched his lips; it seemed Y/N remembered even the most minor details about him.

His eyes then fell upon a small letter on the table with a smiley face. Bucky picked it up, unfolding it to reveal the words, "Thank You, Bucky."

But it wasn't just the gratitude that caught his attention; Y/N had written something more behind the letter.

"You're not a bad kisser, Barnes. Keep that in mind for our next encounter. - Y/N"

As Bucky read the playful note, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He will keep chasing Y/N without any question since she's the thief who stole his heart.

Join the taglist? 💙💙💙💙

@ordelixx

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buckymorelikefuckme · 1 year

Text

how to marry a millionaire masterlist

**ON HIATUS**

mafia bucky x spoiled brat reader

summary: being pampered and given everything you want is second nature to you. when you meet james barnes, a mysterious man with a dangerous aura, you find that he can do it best, and you don't plan on letting him go anytime soon.

a/n: it grew legs and took off running. please read the warnings on each chapter.

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes x spoiled brat reader

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

A Million Reasons - Two

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: General conflicting feelings, rude Bucky is protective??

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Writing this relationship is so funnn!!! Let me know what you think! I really appreciate your feedback :))

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Physics was—arguably—the worst subject known to man. If it were up to you, the topic would never be breached in conversation and you would never be around anyone that would even consider uttering the words centripetal force. Your days would be easy and calm, full of plant biology and algae samples.

Unfortunately, life wasn’t always up to you, and you had left your most undesirable elective for your senior year. That meant that you had to sit in a physics lecture every Tuesday and Thursday and try to keep the tears at bay.

At least Wanda was in the class with you. She wasn’t much help—she always seemed to ace the tests even though she spent the majority of class online shopping—but it was nice to have someone sit beside you while you spiraled. When you wanted a distraction from the endless equations, you could always glance over at the shoes she was adding to her cart.

A nice, well-deserved break if you asked your roommate.

“It’s been about a week with Barnes,” Wanda murmured as the influx of students slowly trickled into the lecture hall. “Anything interesting happen?”

You breathed out a laugh, scrolling through your notes from the last lecture. “If by interesting you mean annoying, then yes. It’s been days and I’ve heard endless phone conversations about trashed penthouses and extra liquor.”

“I don’t know why you don’t make him work. It’s what he’s there for.”

“Wanda,” you exasperated, turning in your seat. “I’ve told you, it’s supposed to be my space. I’ve been looking forward to this project for years. I don’t need him coming in and messing things up.”

“He would just be cleaning,” she argued, the delicate lithe of her accent almost reprimanding.

You quietly groaned. “Fine, would you like to be the one to boss around a millionaire? Because I certainly wouldn’t. It would probably be like pulling teeth and I’m already at my wits end trying to gain funding for my project. I don’t need the extra stress of micromanaging a man that’s never picked up a paper towel before.”

“You didn’t have any problems bossing him around when you shoved him in that corner.”

You rolled your eyes in place of a response, flicking your gaze up to the doors by the chalkboard with just enough time to catch none other than Bucky Barnes walking through them. Was he even in this class? It was already a month into the semester and, sure, the lecture hall was always packed, but you would have heard whispers on the first day if he had walked in.

He was laughing and playfully knocking his shoulder into the guy next to him, completely ignoring the stares he was definitely receiving from the rest of the room. You bit the inside of your cheek when his nose scrunched up and tried to tune out of the sound of his voice when he chimed into the conversation.

“I’d boss him around for sure.”

“Wanda!” you chided, lightly hitting her arm.

She held her hands out in front of her with a small shake of her head. “What? He is pretty, what do you want me to say?”

“Have you ever seen him in this lecture before?”

“Hmm, no,” she hummed. “But I wouldn’t put it past him not to show up until now. Maybe he knows the professor.”

You leaned back in your seat with a small huff, crossing your arms as Bucky made his way to the front podium. Where he shook the professor's hand—obviously. It wasn’t even worth a laugh at this point; with all of the outlandish conversations you’d overheard in the last few days, you’d believe that Bucky Barnes could get away with absolutely anything.

That didn’t keep the small flicker of vexation from licking up in your chest, however. Because of course Bucky was in the class you were drowning in and of course he was going to get an A from the professor currently clapping a fond hand over his shoulder. Maybe you would make him work in the greenhouse today, just to act on some of the irritation you felt.

“He’s looking at you,” Wanda whispered, leaning over to bump your shoulder.

Your gaze immediately left the ceiling to meet Bucky’s annoyingly blue eyes. A hint of a smile still lit up the corners and he was looking at you—directly at you, actually. But he didn’t wave and he definitely didn’t call out a greeting. He didn’t acknowledge your distant acquaintanceship at all. Instead, he turned his head just as soon as you looked his way, following his friend up the steps to take a seat in one of the rows.

A prickle of disbelief found its way under your skin, irking you as you thought back to the few times in the greenhouse when he wouldn’t stop acknowledging your presence. Like yesterday, for example, when you watering the plants was apparently much more interesting than his phone.

“Do you mind not staring at me,” you asked, malice threatening to take over your tone.

“Give me something better to do then,” Bucky replied haughtily.

You held in a groan, turning to meet his gaze that was once glued to the side of your face. He had his legs spread open and his arms supporting him as he sat atop an almost empty table—definitely not the stool you had provided for him and definitely not where he was supposed to be.

“It’s not my job to entertain you,” you snapped. “You know how this works by now.”

Bucky raised a brow, his backward baseball cap shifting up with the motion. “Well, sorry.” He flung a hand up in surrender. “Didn’t realize my eyes had to be closed the entire time I was in here.”

“Stop being an ass and just go back on your phone or something.”

As if on cue, a phone went off. Obviously yours if the embarrassing, personalized ringtone Peter had set to his contact told you anything. Your face heated in embarrassment, the fire behind your eyes dimming as Bucky’s smirk only grew.

“Think your phone’s ringing, daisy.”

You pressed your lips together and and went to reach for the offending item, but Bucky had a clear view of it as it lay face-up on the table. You locked it and declined the call—silently cursing Peter—as Bucky kicked off the table, his feet now flat on the ground.

“Peter,” he hummed. “That your boyfriend or something?”

Your face got hotter, somehow, the warmth trailing down to your neck. “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

“Just tryna get to know you.”

He was unbearably close at this point, and you found yourself clutching the watering can tighter as he loomed over you. But you stood your ground—or tried to, at least—when he smiled and cocked his head to the side, tucking his hands into his pockets with a seamless ease.

“If I answer you, will you leave me alone?” you gritted out.

He flitted his gaze between your eyes; up to your angry brow and down to your frown. “Maybe for today,” he conceded. “Don’t know about tomorrow.”

So yeah, it was a bit odd—and frustrating—when Bucky walked right past you in this lecture hall after making it his personal goal to get on your nerves. You wanted to trip him as he meandered up the stairs to find somewhere to sit, but you missed your opportunity because he finally did find a row.

The one directly behind yours.

You could almost feel Wanda’s snickering from beside you.

“Either of you ladies know which chapter the prof’s covering today?” a deep baritone voice asked from behind you. Not Bucky’s, but you wouldn’t have turned either way. You left that up to Wanda.

“We’re reviewing a quiz today,” she replied with a small smile as she glanced over her shoulder. “Then chapter seven.”

You kept your eyes glued to the notes on your laptop, feeling a burning on the back of your head. That burn was amplified when a smooth, familiar voice echoed in your ears.

“Damn, Wilson. Looks like we’re a little behind, aren’t we?” Bucky joked, and Wanda offered him a laugh.

“Not to worry, I’m sure we could share some notes with you.” Wanda motioned between the two of you.

You titled your neck to the side to widen your eyes at her, trying to convey a few choice words to the redhead. The professor had started to fire up the projector at the front of the room, and the quieting class was making the task that much harder.

You raised your brows… she shook her head. You sighed and splayed your hands on your knees… she simply shrugged and gave you a gentle smile. Was she trying to make your life harder?

You were interrupted before you could brush your hair back in frustration. “You have some nice notes, sweetheart,” Bucky observed, his breath almost fanning your neck as he leaned forward to look at your computer. “Think you could send ‘em to us?”

The fluttering in your stomach felt like betrayal. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath to combat the anger-laced emotions battling for dominance within you, completely ignoring the subtle, warm pine that was invading your senses. He shifted in his seat and his jacket brushed your shoulder. You snapped your head back instantly.

“What, starting from week one? Think that ship has just about sailed,” you replied, sarcasm clear in your feigned grin.

His small smirk grated at your nerves, and he didn’t lean back, even with your face now inches from his own. “Help a poor guy out?”

You narrowed your eyes, unsure what kind of game he was trying to play. Your days in the greenhouse were filled with little conversation, but the times you actually did respond to one of his many questions, the interactions were fleeting. And you liked it that way—preferred it.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to prefer trying to make you miserable. He asked you things you knew he didn’t really care about and poked at plants he shouldn’t be. He talked on the phone loud enough to shake the windows and lingered behind your stool close enough that you were able to feel his presence.

And then he showed up to your physics lecture after apparently ditching for an entire month, pretended he’d never met you before, and then requested your notes.

You could scream.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a fake remorse. “I don’t like to share notes with strangers.”

His brows shot up in surprise, a flicker of amusement lighting up his features. His jaw flexed into a smile as he bit into his gum, and he raised his hands as he sat back in his seat, conceding from the stare-off you two seemed to be having. His friend teased him while you turned back around, but you missed the exchange with the blood still thumping in your ears.

“That was so romantic,” Wanda whispered beside your ear.

The glare you sent her was acidic.

The greenhouse felt more chaotic at night.

In the morning, there was a serene calmness to the space, a warm sun filtering in and a warmth that you welcomed after the brisk walk from your car. There weren’t many voices beyond the walls since most students were still asleep, and sometimes you could hear birds sing through the flimsy windows.

At night, that was all shot. Leftover heat from the day made you more irritated and the botanical garden by the house was usually full of people. You always a had a full day of classes, so not only were you overheated and annoyed, but you were tired as well. And to make matters worse, Bucky was on another phone call.

Your eye twitched when he let out a rambunctious laugh, the sound startling you and making you jostle the plant you were measuring. The urge to throttle him briefly entered your mind, but you banished it just as quickly; violence was never the answer, even when it really seemed like it should be.

You abandoned the delicate plant, deciding that it would be better tend to it when you weren’t so agitated. The careful steps you took toward your table were each punctuated by another one of Bucky’s words or his laughs, and you considered bringing headphones the next time you had an afternoon with him at the greenhouse.

Your small notebook sat ready for you at the table, the black leather binding worn and cracked up the spine. It was filled with the mountain of ideas you had proposed for your senior project, along with diagrams that you added to your field notes as time went on. It was important, integral to your studies. And it was also full, you learned, as you flipped to your most recent page and found nothing past it.

A groan crept its way up your throat at the inconvenience, and you eyed the box of unused journals on the shelf above your desk. You might not receive the most funding with scholarship money, but the school certainly gave you enough writing materials to last a lifetime.

With one hand pressed to the table, you reached up for the shelf. The attempt was futile; even with your extension, the box of journals was still a good few feet from your fingertips. You sighed, pulling your stool out and wobbling as your shoe fit into the first rung in the legs. It creaked under the new weight and you cringed, praying that it wouldn’t crumble when you stood up all the way.

“Hang on, Steve. I gotta call you back.” You ignored Bucky’s goodbye, just as you did with everything else he said. Until he called out, “The hell are you doing?”

You turned your head in his direction, holding onto the table as the seat wobbled beneath you. Bucky shot his hands out as if to steady you from clear across the room. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m getting that box. Up there.” You pointed, and the stool shook even more.

Bucky’s hurried steps echoed against the walls, getting louder as he knocked over old bags of soil and stepped on crumpled tarps. The long coat he was wearing earlier was hanging over his own chair, and his fitted t-shirt rode up a few inches when he raised his hands up to you.

“Get down,” he insisted. “That thing’s on its last leg as is.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’m going to listen to you. Just go sit, I got it.”

He huffed, his fingers flexing as he kept them in the air, but not touching you. A small sense of satisfaction surged through you at his frustration, probably being one of the few people that consistently told him no. You slipped your shoe out of the rung and placed it flat on the surface of the stool.

“Y/n,” Bucky stressed, eyes going wide as the stool groaned once again.

“Oh, so now you know my name? That’s super interesting because earlier I could’ve sworn that you—”

“Please, just get down,” he pleaded, and you paused, glancing down at his worried expression. “I’ll get the damn box and you can even yell at me while I’m up there, alright?”

You eyed him, tracking up his form with a narrowed slowness before sighing, “Fine. But only because you’re throwing such a fit about it.”

He scoffed, keeping his hands out to offer you a support that you blatantly ignored. He still grabbed your elbow when the stool squeaked again, and you looked down at the contact before snapping your gaze up to his face. His cheeks flushed so faintly you almost missed it, and he then released you.

With your feet back on solid ground, you straightened out your clothes and gave Bucky an expecting look, eyes drifting up to the shelf.

“Okay, I’m getting it,” he grumbled, only he didn’t wait for you to move. He reached up above your head instead, and you were forced to keep your face inches from his broad chest when the table behind you refused to let you escape.

You bit your lip and looked off to the side when he raised his other arm up, clean linen and the musk of his cologne hitting your nose in gentle wisps. He grunted, apparently finding the box heavier than he anticipated, and you pressed the back of your legs so far against the table that it started to hurt. Heat began to boil up onto your face and the journals didn’t seem to be worth it anymore.

Luckily, your torture was short-lived; Bucky hauled the box up over your head and settled it on the ground between you, your sigh of relief probably interpreted for all the wrong reasons as Bucky gave box a small kick.

“There,” he breathed. “And you didn’t even fall to your death.”

You might as well have.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve been fine,” you shot back, pulling the tape back on the cardboard box.

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe that fifty-year-old stool would’ve collapsed and you would’ve ended up in the hospital.”

You laughed to yourself, holding a new notebook to your chest and rising. “And I’m supposed to believe that you would be the one taking me to the hospital?”

Bucky reared back. “Of course I’d take you. You think I would just leave?”

“I think…” you began, rounding the table to set everything back into place after the disruption. “that you pretended not to know me in front of your friend and that you are a very busy guy with lots of obligations. Some girl falling when you only have—” you checked your phone “—an hour left of community service might not be interesting to you.”

His lips parted as you spoke, and he uncrossed his arms from their place over his chest when you finished. You weren’t trying to insult him, but the look on his face spelled the opposite. He took a step toward you, his shoe clicking against old cement.

“You really think I’m that much of an asshole?”

You looked up at him, a piece of you resolve dwindling. “I think you don’t care about things that you don’t want to care about. That you don’t have to. And I’m positive that my well-being is on that list.”

“Look,” he sighed, bringing up a hand to rub his forehead. “I didn’t tell Sam I knew you because none of the guys know I’m doing this.” He waved around the greenroom. “If I said ‘hey’, he would’ve asked where I met you and then I would’ve had to lie.”

“Or you could’ve told the truth since you’re the one that got yourself in this position in the first place.”

“You gonna let me finish?” Bucky posed, sending you a knowing look.

You mumbled out a small fine and crossed your arms.

Bucky looked to be fighting off a smile. “Anyways, I was sort of a dick and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you and show you that I would, in fact, take you to the hospital if you fell to your death.”

“And how do you propose you’ll do that?”

“I’m gonna clean all those spiderwebs from that shelf up there.”

“Oh, so you’re going to make it up to me by doing the community service you were assigned?”

Bucky sent you a hopeless look and shifted on his feet, the few bracelets he wore sliding down on his wrists. You eyed the movement—along with the way his face scrunched up in a plea—and almost tapped your foot on the ground in agitation. He had to know what he was doing; looking at you like that, with those stupid, sad eyes—it had to be some ploy.

But you gave in anyway.

“Fine, but just the shelf,” you clarified. “I don’t need you rearranging the place while I’m trying to work.”

He grinned. “I’ll stay outta your hair, daisy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He was apparently expecting your reprimand, already high up on the table and getting dust all over his designer t-shirt to keep your anger at bay. And it worked, to an extent, so you turned around and went back to your project, this time without the sound of Bucky’s phone conversation for once.

The sky was completely dark by the time you were both finished, you covered in soil and Bucky covered in… maybe dust? You weren’t able to tell. He didn’t complain at all, but you could tell he was tired and ready to never do another chore in the greenhouse again. You couldn’t really blame him; there was a reason you left it so out of order.

“You can head out,” you called to him, your head in one of the many cabinets scattered about. “I’ll sign your paper tomorrow.”

You waited for his response, placing the tools on the shelves and hanging up the apron you wore over your clothes. When nothing came, you poked your head past the door.

“Barnes? I said you can go.”

He still lingered, but now you could see him scrolling through his phone by the door. His coat was slung over her shoulder and his bag was set by his feet. When had he finished? It was well past the time he could leave. You’d probably have to add extra time to his sheet for tomorrow.

You shut the cabinet and shifted its handles back into place, rolling back on your heel with a bit of awkwardness. “James.”

He finally glanced up from his phone. “What time are you out of here?” he asked, avoiding your past statements entirely.

“Uh, just another few minutes? I have to clean up.”

Bucky nodded, crossing his ankles as he leaned back against a wall. You looked around the room aimlessly, bringing your fingers up to twist them in front of your waist. Your throat felt dry when you spoke next.

“You don’t have to, like, stay. Your time is up for the day,” you clarified, feeling more confusion wash through you when he didn’t immediately leave.

Instead, he simply replied, “It’s dark.”

You bit into your bottom lip, stressing the skin and, once again, glancing around the room as if it would have some kind of answer. “Can’t find your way home in the dark?”

“Well I gotta make sure you get to your car, don’t I?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m waiting until you lock up,” he finalized, eyes turning back down to his phone.

You hummed out a low, drawn out okay, and worked to clean up your station, now apparently on a time crunch. You felt that familiar irritation in your chest at Bucky’s persistence, but it was clouded by something else this time. He was being a bit pushy, and his attitude was awfully short for a guy that had only done about an hour’s worth of work, but there was a warmth pulling at the seams of your vexation. And you kind of hated it.

The last drawer of the night slid shut at you fingertips, and you reached below the desk to grab your bag and fish out your keys. Bucky looked relieved at the new sounds, yawning as you pushed the door open with a comfortable silence.

A part of you almost wished he wasn’t here for the next part of your nightly routine. You pulled the handle, hard, and placed your foot against the door as you jammed the key into the lock. It didn’t give at first, so you shook your foot until the mechanism inside lined up perfectly for the closing. It took another try, but when the key finally started to turn, you let out a long sigh.

“What the hell?” Bucky breathed, phone screen now dark as looked over at you.

“You said it yourself on Monday,” you replied, jiggling the handle to check the lock. “The door’s broken. I do this every night, you just usually come in the mornings.”

“Why don’t you ask the department to fix it?”

You walked beside him to the parking lot, laughing a little at how easy he made it seem. “If the department finally agreed to do something for me, the door would be the last thing on my list.”

“I think if you just asked them nicely, maybe they would—”

“Not everyone can just walk into a room and get whatever they want, Barnes. I know that’s a tough concept for you to grasp,” you interrupted, your shoe scuffing against the curb to the asphalt. “Look, just don’t worry about it, alright? It’s just a door.”

He raised his hands in surrender, his phone lighting up as he did so. On the screen was an incoming call from a “Serena”, and the picture that accompanied it made it look like they were pretty well acquainted. Your chest twisted uncomfortably. Bucky noticed your stare and took a look for himself.

“Oh, I gotta go,” he mumbled. He glanced back at you. “You’ll get to your car okay?”

You couldn’t understand why your throat hurt. “Yeah, I’m just right over there.”

He gave you a small smile, unlocking his phone and bidding you a quick goodnight before he jogged off.

Your feet were still rooted in the asphalt as you watched him dig in his pockets for his keys. Your fingers were still looped through your lanyard as you watched him take the call. You snapped out of it when you heard his car start, but only to save yourself from the embarrassment.

Everything Bucky Barnes did annoyed you to no end, but this weird ache in your chest was a new one.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #college!bucky #modern!bucky #bucky barnes #enemies to lovers

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sebstan2020 · 1 year

Text

Territory

Summary: Bucky is the rival of your father’s gang but behind closed doors, you are his sex slave.

Warnings: BDSM, Smut, Dom/Sub, Whipping, Sex, Name calling, Praise kink, Begging, Foot worship, Humiliation, Dom Bucky Barnes

The restaurant was busy for a Wednesday night. Guests filled most of the tables, lit by candles and decorated with a single rose in the middle, placed in a red vase. It was a particularly warm New York evening, so guests were dressed in strappy dresses and shirts without the jacket, a button open at the top to allow some air. The restaurant was one of the highest and most prestige places to fine dine. The three-month waiting list said it all and the crazy high prices of champagne and lobster added to it. the staff were dressed smartly in their suits and black dresses. The light jazz music played softly in the background amongst the chatter of the guests, adding that touch of richness.

Of course, the guests had no idea what was happening behind the red velvet curtain leading to the private area in the back. A table that cost more than the wine list to book and only available to a select group of people. Four men sat at the table, waiting. Rocking their feet, finger tapping on the table making a small thudding noise, smoking filling the room from the cigarette hanging off one of the man’s lips. Glasses of whiskey were dotted on the table, some nearly gone, others barely touched. The air was tense, and the front man grumbled.

“He’s not coming” he murmured.

“He’ll come boss, don’t worry” a younger one reassured.

It wasn’t any old ordinary dinner they were sitting down for.

Suddenly, the curtain was draped to the side, revealing the hustle and bustle behind it when a tall man stepped inside. He was dressed impeccably. A full black suit, tie tightly around his neck, perfectly straight trousers and shiny black dress shoes that cost more than five hundred dollars. He dripped of cologne and shower gel, ocean scents and richness oozing off him. He was followed by three other men, also dressed impeccably but he stood out the most.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming Barnes” the men from the table stood and greeted the four others. They had equal teams. The older man shook his hand, before proceeding to sit and take their places at the table, opposite. The table had dark chairs with leather seats, the table a dark mahogany covered in a dark tablecloth.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world Pierce” Barnes smiled.

Alexander Pierce, one of New York’s infamous mafia kings. Taking over the gang when he was only twenty years old, he built an empire and business in this busy city. He had power, money, wealth, everything a guy could want. He had businesses working for him, businesses he invested in, family businesses to keep going. He had everyone under the sun working for him in some way. Some called him the friendly godfather. He was a man not of cruelty and sadistic methods, but he had his violent ways. The restaurant was one of his many investments and longest businesses he had in his empire. He was older now, nearly entering his fifty’s. A wife and two beautiful children. But this was his life and always would be. Having taken over the gang from a young age, it was all he knew. His father taught him everything. He often felt like an old man compared to his gang members. They looked like they hadn’t aged a bit. He was always open to giving opportunities to youngsters.

He ruled the Manhattan side of this country with the Bronx just next to him. He ruled the drug world, the gun world, the sex world. You could say he was a millionaire, but he wasn’t in those people’s magazines flaunty his style and wealth. He was a bad man; he couldn’t be giving himself away. Pierce was a smart man and a dangerous one at that.

And sat opposite him was his rival, James Bucky Barnes. He was a younger man, early thirties, tall, dark, handsome, seductive. He was a dominant man, intimidating. He knew what he wanted, and he would get what he wanted. Like John he had businesses he invested him, businesses he had working for him. He had money, in fact you could say he had more money than John. He had guns, drugs, woman, cars, clubs, hotels, you name it he had it. His gang weren’t afraid to get what they wanted and use violence to do so. He was a smart man, a convincing man. He wasn’t afraid to overstep boundaries and territories. He wasn’t afraid to rattle a few cages. In fact, he liked it.

James ruled the Brooklyn side of New York. He had his own empire he built. He wasn’t a married man; in fact, you could say he went from one girl to another in the space of a day. He loved power and he wanted more of it. He was protective of what he owned and the people he knew but anyone that got in his way wouldn’t last long.

Their rivalry prompted this meeting. John was a friendly guy and got on with most people but one person he couldn’t stand was James Barnes. They’ve been arguing over territory for years now and a recent drug shipment set them off. The two mafia kings were very protective of their shipments and their territory. Which meant a meeting was in order to settle this dispute.

“You want a drink?” Pierce offered.

“Whiskey” James replied. John gave a short nod to one of his men who grabbed the whiskey bottle and four glasses, dumping them on their side and filling the glasses up with the brown liquor. James took a gulp, licking his lips of the brown liquid and took a short breath.

“So, you wanted to meet?’ he started.

“I think you know why; Manhattan is my territory Barnes, I don’t care if you’ve got every person in Brooklyn working for you, you aint getting my city” James laughed, his eyes squinting and his nose scrunching.

“You think I want that piece of shit city” he said, and Pierce grunted.

“Then why did that shipment come in on my side, clearly you want something to do with Manhattan”.

“Maybe they made a mistake, mistake are easily made” James shrugged casually, and John narrowed his eyes.

“Or perhaps you’re trying to get in without us knowing” Pierce retorted.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your boys coming into my clubs trying to score with my girls John, they tell me everything” it was true. A couple of John’s men had gone into one of James’s clubs and tried to sleep with the girls but not before security kicked them out. James wasn’t all too happy about it and if he had the chance, he would have killed every one of them.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that prick over there touching my wife” Pierce glared at the man on James’s right. Steve. He was a bit of a handful, a wild one. Couldn’t help himself when it came to woman and of course when it came to John’s wife. A grab on her ass earned him a slap across his face.

“If I remember correctly, he did apologise” James said sternly.

“I thought perhaps we could settle this once and for all, then we can get out of each other’s hair and get on with our day to day lives, doesn’t that sound good” Pierce smiled, leaning in his chair.

“Depends what your offering” James tapped his fingers on the table, the light shining off his silver thumb ring wrapped snugly around his right thumb.

“You can have Queens; I have nothing I want from there. But I get Staten island”.

“And why would I let you have that?”.

“Staten Island isn’t really your style; besides, Queens has some of the biggest clubs and weapons trade. I’ll have my docks, you’ll have yours, things will settle” Pierce explained, and James curled his lips up, thinking hard.

“And how do I know I won’t find your guys in my area again”.

“I can only promise they won’t. But if I see a drug shipment of yours in my docks then it’s ours” Pierce said with a serious tone.

“And if he comes near my wife again, I won’t hesitate to slit his throat” he threatened.

“You have a very beautiful family John, I can assure you it won’t happen again” James agreed, a little smile on the corner of his lips turning up as he mentioned his family.

The men stood up, a clatter of chairs and glasses. The meeting was short, not that the men wanted to stay any longer. James curved around the table, joining John into a handshake.

“Nice doing business with you John, I hope we don’t run into each other again” James smiled.

“So do I” James nodded to his men, leading the way out of the backroom to leave the restaurant. Pierce took a deep sigh and downed the rest of his whiskey, glaring as Barnes and his gang left.

“Thank god that’s over” he murmured.

……….

James wandered his bedroom, a hand shoved into one of the pockets of his tight trousers, a hand pressing his phone to his ear as he talked to Steve on the other end.

“Call John and tell him to bring the shipment to Queens, we’ll pick it up there. Have Sam go check on Trio” he turned back around and wandered back the way he came, staring at the ground. The plush white carpet underneath looked brand new despite it being there for years and not an inch of dirt was to be seen. It was soft and padded under his immaculate dress shoes.

“What about that guy we loaned to, has he paid us yet” Steve replied on the other end.

“No, go check on him, see if he has the money, take Sam with you encase anything happens”.

“Alright Buck, anything else”.

“No that’s it, call me when it’s done” he ordered and hung up the phone, throwing it on the check of long draws opposite the bed. The expensive iPhone clattered onto the smooth wood, landing just beside the black leather flogger lazily thrown on top. James picked it up by the handle, wrapping his long fingers around it and a smirk appeared on James’s face as he turned around, eyes darkening.

“Now, where were we”.

You moaned softly under the gag wrapped tightly around your head, spit dribbling down your chin and falling onto your hands in front of you. You were on all fours, in the middle of his enormous bedroom. Rope was tied around your wrists securely, keeping them snugly tied and the rope led up to your elbows, wrapping around them so your arms were straight. A small spreader bar was placed between your ankles, keeping them separated at. Desired length so you could neither open nor close them. Rope wound its way up your legs, intricately tied around your waist and thighs. It led down your back to your chest, pushed through the centre of your breasts and underneath to cup them. The ends of the ropes were tied to a ring hanging from the ceiling, keeping your in place.

Your hair was long and brushed back away from your face. Long lashes covered your eyes and your complexion glowed under the warm lights of the bedroom. The rope made it hard for you to move and your knees were starting to turn numb from being knelt for so long. Not to mention your pussy was dripping between your folds, juices running down to your thighs and soaking the rope as it rubbed near your pussy, turning you on.

James slowly walked towards you, flogger dangling beside him, the strands teasing you as they flicked back and forth until he was in front of you. ‘I’ve had a very long day and all I want to do now is have some fun with my little slut”. He knelt slowly, still towering over you, arms resting on his bent knees as he stared down at you with that smirk still on his lips. You looked up under your lashes with big eyes, mouth pressing over the gag wedged between your teeth. You were aching for it to be removed, the spit piling up in the bottom of your mouth.

He reached up with a single finger, brushing a piece of fallen hair away from your eyes, gently stroking your face as he did. His touch was soft and teasing. You moaned softly, staring up into those bright blue eyes of his.

“You want this out” he tapped the front of the gag, and you nodded fast, never taking your eyes off him. You murmured out a response, but it wasn’t very audible. James smirked harder and reached behind your head, pulling the strap free from the buckle, and ripping the gag from your mouth, freeing it from the ache on your jaw. He threw the gag behind him, hearing it clatter on the floor and you took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied softly, and he chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“You’re welcome” his hand crept under your chin, raising your head further, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, swiping away the thick spit and running it over your lips. Your tongue darted out to meet the pad of his thumb, moaning as he stuck it inside your mouth allowing you to suck. He tasted so good. He smelt amazing, his cologne dripping off him and filling your senses, clouding your mind almost like a drug. Suddenly he whipped his thumb out and stood up again, a little groan escaping you as he left you wanting more.

“You know what I want” he said, staring down at you and you knew exactly what he wanted.

“Yes Sir” you answered, and you leaned your head down to his shoe that was place in front of you. Your tongue darted out, licking the end of his shoe, wetting it with what little saliva you had left, worshipping him. You kissed up the leather, the taste lingering on your tongue, something you were now used to having this be a regular order. You could just about reach with the ropes pulling tightly above you.

“You know I saw your father today” he said softly above you and you stopped, looking up at him with surprise.

“You did?” you said and suddenly the flogger came down, smacking you on your back and a wince following.

“I didn’t say stop” he reprimanded, and you leant back down to continue licking.

“Sorry Sir” you said between licks and kisses.

“I had a meeting with him about our territories” you decided not to answer, knowing you would be punished for it.

“He made it very clear we shouldn’t go near his wife after last time” oh yes, the whole ass grabbing from Steve. You heard all about it when it happened from your mom.

“But he didn’t say anything about you” James smirked and switched his feet over for the other one. You licked and kissed his other foot, worshipping him as you had before, bowing down to him on the floor. James felt his cock strain against his pants just from watching you. a mix of humiliation and erotica swam through your body and your pussy dripped even more.

“How do you think your father would feel if he knew I was fucking his daughter?” James asked. you weren’t sure if you should reply so you carried on kissing the end of his shoe.

“How do you think he would feel if he found out his precious daughter was a little slut for his rival, mmm?”.

“Um, I don’t know Sir” you squeaked, bringing yourself up from his shoe and he turned to slowly trail around you, dragging the ends of the flogger across your naked body.

“Or how about the fact that his daughter calls me Daddy as well’ you shivered as the flogger trailed over your shoulder and dangled by your face.

“Or that I have her tied up, worshipping my shoe with her tongue?” he teased.

“He wouldn’t like it” you whispered, and James chuckled, bringing back the flogger and smacking it across your body.

“No, I don’t think he would” he agreed and hit you again, the flogger strands leaving small stings on your ass. You pulled at the ropes, but you had no room to move. you were securely fastened in your position. The flogger was harsh on your skin and red patches began to show up. But the more he hit you, the more it made your boy tingle and your pussy twitch. With every hit of the leather strands, your chest tightened against the rope and short groans and moans escaped as the pain turned you on. The stinging of the flogger made you drip even more, your pussy soaking with your juices.

Your skin was turning red and blotchy and was warm to the touch. Little beads of sweat trickled down your skin and hair strands fell beside you. James grinned as he saw your pussy pulsing with every hit and he dragged the end of the flogger against your aching mound, sending a tingle through your body. You moaned at the top of your lungs, fingers digging into the carpet as you tried to hold back the pleasure. You really were a slut. Your dad’s biggest rival had you tied up and flogging you and you weren’t even begging him to let you go. You liked all this, and it humiliated and turned you on at the same time.

“Look at you getting all wet down there, I can see that pussy dripping from here” he tapped your pussy with the flogger, the sensation wild and you flinched forwards.

“Yes Sir” you breathed, toes curling and teeth biting into your lower lip.

“You like all this don’t you, being treated like a whore” he teased, and you nodded but that only earned you a hard smack of the flogger.

“I can’t hear you?” he scolded.

“Yes Sir, I do like it” you answered loud and clear, and James smirked, padding back in front of you.

“Good girl” he praised which sent another tingle down your body. He knelt in front of you, his hands cupping your face and pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. His lips were soft and the slight bit of stubble he had scraped against your cheeks, the pain adding to all the sensations you were feeling. His lips overtook yours, taking control and you leaned in closer for more. You wanted more, you needed more, like your life depended on it. He tasted so good that you couldn’t resist him.

He pulled away and a whine escaped you, eyes low and begging for more. But James had other things planned for you. standing back up, he padded over to the walk-in wardrobe he had and soon came out with another implement. A wooden paddle. Much harsher than the flogger and it left marks.

James liked the feeling of leaving his mark on you. You were his property, something he owned no matter whose daughter you were. He didn’t care about Pierce. In fact, knowing that he did these dirty things to you only boosted his ego and turned him on because you were Pierce’s daughter.

“Now, tell me what I want to hear?” he smirked, walking past you to stand behind you. the coldness of the paddle stroked your ass, and you knew what was coming.

“Please Sir hit me” you begged softly and a hard smack from the paddle followed. You yelled and jolted forwards from the intense paid but took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The pain soon turned to pleasure as the sting turned you on. You knew you would be covered in bruises by the end.

Another smack of the paddle echoed in the room, and you gritted your teeth, hissing through them, toes curling tightly, knuckles turning white into the carpet and blending in.

“Please Sir, hit me again” you begged, and another hard hit came. Your ass was turning bright red with dark bruises forming. You certainly wouldn’t be sitting for the next week or two.

“Please Sir, again” each time you begged and each time you received. James’s cock was so hard now watching you take his beating, and he groaned softly through the pleasure.

“Good girl, look at you all marked up for me” he rubbed his palm over your ass, earning a harsh yelp and you pulled forwards into the ropes to get away from the pain. James’s grinned. He was a little sadistic inside.

“You know this turns me on so much, seeing you all bruised like this” he tickled his fingers over the bruises, and you couldn’t help blush.

“Thank you, Sir,” the sound of his zipper undoing only meant one thing and your pussy twitched.

“I think you deserve my cock now; you’d like that wouldn’t you, my cock deep inside your pussy, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow” James stroked his cock, turning it harder.

“Yes Sir, I would please. Please fuck me” you begged. The tip of his cock entered your pussy, teasing you as it pushed you open. Juices had made you slick enough for him to just slide right inside but he was taking care not to. He was taking his time to tease you; make you earn his cock.

“Go on, don’t stop begging me” he ordered.

“Please Sir, I want you cock inside me, I’ll do anything for you Sir, I’m all yours” you said with a little smirk on your face. It was so wrong to like all this. you were going against your father, going against his empire he had built and yet all you wanted now was James fucking you hard like he has done for the past couple of months. You allowed him to do these unspeakable things to you, to fuck you, own you, slap you, tie you up, treat you like nothing, but a sex slave and you enjoyed every minute of it.

If you father ever found out he’d never forgive you. But that’s the beauty of all this. James would never tell and as long as he got to keep on fucking and using you, he’d stay out of your father’s business. That’s the deal.

James finally entered your pussy, pushing all the way deep inside, balls deep in your slicked pussy, juices pouring out and running down your pressed thighs. He thrusted back and forth, balls slapping into your pussy as he buried himself deep each time. Tingles ran through your body, to your toes and your nipples perked up. Hot moans escaped you, your head falling forwards as pleasure took over you. James grunted as he started to fuck you, his cock stretching you open.

“Fuck, that’s it, you feel so good around my cock, so tight” his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin and his crotch slapping into your ass, pressing on the bruises. Pain and pleasure mixed together was like a cocktail sending you on a high. Skin slapping echoed in the room. his fingers dipped down and rubbed your clit, making small circles and sending pleasure tingles all throughout your body. Your orgasm was on the horizon, and the more he rubbed your clit with his thrusts, the quicker you were ready to come. But you knew the rules. No coming without his permission. Sometimes he wouldn’t let you come at all. It made him feel more in control knowing he could decide if you could orgasm or not.

“Oh fuck” you moaned; your body completely being taken by him.

“What is it baby, you want to come?” he smirked, and you nodded.

“Yes, please Sir, I want to come, please may I come” you begged, hoping to would be enough. Your orgasm was distracting you from begging and you didn’t know if you could hold back any longer. It was right there, just waiting to jump over the edge.

“I’ll do anything for you Sir” you said. you pressed your folds around him tightly, trying to hold back on the orgasm and James grunted, feeling you clench.

“Oh fuck” it sounded like he was going to come as well.

A few more thrusts and you felt him coming inside you, a warmth building up deep in your pussy, his thrusts slowing down and his fingers still rubbing hard and fast on your clit. You were almost about to come but held back until he granted you permission.

“You can come, come for me baby” he breathed. You released your orgasm, juices running down your thighs, soaking his cock and walls clenching around him. it was heaven, it was beautiful, it was erotic. You knelt there whilst you came, just letting your body release. Your face was sweaty, and pieces of hair clung to it, James the same. His pulled himself out, covered in slick and juices and his cock was hard and sensitive. His hand was covered in your juice as well which he rubbed on your ass, covering you in your own juices. With a cruel smirk, he smacked his hands on your ass cheeks, hitting the bruises once more and you yelped but were too tired to even react more.

James stood, shoving himself back in his pants and padded over to you, kneeling in front of you once again, taking your chin in his hand and kissing you softly. You moaned in the kiss, eyes half open and tired and when he pulled back with a smack of his lips, you softly smiled.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whispered, and he grinned.

“Mmm, good girl” a peck to your forehead sent another tingle through your body and you could easily collapse if you weren’t tied up. James brushed the stuck pieces of hair away before standing and beginning to untie you whilst you closed your eyes and fought off the sleep taking over you.

Hey so I hope you like this, let me know if you want me to continue this or turn it into a story, let me know what you think in the comments

@sebastiansluts @pattiemac1

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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cable-knit-sweater · 1 year

Text

Checkmate, I couldn’t lose

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: Modern AU, rich Steve Rogers, con man Bucky Barnes, idiots in love

Summary: Bucky is a con man, ready to steal all of Steve’s money so he’ll be set for life. Problem is…Steve’s onto him from the start, but plays along anyway.

Title from Mastermind by Taylor Swift

So I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk On your face, you knew the entire time You knew that I'm a mastermind And now you're mine Yeah, all you did was smile 'Cause I'm a mastermind

Written for @allcapsbingo card: AC1005 | Adoptable: Inheritance

Bucky does what he has to, to get by. He’d always been good at bullshitting his way out of things, but when he ended up on the streets as a teenager, he needed to step it up to survive. It started out with petty theft, distracting people so he could sneak a wallet or jewelry away from them to give him some cash to eat and to sleep somewhere. But he learned quickly, had some people teach him more skills, and now, in his mid twenties, he only did the petty stuff to get a little thrill.

He’d pretended to be so many different people, pretended to have so many different jobs. He’d played some long cons and cashed in. But he was getting to a point where he wanted it to stop. His current funds would last him a couple of years, maybe. Bucky needed one big job to set him up for life.

Finding the right mark took some time, but he’d finally found him. Steve Rogers was a well-known millionaire, coming from a prominent family. His parents had passed and had left him the bulk of his money in his inheritance, but he didn’t seem too attached to it, ending up in the society pages often enough wearing expensive clothes and accessories, driving expensive cars, stories of women who’d dated him that recounted extravagant dates and gifts. On top of that, he donated large amounts of money to charity each year.

So, he was someone that spent his money easily, and loved a good sob story. He was perfect. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too. Bucky knew just how to part him from a large chunk of that inheritance. And it wouldn’t take much more than batting his eyelashes and crying a little on cue. This was gonna be it. He was going to be set for life once he was done, he was sure of that.

He hadn’t been ready for Steve. He’d played it so cool, so perfectly, when they met and he could see the instant attraction in Steve’s eyes. It had seemed so simple then.

But nothing about Steve was simple. Bucky had to tell himself repeatedly why he was doing this, to not lose himself in the game and forget that this wasn’t real.

Steve made it so hard to remember that. He was kind, smart, wonderful. Bucky found himself imagining what it could be like, to actually be on Steve’s arm for real. But that was never going to happen. This Bucky, the Bucky Steve spent so much time on, listened to, laughed with, loved on - it was a character, not who he really was, even if he could feel himself slip sometimes.

Even if Steve could actually like him for who he was, that never was going to happen. Not if he knew why Bucky was here in the first place. He was so stupid. The first thing he’d learned was to not feel sorry for the mark, let alone feel this much for one.

The only thing he could hope for now, was that he got some results soon, so he could leave. So he could leave before it became impossible to do that without breaking his own heart.

Some nights, he felt like it was already too late for that.

Bucky was different. It had taken Steve a moment to realize that, too distracted by a lean body and brilliant grey-blue eyes. Meeting him at the benefit for one of his many charities had felt like faith. Steve was done with dating around and ready to settle down, and at first Bucky seemed like he was interested in Steve for Steve, not his bank account.

He knew how people saw him. As a rich, spoiled playboy. Pretty, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He was fine with that, mostly, although it was always disappointing when people didn’t see through that or paid too little attention to him to get that far, too focused on what he could do for them rather than who he was.

Bucky was different. He was focused on Steve.

There was only one problem. He was too focused on Steve. He knew too much about Steve, played too much into his weaknesses. He was too perfect. Once he’d noticed, he started paying attention to everything Bucky did. It didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that it was all an act.

He was sure Bucky hadn’t noticed, but Steve saw him slip up a couple of times, things he said or did just not matching up with the picture he was trying to create. It had made Steve smile a little. Bucky was smart, good at what he did. Steve was just too used to people trying to get something out of him, that he could see right through it. But he liked Bucky, so he let him play his game, just to see what would happen.

There wasn’t much he had to lose here. If Bucky managed to con him out of his money, that was fine. He cared little for it, he’d find a way to live the rest of his life without it. If Bucky didn’t manage to win this little game, Steve at least could have some fun while spending time with him, before Bucky probably would give up and disappear as quickly as he’d turned up.

He was sweet, funny, kind. Steve was more than willing to lose all of his money just for more time with that Bucky. He just hoped that Bucky felt the same. Steve was probably setting himself up for heartbreak. But he was having fun, playing along, and enjoyed every minute with Bucky when he was being himself.

Steve tried to show Bucky what it could be like without the con, to show him that there could be something there between them. That it could be real, if he wanted to, if he wanted to give up on playing this little game. It was hard to find the balance between showing him that, and making Bucky too suspicious. If that happened before Bucky was ready, if Bucky figured out that Steve knew what he was doing, he’d probably run for the hills.

Maybe Bucky would never be ready, but a Steve had hope. Maybe Bucky would break his heart, maybe he’d con Steve out of everything. But Bucky was worth it, he thought. Two could play this game, and Steve wasn’t planning on losing.

#maya tries to write #allcapsbingo2023 #stucky fic #stucky au #stucky #steve x bucky #inspired by my fav murder baby & fav con man baby 💕💕💕#I might try to write the fic one day lol

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notafunkiller · 11 months

Text

love me like you paid me - co-written with @marvelouslizzie

Summary: You accompany businessman Bucky Barnes to all the events he has to attend, and you find yourself wishing he wasn’t paying you to be his date.

Pairing: businessman!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (the reader is 24, Bucky is 34), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, nipples play, oral sex, clit play, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), cursing, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 11K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: @marvelouslizzie and I had a great time writing this story, and we really hope you will, too, while reading it.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

> I think I'll be late for a couple of minutes, I am very sorry. You can go inside, you just need to say your name.

You look at the text he sent you once again, to make sure you didn’t miss any details. The thought of going inside alone spikes up your anxiety even though you never met him before. Everything looks so fancy, and you are already feeling out of place.

So you decide to wait. It's better for appearances, anyway. You didn't properly establish the context of you being his plus-one before, and you don't want to make mistakes.

And it doesn't even take a long time. He arrives just five or six minutes later. You watch him get out of the car and look around before your eyes finally meet for the first time.

"I am so, so sorry for being late. But why are you standing here?" He says awkwardly looking at you from head to toe twice as he starts arranging his suit jacket.

“I thought it would be better if we go inside together. It wouldn't look too convincing if we came separately.”

He nods. "Smart. I'm sorry, I'm..." He pauses, unsure, and extends his hand. "You're very beautiful, thank you. I'm Bucky."

You offer him a smile while extending your hand and giving him your name. “Thank you. You’re looking very dapper yourself.”

He snorts. "Not thanks to me."

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"I meant my stylist." He explains, freeing your hand.

“Oh.” You feel awkward. You didn’t even think about that. “Yeah, but you are carrying it well.”

You see his cheeks getting red. "Thank you. Shall we go inside?"

“Yeah, of course.” You offer him your arm.

"I think I should be doing that." He does the same thing.

You feel so embarrassed for a second but take his arm anyway. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“Don't be sorry." He gives the man at the entrance a smile before saying your names, and in no time, you are led to your table.

You take a look around, trying to be as subtle as possible. It’s even fancier than it seemed when you were waiting for him outside and people seem to know one another as they greet and talk to each other. You feel a faint pain in your stomach.

"You know… in case someone asks you, my three favorite things are eating my family and not using commas."

“What?” You feel so lost.

"My three favorite things are eating my family and not using commas." He repeats this expired joke he read online at some point. "You know, eating my family and eating, my family."

You suddenly snort, not expecting him to make a joke like this.

"I guess you can smile, and what a beautiful smile you have." He pauses and scrunches his nose as soon as he finishes the phrase. "I don't mean to be you know... I am not trying to...."

“You are not trying to what?” You’re still smiling because of his dad joke, totally unaware of why he’s trying to explain himself.

"To make you uncomfortable or something. I just wanted to help you feel better. I am surprised, though. Usually, models feel a little less nervous."

“Model?” You repeat, visibly confused. “I’m… I’m not a model.” Did they tell him you were a model?

"Oh, it explains the height." He lets out a deep breath.

“The height?” You can’t believe he actually said that. Like your height isn’t good enough for his standards. Probably, you aren’t good enough for his standard since you aren’t a model.

"Oh god, no." He groans. "That sounded terrible. I meant, models usually are very tall and look... different. I told them I don't want a model, but my team didn't quite listen. That’s why I said that."

“So you aren’t the one who specifically wanted a model?”

"God, no." He shakes his head. "I actually chose you." He scrunches his nose again. "That sounds even more terrible."

“I know you chose me. How do you think they found a photo of me to send you?”

Bucky snorts. "I should shut up."

“No, no. I mean…” You lower your voice a little to make sure no one hears you. “I was aware of what this is when I said yes. It’s fine.”

"I am making a fool out of myself, I am sorry."

“No, you are not. It’s actually helping me to relax because I was really worried about…” You stop yourself right before saying something stupid.

"Did I seem intimidating?"

“Yeah.” You quickly accept it because his choice of words is much nicer than what you were originally thinking. You expected him to be a pretentious asshole. Instead, he seems like he’s just as nervous as you are.

He smiles. "What would you like to drink?"

“White wine is fine.” It seems like a safe choice.

"I love wine." He smiles. "And to be honest, it’s the only thing I drink at those events. Oh, and champagne, of course."

“That also works, but I can’t have too much.”

"Want to order food before?"

“No, not because of that. I have an early work meeting tomorrow.”

"Oh, we can leave earlier." He immediately offers. "I don't stick much around usually, anyway."

“That’s not necessary, we can stay as much as you want. I’m already prepared for my meeting. I just don’t want to seem unprofessional tomorrow by looking like I have a huge hangover. I kinda need it to go well.”

"What do you do if you're not a model?" He asks with a smile, genuinely curious to find out more information.

“I am running my own bakery.”

"That sounds so awesome. Family business?"

“No. I actually started it pretty recently. Still learning how to manage a business and get clients.” You suddenly stop, feeling self-conscious. “Sorry. That must sound really silly to you.”

"Silly?" He tries to tuck back a few strands of his hair as he looks at you. "I want to know more. If you want to share of course. Maybe I can even help. I know how hard it can be, especially when you don't have experience. Do you have a partner?"

“No.” You can’t help but smile because he seems genuinely interested. “I’m doing it by myself. Or rather trying.”

"Wow, that must be exhausting and challenging. Do you have employers? How new..." he stops mid-sentence when the waiter comes. "Can you bring us some white wine, please?"

"What kind?"

You watch him as he casually orders a specific brand, then his eyes meet yours again. You realize he’s actually waiting for your answer. “I have one person that works with me.”

"Paying a salary must be hard."

“Yeah, money is kinda tight.” That’s the whole reason you accepted being his date tonight: you want to be able to pay Nicole’s salary, but you don’t say that.

"I'm sorry." He sighs. "Maybe I can help, though." He thinks about a donation or something, but he doesn't even know you or your business.

“You already are. Don’t worry about it.”

The waiter returns with the wine, asking you if you want to taste it, but Bucky gives him a polite smile after looking at you. "Thank you, but no need."

The man nods and starts pouring slowly.

When you taste the wine, you understand why he specifically asked for this one. It leaves a really gentle after-taste on your tongue.

"Do you like it?" He asks nervously as he takes a sip himself.

“Very much. Probably the best wine I have ever tasted.”

"I am so glad to hear that. But did you eat anything before coming here?”

“Ihm… No.”

"Then we should order. Excuse me," he calls the waiter again with a hand gesture.

While he is ordering food, you find the perfect moment to stare at him. He’s speaking in a way that shows he belongs here. He is kind yet commanding. You focus on his face and watch a strand fall on his forehead. He doesn’t pay any attention to it, just gently pushing it back, but you find yourself taking a deeper breath. His lips are full, his smile is gentle and his eyes are curious. That’s when you notice he is actually talking to you.

"Do you have preferences?"

You shake your head. You have no idea what preference he is talking about, but even if you did you are sure you would have no idea what to order in a place like this.

"Do you trust me with this?"

“Yeah.” You quickly answer to cover the fact that you weren’t paying attention to his food choices. “Just no sea food, please.”

"Of course." He nods and turns his attention to the waiter again. "The same for her, please. Also a bottle of water."

It's already pretty late, and it's clear neither of you has much energy left, but you can't interrupt this conversation. You are trying to listen so you can be prepared if they ask you something.

"I agree, the market doesn't look good, but let's see if something changes once they apply the new policies," he says looking at both of you for a couple of seconds. "It's hard for new businesses, unfortunately."

You take a deep breath, knowing what he says is true and how it affects you. Still, you don’t comment on anything, just watching them.

Bucky leans in, laughing politely when the man cracks a bad joke, and you notice how a few hair strands fall on the side of his face and forehead.

Before your mind can register what you are doing, you find yourself leaning towards him and pushing the hair back. Then you notice what you’ve just done and freeze. Your hand lingers on his hair.

He freezes too, mid-sentence, and looks at your hand, his neck getting so red in just a few seconds.

"Oh, look at that. Your girlfriend is taking good care of you." The man in front of you teases.

“I’m sorry.” You try to retreat your hands as gracefully as possible so it won’t look suspicious. His hair is back in its place.

"Don't apologize." Bucky smiles, taking your hand into his. "She's always shy in public."

“I forgot for a second we are in public.” That’s not a lie. You really forgot your surroundings and how you were supposed to behave.

"What a beautiful girlfriend you have, Barnes."

You can feel your cheeks burning because of his words. You are not his girlfriend obviously, but will he point that out?

"She's also incredibly smart. You know, she started her own bakery a few months ago in this crazy market."

“Really?”

"Yes, with no help either. I'm really proud of her."

Did he just say he’s proud of you? Jesus christ…

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. You know why?” He’s directly asking you that question, and you just shake your head as in no. “Because he started his own company, probably around your age, too.”

"Michael..."

That you didn’t know. You had no idea how he got this rich, and hearing that makes you feel more hopeful.

“I’m just saying.” The man continues. “I can see why you like her. And she’s pretty lucky because she can get the best investment advice or tips on how to run a successful business from you.”

"Oh, trust me, I am luckier." He gives you the warmest smile you've ever received.

You have no idea what to say or do. Should you act like his girlfriend? Should you just smile and nod? That would be rude, wouldn’t it? You should return the compliment. You would definitely do that if he was your boyfriend.

“Oh, I know how lucky I am,” you say with a smile.

Bucky takes a quick look at his watch. "Alright, I think we need to go. Tomorrow is a long work day. Hope you don't mind." He shakes Michael's hand.

"It was nice to see you."

You are glad it’s finally time to leave. You were getting worried about how much longer you would have to stay here. Not because of him. Bucky seems like a perfectly nice guy, but this fancy place makes you uncomfortable. You gently smile while shaking Michael’s hand and take Bucky’s arm.

"Have a good evening. It was nice to meet you."

“It was nice meeting you too, Michael.”

"I'm sorry for that. Took too long," Bucky whispers in your ear.

“The event isn’t even over yet. We are leaving early.” He shouldn’t have to say sorry for something you agreed to do.

"Is it okay if we drive you home?" He gestures to his driver who's pulling in. You didn't even realize when he texted him.

“You don’t have to, I can take a cab.”

"At this hour?" He puffs. "Not in a thousand years. My driver can drop you off." Bucky offers instantly. It's clear he won't let this go.

“Only if it won’t be a bother…”

"Of course not." He gestures to his driver. "I want you to drop the lady off and make sure she gets inside safely, please. I'll take a cab."

“What?” You didn’t expect him to take a cab. “No, I can’t accept that.”

"Please. Also thank you for tonight, I am really grateful and I enjoyed having you here."

“Bucky…” You stop for a second, feeling hesitation over using his name. “Can I call you Bucky?”

"Of course."

“Bucky, thank you for tonight. I enjoyed it more than I expected. You are a gentleman, but I can’t take your car. I thought you meant dropping me at my place on your way home.”

"I thought..." he pauses. "You felt uncomfortable around me and that's why you refused the ride."

“No. Why would I feel uncomfortable around you?”

He smiles shyly and opens the door for you. "Alright, then let's go."

You really don’t know why he thought that and it bothers you. While you take your seat, you decide to apologize for what happened in there. Maybe that’s why he felt uneasy.

He looks absolutely confused when you actually say the words. "What?"

“I am just really sorry about what I did back there. I don’t know what came over me.”

"What did you do?”

“You know… Making you uncomfortable by fixing your hair.”

Bucky can't help but giggle softly. "Why would you apologize for that? That was very thoughtful, thanks."

His giggle catches you off guard. “I thought… I crossed a boundary.”

"No, not at all. Sorry for the boring conversations."

“It wasn’t that boring. I actually learned a couple of things.”

Bucky smiles. "Did you? Not surprised, you're a businesswoman after all."

“I try to be.” You smile back even though you are feeling kinda sad that your time with him is about to end.

"I think you have a big potential. You control your emotions very well. You are smart and know how to enjoy good wine." He gives you a playful but innocent wink as he says the last part.

“And now I know you, so I can ask for business advice.” You repeat Michael’s words very poorly.

Bucky nods. "Of course. And you know maybe I can help... with a donation."

“A donation?” You really didn’t mean to sound that offended, but you are.

He frowns. "Yeah, I really think you got potential in business and it's hard when no one helps you."

Talking about money always bothers you. Getting paid for going out with someone already feels wrong enough, but the way he walks about it makes you feel worse.

“Can we…. not… talk about this?” Your discomfort is much more clear in your voice than you realize.

"I-Of course, sorry if I bothered you," he immediately says apologetically.

“Talking about money like this bothers me and… just to be clear, I don’t want any help.”

"I understand. I wasn't trying to intrude."

You offer him a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

"I'm really so-"

"Is this the right address?" The driver interrupts Bucky all of a sudden.

“Yeah, it is.” Your answer comes instantly.

"Perfect."

“Thank you…” You stop for a minute realizing you don’t know his name. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name before.”

"Noah."

“Thank you, Noah.” Then you turn to Bucky. “And thank you for tonight, Bucky.”

"Thank you." You give him one more smile before opening the door. "Wait."

“What?”

"Are you free on 18?"

“I… think so. Why?”

"I have a proposal for you."

As the 18th comes closer, you get more worried about what to wear. You used your fanciest dress at that event and now your options are pretty limited. You search your closet and try to think of a friend who would let you borrow a dress. That’s when you finally see that simple black dress. That might work. When you put it on, your feelings are conflicted, though. It looks good on you, but it doesn’t seem good enough. You are not completely sure about how fancy this event is. Maybe… maybe you can ask him.

< Hey. Sorry to bother you but how fancy is this event?

> Hey, no bother. Like the one we attended.

> Why?

< I’m not sure about my dress. Is it okay if I show it to you? I don’t wanna be underdressed.

> I am sure that's impossible but of course.

You send a mirror selfie, showing your dress.

>You look very beautiful.

>The dress is absolutely amazing too, but it's a black-tie event. Would you consider me disrespectful if I sent my stylist to you?

< Thank you.

< No, of course not. I need help. I would appreciate it.

> Gonna send Lila a message and then I'll give her your number if that's okay.

< That’s perfectly okay. Thank you and again sorry to bother you with something like this.

> You don't bother me.

> I mean it.

< I know you are busy. That’s what I meant.

> Well, I am sure you are very busy yourself.

> How is the bakery and how was the meeting?

< I’m done working for the day. So I get to worry about the dress I’m gonna wear.

< The meeting went well but I didn’t hear anything from them yet.

> I hope it was a full day.

> I mean with many clients.

> And I hope they will give you a call.

< It was a tiring day. How was yours?

> Tiring, but productive, thank you for asking.

> Lila will call you in two minutes. She's a nice person. She manages to make me look decent every time.

< You look more than decent and I don’t think it’s all her doing.

5 minutes later

< Talked to Lila. We go shopping tomorrow. Thanks again for the help.

> Don't thank me for that. My pleasure. Have a good evening.

< You too.

The next day, you meet Lila and go shopping together like you agreed. She seems like a fun person and definitely understands your style. Her suggestions are great. but the only problem is the cost When you notice the price tags, you want to leave, but she assures you that it is all taken care of. That’s when you realize Bucky Barnes is paying for this shopping trip. You feel dumb for not thinking about this while talking to him. That’s why he was guarded when he offered help. That usually restlessness creeps up on you because you don’t want his help like this, but Lila convinces you that he is the reason you need new dresses anyway. And it is true. He is dressing you so you look the part. That eases your anxiety and finally, you are able to enjoy your dress hunt. When you come back home, you are completely exhausted but ready for any event he might want to take you.

> Hi

> How are you?

< I’m good, getting ready. How are you?

> I am good too.

> I was wondering if you mind me picking you up...

< You wanna pick me up?

> Yes. I might need your address again, though.

< Noah doesn’t remember?

< I am picking you up.

Oh.

> You should say no if you don't want that.

< No, why wouldn’t I? I just didn’t think you would come without your driver for some reason.

> Do you want me to come with Noah?

> I can.

< I don’t need someone extra to feel comfortable around you, Bucky.

< It’s up to you. Whatever you wanna do, I will be fine with it.

> Perfect 🙂

> 7:30 or 8? We should totally skip half an hour.

> So boring

< That emoji makes me feel like I did something wrong and you are being kind.

< Both are fine by me.

> See you at 8 then 😁

> Since you hate the other emoji

< Oh this one is much better.

< See you at 8. Leave your overthinking hat at home.

You quickly send him your address.

> Thank you

The evening comes even quicker than you expected. He picks you up alone and you have a great conversation on your way to the event. He gives you some pointers about it and the people you will most likely have to talk to and warns you that it’s gonna be boring. And he is right. It is even more boring than the first one. A lot of speeches and conversations with people you don’t know. You try to stay composed and play your part, trying to hide the fact that you are bored as fuck. Bucky comes to your rescue with a fun game. He makes funny comments and on-point jokes before and/or after you talk to someone. His observation skills are extraordinary. He notices stuff that you wouldn’t normally remark. Like a missing wedding ring, so he knows not the mention their spouse during their conversation. He whispers into your ear and makes you laugh the whole night. Hearing his voice that close, and feeling his breath on your neck drives you crazy. Does he know the effect he has on you? Is he doing it on purpose or is he just trying to pass the time as pleasantly as possible? You don’t know. Just like the first event, you leave a little bit early. He drives you back home, offers you a warm smile, and mentions when the next event will take place. You just nod in agreement, already looking forward to it.

> Friends or The Office?

> Also hi

< The Office. Love how intentionally awkward it is.

< Hiii back.

> How are you?

> Let me guess who you like the most

> Is he tall?

< Yeah genius, it’s Jim.

< I’m good, how are you?

> I knew you have taste.

> I am good. Now even better.

< Why better?

< Also who else could I like? He’s the only sane person in that office.

> Because I talk to you.

> So true.

He’s feeling better because he’s talking to you. God, that makes your blood rush.

< I like talking to you, too.

< Okay I have a question. What do you think of Karen?

> Karen? Don't make me be a hater while texting.

> It would never end.

> You?

< You know the word hater? I’m impressed.

< I don’t like her either. She tried too hard to make things work.

> I am 34, not 304!

> I feel offended

< It’s so easy to tease you.

> She is boring and annoying. More annoying than that douchebag.

< You mean Roy?

> Yeah

> That punching scene though

< God, that guy is a walking red flag.

< Pam was truly blind.

> She was. Sad...

< Favorite season?

> Hard.

> Very hard.

> Maybe 4.

> Yours?

< Either 4 or 6.

> Tastee

< You are starting to sound like me

> Well, I am older, so it's the other way around

< Sure old man. Whatever you say

> Old but handsome, to quote you

< I can’t be held responsible for the things I say when I’m tipsy.

> Excusess

< Shh you are exposing me too much

As time passes, your conversations become friendlier. You don’t feel like this is something you have to do just to keep your business going. It feels like you two enjoy each other’s company. It feels like flirting. Yet you are not sure if that’s how he feels about all this, too.

> Hi. Are you home?

< Yeah?

> in a few minutes you might have a delivery

< A delivery?

< Bucky what did you buy this time?

> I can sense a tone

< Can you?

> A bratty tone.

> You'll see when it comes.

Just a few minutes later you open the door and see a huge bouquet of flowers.

< Jesus Bucky!

< These are so pretty!

< Thank youu.

> No complaining, huh?

> Glad you like them.

> I can complain if that’s what you want.

> I want you to be good and put them in a vase.

< They are already in a vase, sir.

You send a photo of the flowers in your prettiest vase.

> Great.

< I can’t stop smelling them.

> Noted

< I’ve got something to show you. Well two things because I can’t decide.

> Waiting

You send two mirror selfies in two different dresses. The first one is a black dress with a high slit on the right side. The other one is a simple pastel pink dress but the cleavage is on display a little.

< Which one should I wear for the next event?

> You think I am the right person to choose?

< I am your date, aren’t I?

> They both look great.

> Depends on what you want.

< That’s what I think too!

< And that’s why I can’t decide.

< Please help me out.

> Pink?

< Pink it is.

< Thank you.

What you didn't expect from this arrangement is how your attachment grows more and more every time you see Bucky. He makes it hard not to miss him with his smile and his jokes, the way he tries to integrate you and always asks how you feel. Truth be told, you're not even professional anymore and you catch yourself wanting to make a move on him every time he compliments you. But you can't, so you're forced to wait for him to do it. And you really hope he will.

You probably put too much faith in a rich person because when you see your notification from the banking app, you have to refrain from making a scene. You check twice just to be sure. For some reason, you are paid double the amount for this date and it’s not because he missed any previous payments. No, he just decided to pay you more the moment you started to grow closer.

When you look at him, he immediately catches something's wrong and leans in to whisper.

"What happened?"

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Because you know if you do, your whole act will be exposed.

Bucky nods and looks at the rest of the table. "We're gonna head back home now. It was really nice to see you."

His reaction surprises you. You have the whole night ahead of us and he already paid you double. Why does he want to leave already?

"Of course. Have a good evening!"

“Oh, are you really leaving this early?” Someone else asks.

"Yes. We have plans for tomorrow pretty early in the morning."

“Ah! Too bad. Still, it was nice seeing you two.”

You both nod before you make your way to the door. You absently watch him asking for both of your coats and holding the door for you.

The way he’s acting like everything is fine infuriates you more. You really hoped something was going to happen between you two. It felt like you were headed in that direction, but you are not so sure anymore. Maybe he never saw it that way. Maybe he was thinking the worst of you and he’s just paying you more for everything he considers extra. It makes you feel nauseous.

"I should have made them change the plate… Do you have an allergic reaction?"

“Yeah, I am having an allergy reaction.” You lash out as soon as you feel safe to react. “An allergic reaction to you trying to buy everything.”

"What?" He looks at you so confused as if he didn't double paid you a moment ago.

“Tell me it’s just a mistake and you didn’t do it on purpose.”

"Do what? Pay you?"

Oh… He did it on purpose. And just like that the last hope you were hanging on vanishes.

“Yeah, pay me double just as we were getting closer. Is that all I am to you?”

"All you are to me?" He repeats shocked.

“Someone you can pay for whatever you want.” You don’t wait for an answer. You just keep going. “Of course, that’s all I am. What else can I be? It’s my fault for accepting this… deal. I put myself in this position. Why would you see me as someone other than a hooker.”

"Stop!" He screams back but not as loudly as you do. "What are you saying? What the actual fuck? When did I even imply that? Paying you double has nothing to do with disrespecting you! Contrary!"

“You don’t have to say it! The moment we started to get closer, you decided to pay me double. I don’t need to be Einstein to put 2 and 2 together.”

He scrunches his nose. "How about us getting closer and me wanting to help you, huh? Did that ever cross your mind? Me wanting to help you pay your debt faster, knowing the effort you make to accompany me to these," he gestures to the place behind you. "But no, of course, you didn't because you think the lowest of me. That I would believe I can buy you and your affection!"

“Help me?” He must be joking. “When I specifically told you I don’t want help!”

"I just don't want you to struggle. Is it so bad?" His voice is soft now while he stares at you, trying to show you he's entirely honest

“Have you ever stopped for a second and thought how getting help would make me feel? I’ll tell you. It makes me feel like a failure.”

"You're not a failure. And getting help doesn't make anything you did and do less important, especially since it's small. Please..." he sighs. "Let's continue talking in the car at least, it's freezing. You shouldn't get sick."

“Fine. I will get in, but this… this conversation is not over.” He’s right. It’s freezing and you can’t take it anymore.

He nods gratefully and opens the door for you, which you close with force.

As soon as he gets in the car and starts the engine, he turns on the ac, giving you a look. You keep taking deep breaths and avoid looking at him.

"Please... do you really think that low of me?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." You finally look back at him. "Are you gonna drive or are we gonna have this conversation here?"

"I don't want to drive you home upset. I want to talk about it..."

You stop for a second, consider your options. You can't have this conversation in a public place. "Your place or mine?"

Money is clearly not an issue for him so he probably didn't even blink to pay you double you realize as you get inside the house. You try not to look around too curiously. Your image in his eye is already as bad as it could get.

"How low do you think of me?" He repeats the same question while he starts to take off his shoes.

“I should be asking you that question.”

"You're the one who thinks I tried to buy you as a hooker."

“What were you trying to do then if not buying my affection? And don’t tell me helping!”

"To help."

“I don’t want help!” You don’t notice how loud you are. “I don’t want anyone’s help! I have to do this on my own. Is that so hard to understand?”

"Yes and no." He sighs. "I get this drive, I had it too, but I wish you could try to see... that you don't have to do this alone. But instead, you think I see you as someone buyable."

“Imagine when you started your business and had debt, someone had the means to help you, just give you money like it’s nothing and you don’t get to pay it back. Would you accept it? Would you think it’s your success if someone helped you out like that? Just be honest and answer.”

"Fuck no." He sighs. "But you deserve the money. And you put up with the events and your business..."

“Fuck no indeed. I want to do this myself. I have to prove myself I’m not a failure like my-” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence.

"What? Like what?"

“It doesn’t matter. I just need to prove that to myself, okay?”

"How could you think you are failing when you already did so much?

“As long as this business doesn’t succeed, whatever I’ve done so far does not matter. Only the result matters.” You don’t notice you are repeating your father’s words.

"That is bullshit. You think success is based on wins only?"

“It doesn’t feel like winning when you are worried about paying the next month's salaries.”

"That's a worry that honestly doesn't stop. Or at least not for me. Success means failure and worries sometimes. Success means trying and holding on."

“I’m not here to have a conversation about what you view as success, Bucky. I’m here because I’m mad at you.”

"You're mad at me, but you think I am an awful person." He starts taking off his jacket.

“I’m mad at you because you can’t pay me double just because you want to. That’s not how real life works.”

"Oh, really?" He smiles sarcastically. "I should totally give zero shits about you worrying about paying salaries and having student debt. Totally real-life fun stuff."

“Student debt? How do you even know about that?”

"You mentioned it."

“I don’t remember mentioning my student debt to you.”

He puffs, not breaking eye contact. "I have ears."

“You heard me mentioning my student debt and decided to pay me double?” He’s unbelievable.

"Yes."

“Do you have any idea how much you were paying me before?”

Bucky blushes embarrassed and strokes his beard. "No..."

“You were already paying me nearly a monthly salary. Just for going on a date with you once a week. Do you have any idea how it made me feel seeing that double payment in my account while I was hoping for…”

"Fuck, I want to say I am sorry, but I am not. I am not buying you, no matter how low you think of me. I want to help you. I thought we are already friends."

“Friends.” You give him a bitter smile. “Friends don’t pay each other.”

"Friends help each other." He is getting closer to you.

“Not without the other one asking for help.”

"You're impossible." He sighs. "You can pay me back at some point." He is so serious.

“Which point will that be?”

"Whenever you won't be worried about salaries."

“You said it yourself, that time never comes.”

"Please, doll." He closes his eyes, not even realizing what he said.

“Please what?”

"Can we just stop fighting?"

“We can if you stop paying me.”

"It's your money. You come with me every time. This event was more boring than usual... consider this a bonus for putting up with it and me."

“I don’t want- I don’t need that.”

"Why not? It's just for now." He seems upset. "Do you want nothing to do with me anymore?"

“I don’t need money to… enjoy my evening with you. I was actually hoping for you to… you know… stop paying me soon.”

"You want to end this?" He doesn't even try to hide his disappointment. His voice starts trembling.

“I want to end the payments.”

"So no more events..."

“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t want you to pay me for that anymore.”

"Oh." Bucky thinks a little. "You want to come to meet more people?"

“Dear god… You are so dense for a smart businessman sometimes!”

"You are calling me dumb."

“Yeah, because you are being dumb or just acting dumb, I don’t know anymore. You can call me if you want me to accompany you as your friend… or date, okay? It’s up to you now.” You reach for your stuff to leave his place.

"I just want to know why you'd find it so bad for me to pay you. Would you not pay me?"

“Don’t you really see the implication?”

"What implication? Tell me what you think."

“Would you pay me if we had sex?”

He freezes, completely taken aback. "What?"

“You heard what I said. Would you love me like you paid me, too?”

"You want to fuck me?" He asks unsure. As if he doesn’t know if he heard you right.

“Do you need things spelled out for you like this?”

"Do you mean it?"

“I have already said too much, Bucky. I think it’s better if I go.”

He grabs your hand when you turn toward the door. "I don't think you said enough."

“You want me to embarrass myself more?” He rolls his eyes. “I think I have made myself clear enough. Time for me to leave.”

"Come on." He smiles. "You didn't say anything."

You let a frustrated breath out. “Take care, Bucky.”

"Doll, please. You can't leave in the middle of a conversation like this!"

“Of course, I can leave. What else is there to talk about?”

"You asked if I'd pay you for sex."

“And I think I got my answer.”

"No, I would not pay you for sex."

“Because you didn’t even consider that option.”

He puffs, and you notice sweat drops on his neck. "Why did you even ask that? I already said I do not consider you buyable."

He is very close now, holding both of your hands and staring into your soul.

“Because that’s how I feel every time you pay me to spend time with you.”

"God, doll. You are really fucking impossible. You think I don't want to kiss you or fuck you? I think about it all the goddamn time if I let myself, but we had an arrangement..."

“And that’s why I wanna end the arrangement.”

"Done." His answer is instant.

“So you can take me out on a normal date, maybe.”

"Yeah?" He wraps his arms around your waist, making you drop both: your coat and bag. But you don’t look down even when they hit the floor.

“If you want…” You feel your voice suddenly getting smaller.

"May I kiss you?"

“Only if you aren’t gonna ask permission for everything.”

He snorts. "Just answer."

“You may.”

He does, moving a hand to your chin as he immediately tries to deepen the kiss. The way he kisses you takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to start this kiss so strongly, but you definitely aren’t complaining. His other hand goes from your waist to your ass, grabbing it over your pants. You gasp in surprise, which interrupts the kiss.

He smiles. "Hi."

“Hi.” You try to catch your breath while he starts to kiss down your neck without warning. Your right hand trails up from his neck to his hair as you let out a low moan.

"Fuck." He starts sucking on a spot below your collarbone.

“Jesus, Bucky…” You try to sound as normal as possible. “Take a girl out to dinner first.”

"You want dinner?"

“Well, not right now.”

"What do you want right now?"

“Just keep doing what you were doing.”

He kisses you so sloppily, his hands going under your shirt without realizing. You wrap your hands around his neck and close the remaining distance between your bodies.

"Fuck, you taste so good."

“Maybe it’s the lipstick.” You joke and without letting him answer, you start to kiss him again, immediately using your tongue. He moans in the middle of the kiss and then opens his mouth a little further, inviting you in. Your hands go to the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, fuck."

“Can I take this off?” You ask for permission the way he did before.

"Please." He is breathing slowly, looking at your hands

You take your time unbuttoning the shirt, testing his patience.

"Doll, please." His mouth finds your neck.

“Please what?”

"Faster."

“That part comes later,” You say with a suggestive tone and he snorts, leaving another kiss on your neck.

"Left you a few pretty marks."

“Maybe I should give you some too.”

"Later." When you finally finish unbuttoning, he takes it off in a heartbeat. "Hope you won't hate me."

“For what?” He simply rips your shirt in half in response. “Bucky!” His hands grab your bra while you are still talking. “That was an expensive top!”

"Was." He just rips off the bra, too. "Just like this was on you. Past tense.”

"Do not!" You lift your finger. "Rip off anything else!"

He bites that finger without hesitation, sucking in it further. You try to take your finger back.

“Jesus Bucky, how am I gonna go back home now?”

"What? You want to go home?"

“I have to go home eventually, you know.”

"I have clothes, you know?" He starts to take off your belt. "Pants too." You can see he wants to get rid of them too.

“You want me to leave your house in your clothes?”

He kisses her. "What?"

You take a deep, annoyed breath. “Fine, I will worry about this later.”

"May I rip these too?"

“No. No more ripping, please.”

"Alright," he says disappointed but lets you take off your pants while he’s simply staring at your breasts.

“At least I have this to wear while going back home,” you say, swinging your underwear.

"You talk so much about leaving."

“Hmm, do I?”

"Yeah." He's obviously trying not to show he's upset, but he's failing. And this makes you happy… the fact he doesn’t want you to leave.

“Does it bother you?”

"No," he whispers and looks at his own pants. "I can just make you feel good, you know? No rush, then I'll drive you home as you want."

You reach for his pants and start to unbuckle it. “I have a mind that… keeps on worrying. I think about stuff I have to do later constantly, but there’s a way to turn it off. At least for a while.”

He tries to stop you. "I can make you feel good, drive you home and take you on a date tomorrow."

You finally understand what he actually means. “What? No. That’s not what I want.”

"Okay. Just wanted to make sure you understand we can stop like any time."

“Oh, I know. I just don’t want to.”

"Okay." He smiles and lets his hands fall down.

“I feel like you are tiptoeing around me. Where’s that Bucky I see at these boring events every week?”

"He's here, just trying to do everything right. But I don't know what you mean by that Bucky."

"I mean that Bucky who doesn't hesitate."

"This is different though. I don't want you to think I am a douche, you know?" He sighs. "I don't want you uncomfortable."

"Your hesitation gives me anxiety. And I know you by now. You don't need to worry about that." You push his pants down and they pool around his ankles. Impatiently, he takes off his boxers himself and steps out of them.

"Alright then. Should we move to the bedroom?"

But you are too busy to finally look at him, all naked, to hear him. He looks better than you anticipated and that makes you even more eager to touch him.

He tries not to smile, but it's hard.

“Uhm… what?”

"Nothing, nothing. Keep going."

“Okay.” You move closer and start kissing him again. You grab him gently yet firmly and start moving your hand slowly, just to get him used to the feeling.

"Fuck." He moans against your lips. "Feels good."

You gently bite his lower lip while you keep moving your hand. It’s still slow, but you pay attention to grab his balls and brush against the tip, just to see his reactions

"Doll..."

“Hmm?” You stop kissing him and look into his eyes as you decide to kneel down.

"Doll, no." He groans. "Fuck, I really dreamed about this, but let's go to bed."

“If you dreamed about it, why are you saying no?”

"Because we can do something else fun for you too."

“Oh, believe me, this is fun.” You take your tongue out, swiping it on the shaft from the bottom to the top, making him moan immediately. “Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lower lip touching the tip. He doesn't even seem to hear you.

“Hmm…” And that’s your answer. You take the tip into your mouth, gently licking. "Oh, shit," He moans and without thinking he wraps his hand around your ponytail.

Your tongue swirls around the tip, occasionally swiping on that sensitive spot that makes him moan really loudly. "Holy fuck." He's fully playing with your hair now. "Baby, please..." He doesn't seem to know what he's begginh for though.

“Hmm?” You silently ask while your tongue keeps working on him.

"We should... stop."

You take your mouth off him for a second, just enough to ask: “Why?” Then you take him right back inside your mouth.

"I'm gonna come," he says a little embarrassed.

He might have wanted you to stop because of that, but you have no intention of doing it. You want him to feel good, so you grab the shaft, moving it up and down while you take your mouth off for a few more seconds.

“Then come.”

Your tongue goes back to the tip, moving in sync with your hand. He can't even ask you if he should pull out because he's already coming in your mouth. You keep moving your head and hand until he finally hisses because of overstimulation.

"Doll."

You look at him while swallowing. “Yeah?”

"Thank you so much, I'm just... fuck me," he groans at the sight in front of him. There is something absolutely sinful about you like this. "I am just really sensitive."

“That’s normal.” You kiss his cock really gently on a spot that wouldn’t cause any discomfort. He lets go of your hair and smiles. You quickly wipe away that line of come dripping down to your chin before he helps you stand up and kisses you hard. You are already unbelievably wet, but the way he uses his tongue takes it to another level. He lifts you in his arms when you least expect and a yelp leaves your lips.

"Gonna take you to the bedroom."

“Yeah, okay.” You wrap your legs around his torso, trying to hide your excitement.

"I'm gonna eat you, okay?" He opens the door with his leg.

The way he says it sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the throbbing between your legs.

"You want to ride my face, pretty doll? Or do you want me on my knees?"

“God…” You think for a second, both options being tempting. “On your knees.”

"You want me on my knees? Want me to beg to eat your pussy?"

“Would you?”

"Beg for it?" He puffs. "For you? Of course."

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

"Just Bucky." He puts you down on the bed and kneels. You laugh a little. His nervousness is definitely fading away. He smiles and starts kissing below your knee. "Please, can I eat you, baby?"

“Oh god… I wanna hear that again.”

"I am begging. Please, allow me." He kisses all the way up.

“It’s all yours.”

He makes the most animalistic sound you've heard from his mouth before and lifts both of your legs over his shoulders.

"Gonna let me do it over and over again?"

“I might wanna do different things in between, but yes…” That makes him smile.

"Thank you." Then he finally starts licking at your entrance.

The first moan you let out sounds like you are trying to catch your breath. Bucky's fingers dig into your thighs when he properly enters you with his tongue.

“Oh god...” That feels amazing. He says nothing, trying to move his tongue around for a little while testing what you like. You instinctively move your hips a little, forcing his tongue closer to your clit.

"Fuck." You barely hear him say as he properly moves his mouth to your clit.

“Yess!” You shake with excitement. Bucky starts to flick his tongue gently on your clit, bringing his hand to your entrance. You don’t realize how you are moving your hips to create more friction. And he adds the first finger inside you without stopping his tongue motion.

“Ahh, yes.” It sounds like you have been waiting for this forever. His free hand goes up just to squeeze and massage each breast as he adds his second finger.

“Bucky, fuck!” It feels like he’s everywhere. His flicks turn into full licks while his fingers move faster.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna- come.” You can already feel your legs shaking. He continues the pace exactly like this and moans against your clit.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuckk. God, please- don’t stop. Please.” He doesn't stop, he couldn't even if he tried, eager to make you come.

After a few seconds, something snaps inside you and finally, you feel loose. Your whole body is shaking and you can’t get enough of the way he makes you feel. The movement of his tongue, the way his fingers move… And it doesn’t end quickly. No, he keeps going and you feel the same high over and over again until it’s too much to bear. You stop him by grabbing a handful of his hair.

“That was… incredible.” He smiles, raising his head enough for you to see how wet he is. “Jesus…” His beard is soaked. You had no idea you were that wet.

"Just Bucky." He repeats the same joke as he licks his lips.

“Your beard… it’s so wet.” You are too shocked to react to his joke.

"Wanna clean it for me?" He winks and god, he looks so charming.

“Come here.” You open your arms.

He hugs you immediately, his beard making contact directly with your breasts as he’s spreading your wetness all over them.

"Oops." He giggles. "Guess I have to clean up my mess."

You giggle, too. “You know you don’t need an excuse to suck my nipples, right?”

"What? This is not what I'm doing. I like to clean."

And just like that, you feel Bucky's tongue all over your tits, making sure to avoid your nipples.

“Hmm… That feels good.” He bites a little the skin on your left breast, and you whine in response.

"Hurting?"

“A little.”

"Sorry, baby." He sucks a little around the bite as an apology.

"It's fine. Come here and gimme a kiss."

"No." He gets stubborn and he finally takes the first nipple into his mouth.

You grab his hair and force him away from your nipple. "You are so stubborn."

"You like pulling my hair."

"I was thinking about pulling it for a long time."

"Why didn't you?"

"Well, I touched it instead of pulling. On our first date."

"Yes." He smiles giving you a small kiss. "Not enough."

“There’s no way I could pull your hair there, you know.”

"True. I would moan."

"You and me both." You giggle again.

"So you felt okay?"

"Okay?"

He smiles. "More than okay?"

"You have no idea how okay that was."

"Probably not. You get to feel pleasure in ways I never will."

"Poor you. We should totally try to change that."

He snorts. "You want to suck me again? Or do you want to fuck me?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"Yeah?" He kisses your cheeks. "That's easy."

"Yeah?" Your hips move a little, rubbing against his erection. "Then what are you waiting for?"

"Gonna be right back." He tries to get up, but you stop him.

"Condom?"

"Yep. Any preference?"

"Yeah, none if possible."

Bucky looks at you confused. "What?” He thinks maybe you meant the flavor. “I can find one without it."

"I meant no condom because I'm on the pill, so it's up to you."

"You sure?" You aren’t sure if he’s excited or surprised.

"Why wouldn't I be? As long as you are clean."

"Want me to bring my blood tests?"

You laugh a little because you know he means it and you couldn’t help but imagine him dutifully showing you the papers. "I will take your word for it, Mr. Barnes."

"Mr Barnes?" He repeats amused as he spreads your legs properly. "Are you gonna call me that when I come inside you, too?"

"Mr. Barnes sounds too formal for that. Gotta find something else for that moment."

He grabs and positions himself at your entrance. "I'm sure you're creative."

You push your hips impatiently. "I will find something fitting."

He enters you without waiting, but he's careful not to hurt you so he stops for a little. You throw your head back because of the way you feel with his cock inside you. A lower, nearly animalistic moan escapes your lips.

"Oh god."

"Please move."

He kisses you gently as he finally starts to thrust slowly. You are so wet that he's moving so smoothly, dragging your walls every time he pulls back and then filling you up all over again.

"Aren't you a wet little doll?" He shifts his weight on his elbows that he places on both sides of your head.

"I’m so unbelievably wet."

"Perfect." He buries his head into your neck and starts to move faster.

“I have been… imagining how… this would feel.”

"Did you dream about it?" He doesn’t miss the chance to ask that.

“Once.”

"Only once?" He tries not to sound disappointed, but he fails.

“Yeah, and I was surprised because I don’t dream about sex.”

"How?" He starts sucking harder.

“Ahh.” You moan softly. “During one of those fancy events.”

"Fuck." He lifts his head to look at you. "Did you dream of me fucking you in the closet? Or the baby changing room?"

“In a dark closet. Suddenly you are all over me.”

"Fucking you from behind? Or holding my baby?"

“You were holding me and- ahh. I was trying to- stay quiet. But- you kept fucking me- harder.” His hips move so fast now you can barely speak.

"Did you scream?"

“I was about to, but I woke up suddenly.”

"Fuck." He groans. "The worst. Did you finish the job?"

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I was so fucking wet.”

"Just...." He closes his eyes. "I'm imagining you using your little fingers under your panties to play with your clit- Shit."

“And it wasn’t enough.”

"No? Poor baby." He leans in to bite your bottom lip for a few seconds.

“It was frustrating.” You moan when he moves his hips a little harder. “Nowhere near… this.”

"Nothing like my cock? Like us?"

“Nuh-huh.”

"God, can't wait to come inside you... to see you dripping."

“Shit, Bucky. You can’t just say things like that.” It makes you clench hard. You need to come. Now.

"Why not? So fucking hot." His thrusts slow down but become deeper at the same time. "Dripping down your thighs. Gonna clean that up for you and share it." He curses. "Gonna pass you my come in a kiss."

“Oh fuck.” His words, the image just pushes you over that edge. “I’m coming. Oh fuck, please don’t come. Not yet. Please.”

"Why not? Do you want me to pull out?" He teases.

“I need one more.” You say while shaking hard. “Just one more.”

"I'm right here," he whispers assuringly. “I'm inside you, not going anywhere. I dreamed about you too." He pauses to curse. "Fuck, I was fucking my bed."

“Tell me… tell me about it.” The orgasm keeps washing you in waves. Over and over again until it fades away.

"You were in my office at work. Came to talk about a gala or we were leaving from there, I don’t know. And we just... we were suddenly kissing and I was ripping off your dress. And I was simply fucking you all over the desk."

“How did it feel?”

"Not even close to this, but it was good. So good. I almost came in my sleep."

“You didn’t come?” You finally feel like your breath is going back to normal.

"I stroked myself after I woke up and came. A lot."

“Made a big mess because of me?”

"Mhm." He brings his fingers to your lips. "And you weren't there to help me."

“I’m here now.”

"Gonna help me this time?" His index finger plays with her bottom lip.

“Oh, I will.” You bite his finger gently. “And no mess this time. I’m here to take every drop of your come.”

"You sure you can?" He teases. "What if it's too much?"

“It’s all mine. I don’t care if it’s too much.”

"I'm all yours."

“Oh, Bucky.” You feel like you are melting. You kiss him on the lips passionately. “I’m all yours, too.”

"Yeah?" He smiles and starts thrusting faster. "Aren't you a pretty little doll? All mine, ready to take my come."

“Yours.” You repeat and that familiar pleasure starts to build up again, but you want to try something else. Something you have been imagining. “Can you… flip me over?”

"Sure," he answers a little surprised, and helps you move.

“I have been imagining how this would feel.”

"Thought you did it only once."

“You know dreaming and imagining are different things, right?” You tease him. You can’t see his expression, but you know he made a face right after hearing your words.

"How many times did you imagine it?'

“Oh, who knows? A lot of times.”

"Tell me what did you imagine when we were like this." He squeezes your hips, so turned on to see your on all fours.

“You fucking me hard.”

"How hard?" He teases leaning in to kiss your back.

“As hard as you can.”

As soon as he starts to properly thrust inside you, a few gasps and whimpers leave his mouth. The positions opens you up in a different way.

"God, this is... fuck me."

“Yeah, I would say- the same.” It’s hard to speak when he is pounding you like this.

"You're making such a mess on the bed, baby. Around my cock. God, so fucking wet."

“Should I apologize for the mess?” You ask cheekily because he seems so gone.

"You should." He squeezes your ass. "By making a bigger mess."

“I think- that’s- possible.”

"Yeah?" He fucks you even harder, properly using his knees and your hips. "You gonna come?"

“Yeah! Please!”

"Please what?"

“Please, daddy.” The words leave your lips before your mind can register them.

"Holy fuck, what did you just say?" He barely manages to keep going, just slowing down. He looks at you as if he doesn't know if he imagined something, and that's how you realize what you said.

“Shit! I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” You start to panic.

"Hey, baby." His voice is soft, assuring. "What are you sorry for?"

“I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I was just… thinking that.”

"God, baby." He tries to turn your head to look into your eyes by grabbing your chin and titling it up. "You think of me as your daddy?"

“Is it bad if I do?”

"Yeah, it's bad because I can come any second when you call me that." He kisses your forehead. "Be a good girl for daddy and try to come, okay?"

“God, Bucky.” You moan because of his words. You’ve imagine this, indeed, a lot of times, but hearing it? It’s something that can’t be described.

He pulls your hair. "Daddy."

“Oh, fuck.” It turns you on even more and you don’t know how that’s even possible. “Yes, daddy.”

"Did you imagine this, too?" He is leaving you breathless with the way he is pounding you, yet he still demands an answer. "Did you imagine calling me daddy while I fuck you like this?"

“Yes.” You are so close to coming. So close that you can taste it. “I did- so many times.”

One of his hands finds your right breast and sqeezes. "Please, come for daddy. Gonna be a good girl and come?"

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuckk, I’m coming!” The way your orgasm hits you makes you lose the last drop of control you had over your body. You can’t think of anything beside Bucky and how good he’s making you feel. His pace quickens for a second before he comes. He doesn't manage to warn you he's coming too, but he doesn't have to. His moan and the feeling of his come are enough.

He keeps it going until both of you finish and when you do, the only thing that you can hear is your loud breaths. Then you feel a trail of kisses all over your back.

“Oh my god,” you finally manage to speak.

"Just Bucky." He reaches your neck. "Or daddy."

You laugh. “God, you are so smug.”

"Smug?" He smiles and pokes your skin with his tongue.

You turn around, finally fully facing him. “Yeah, daddy is real smug.” It feels so good to be able to call him that without worrying about anything else.

"Thank you."

“Who knew Bucky Barnes had a daddy kink?” You can’t help but say.

"Not Bucky Barnes himself." He snorts.

“You just found out?”

"Yeah." He burst into laughter a bit embarrassed. He’s never thought about being called daddy before, especially not in bed, but with you? With you, it just makes sense. It feels hot.

“Oh god, I am so lucky.”

"Did you always have a daddy kink?"

“I didn’t even know I had one before meeting you.”

Bucky's smile is so big. "Fuck, I am the lucky one." He kisses you properly now, immediately trying to open your mouth by licking your bottom lip.

“I thought I would freak you out, but look at you, fully embracing it.”

"How could I not?"

“You liked it that much, daddy?” You wrap your arms around his neck playfully.

"God, I did. You're so hot when you say it. And the way you looked at me."

“How did I look at you?”

"Can't even explain it... I just wanna see that over and over again.”

“Well, you can.”

He scrunches his nose in the most adorable way possible. "Thank you."

“For what?”

"For everything. And for wanting me."

You frown because of that last part. “What does that even mean?”

"Boring older man."

“Handsome older man, who I have been fantasizing about for a while.”

He giggles shily. "You make me sound like a dirty dream."

“Well, it’s because you are.”

"You are mine too."

“Lucky us.”

"You might never get rid off me." He kisses your forehead.

“I might be okay with that.”

It has been a while since you started to date Bucky. After that night, everything slowly started to fall into place. You found a great balance between your lives and your relationship, always making time for each other. You spend a lot of nights at his place. It doesn’t feel like his anymore, it feels like you are living together. Everything is so natural.

“I just got the most unexpected call ever,” you say, still feeling fairly surprised by the job you got offered.

"What was it about?" Bucky is still in bed, surprisingly. He's usually the first the get up and go to the kitchen in the morning.

“Mrs. Moore called me to ask me if my bakery could do the catering for their next event.”

"Oh my god. That’s amazing."

“It is! But I am not sure if I can actually do it.”

Bucky frowns and immediately taps on the bed. "Come here."

You listen to him and continue talking while moving closer. “I haven’t given her the final answer yet, I acted like I need to check in to see if we are available, but the more I think about it, the more I notice how hard it would be.”

"I am gonna say something, but I don't think you'll like it."

“You will say you can help me out.”

"Yep." He gives you the biggest smile. "But it doesn't take away anything from your success or your efforts, okay? Just hear me out."

You take a deep breath. “Okay. I’m listening.” You have been warming up to the idea of him helping you. Maybe not financially, but he has been helping you. He has the best ideas and a great perspective. So you won’t say no to hearing him out.

He reaches to hold your hand.

"Let me take care of the transport and hire the extra stuff who can serve at the party. I'll call a friend." He pauses. "Just this once, okay? You can curse me out later, bit let me help so you can get more jobs in the future. This is a great opportunity."

“How did you even know I needed help with transport?”

"Baby," Bucky giggles at your confused pouty face. "It's a first experience. You don't have employees for this and it's a big party." Then he shurgs, like it wasn’t that hard to guess.

“Transport, service staff, and extra place to store the food. These are the problems I need to solve if I wanna do this.” You list the things you need to be able to take this job.

"Is that a yes?"

“That’s an I am considering it.”

In response, he simply raises on his knees and kisses you, with his hands on your neck. "Good girl."

“I didn’t say yes yet!”

"Ihm."

“If you assume I will say yes, it’s definitely gonna be a no.”

"No, I am very, very, very fucking horny right now."

“Just because I might say yes to your offer for help?”

Bucky blushes. "It's very hot. And I'm so hard..."

“Jesus… You really want a sugar baby, don’t you?” He must have. He loves the idea of taking care of your every need. That would explain why.

"I just like doing this for you."

“Do you like being useful or do you like spoiling?” You insist. You want him to say it.

He makes a sound from the back of his throat. "Can we just focus on you?"

“No, please… Tell me why exactly this turns you on.”

"I don't know." You see the sides of his neck getting red.

“But I wanna know.”

"Please, just..."

“Gimme an answer and I will give you one back.”

He takes a deep breath but doesn't look at you. "I just love spoiling you even though you don't let me."

You smile. “I might let you a little bit.”

"Just..." He sighs embarrassed. "Just ignore me, okay?"

“This is me… saying yes.” You spell it out for him.

"For my help?" He finally looks at you.

“Yeah.”

"Wow.” He sounds completely surprised. “This is... great." He tries to keep his emotions under control. "Then go ahead and uhm, call Moore back as I send a few messages, okay?"

“She can wait a little bit longer.” You gently grab his erection. He has gotten really excited just because you let him help you. It’s just unbelievable yet you love it. You love that he cares about you this much. “I need to take care of daddy first.”

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

Text

Two Sides Of The Same Coin - Chapter 14: "We Were Happy"

"Before I had somewhere to be, back when we had all night, and we were happy..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

Moving Day...

“Is this everything?” Bucky questions, looking at your 3 boxes. Even seeing your minimalist room, he was taken aback by your lack of material possessions that rivaled his own lack of personal property. When Sam called him over this morning, he fully expected to be rooms full of moving boxes and furniture, but there was nothing of the sort, just over a dozen moving boxes.

“That’s everything,” Sam confirms, neatly stacking the last box in the living room. “Most of this stuff came with the house. And she doesn’t have a lot.”

“No kidding,” Bucky mutters.

“Well, it’s not exactly like I’m a great person for shopping for women’s clothes,” Sam huffs defensively “I do my best.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t. Just surprised, I guess,” Bucky shrugs.

“Told you there’s a lot you don’t know,” Sam reminds him. “When we moved in here she had nothing except the poorly-fitting SHIELD sweater on her back. And I’m not exactly a millionaire either.”

“What does that matter?”

“I know you’re old and everything, but there’s this thing called money? It’s a finite resource that you need to buy things nowadays.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Bucky grumbles. “I meant her.”

“You’re asking me about her finances?” Sam questions in disbelief.

Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No. I just meant- Doesn’t she get paid for… anything? She’s going on missions all the time- that can’t be out of the kindness of her heart.”

Sam chuckles bitterly. “You’d be surprised- Hold on, are you asking to be nosy or as a concerned friend?”

“Mmm…depends on the answer.”

“No, to answer your question. The missions, the work- they don’t give her anything. I get a shitty stipend for some of her basic expenses, but even that they put under my name.”

“There’s no way that’s legal,” Bucky says, his voice filled with indignation.

“Probably not. But there’s nothing I can do about it, there’s nothing tangible about her. She's a ghost- if we didn't know her personally, we'd have no idea that she exists. No birth certificate, no social security number, nothing, and they’re dragging their feet doing anything about it.”

“You think they’re doing it on purpose,” Bucky concludes, seeing the look on Sam's face that shows just how much the situation bothers him.

Sam shrugs. “Don’t know. All I know is right now, she’s not a person. She’s an asset. A valuable asset.”

“And you think they want to keep her that way,” Bucky finishes for Sam.

“Fury wants her to be an Avenger. Officially an Avenger, I mean. And to do that, SHIELD would have to give up it’s most valuable asset, give up any claim to her that they have.”

“You make it sound like she’s a toy,” Bucky scoffs.

“It's not that," Sam assures Bucky. "There’s just something about this whole thing that just doesn’t sit right with me. It’s wrong- no rights, no protection, nothing. And she’s out there putting her life on the line.”

“And with a smile on her face,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam nods once. “Exactly.”

"Are you guys done talking about me?" you ask, walking back through the door with a drink tray in your hand.

"What makes you think we're talking about you?" Sam asks, looking away from Bucky, who's still processing everything he'd just learned. Just like that: a few answers, dozens more questions. An endless cycle when it came to you.

"You sent me to get coffee. Alone. Duh," you state like it's completely obvious.

"So? Your arm's still messed up and you can't carry anything."

"But you never send me anywhere alone. Ever. You barely leave me alone as it is."

"She's got you there," Bucky chuckles.

"Shut up," Sam hisses, then turns back to you. "We weren't talking about you."

"You're right, James. He's not a very good liar," you say, placing down the drinks on the counter.

"Told you," Bucky shrugs, walking over to grab his drink.

"Anyway, here's your drinks. Cold brew for James. And a deceptively delicious looking green smoothie for Sam, and a iced tea for me."

And before you know it, all the boxes are packed up and you're standing alone in the place where you'd made so many cherished memories. "I'm going to miss it here," you sigh to yourself as you look at the mostly empty house.

Sam throws an arm around you, not having heard your quiet rumination. "You're probably the best roommate I ever had."

"You're only saying that because I can cook," you chuckle.

"You cooked, I cleaned. It was a pretty good arrangement we had here."

"It was," you sadly agree. You were going to miss this place. You'd miss all the fun moments and memories you'd made here, but just like most things this wasn't really up to you. You knew that, even if most people thought you didn't. Sam tried to give you choices when he could, but a lot of the time, it wasn't even up to him. You two were answering to some distant, intangible organization that practically owned you.

"Don't worry too much," Sam says, addressing your silent concerns. "They'll love you, but even if they don't- I've got your back."

And you keep those words in your mind as you drive away from the first place you'd ever called home to something totally new.

"Welcome to our new home," Sam says, after a mostly silent drive as the car stops pulling up right in front of the large, modern building. "It's going to be great."

"It's going to be great," you repeat, though you're not entirely convinced. There's this strange feeling, the tiniest piece of you filled with dread. You were quick to shake it off, you exhale deeply once before plastering a smile on your face just hoping that they couldn't see right through you.

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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theycallmebecca · 2 years

Text

Drabble: Birthday Fantasy

Hope you are all well this Sunday (or Monday depending on where you are located). Today I have an implied foursome for you.. implied because I don't have the energy to get smutty with it right now. Especially with multiple partners, which is the Kinktober Bingo square I used for this drabble for @the-horniest-book-club

I've always wanted to write something with Steve, Sam and Bucky in a foursome... but that's a lot of body parts to keep track of and well... sometimes it's better left the imagination. 😉

Thanks to @nomadicpixel for the added encouragement.

Title: Birthday Fantasy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader, Sam Wilson x female reader, Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: suggestive

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context.

"We want you to come back to our room with us."

You looked up at Steve who looked deadly in his well-tailored suit then let your eyes drift to either side of him, where his best friends Bucky and Sam stood in similar outfits.

"Me?" you questioned in disbelief.

New to the city, you'd gone out to spend your birthday at a club, not wanting to spend it alone. Somehow, and you still weren't sure how exactly, you'd been invited up to the VIP section. That's where you'd met Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, three ex-military millionaires who had invited you to their table.

The four of you had spent the last two hours talking and getting to know each other. There had been a little bit of flirting and teasing, but none of them had ever made you feel uncomfortable. And your gut said they were good guys.

"Let us make your birthday one to truly remember," Sam said, a smile spreading across his face.

You chewed on your lower lip as you looked at each man again. You'd never been with more than one man before, but it had been a fantasy of yours for a long time. A fantasy that you had never imagined ever being fulfilled.

"We'll take care of you," Bucky said as he held out his hand to you.

You looked at them each one more time before you grabbed your handbag and then took Bucky's hand, allowing him to help you from your seat.

For safety reasons, the four of you took three separate cars to the hotel, Steve and Sam in their own cars and you with Bucky.

"Do you guys do this often?" you asked Bucky.

"No, we've never shared a woman before," Bucky admitted as he held your hand on his thigh. "I know that sounds like a line. But I swear it isn't."

"Why me then?" you asked him.

Bucky was quiet for a minute or so before he finally answered, "We all knew the second you walked into the club. That has never happened before. We all have very different tastes in women. You're the first one who has ever attracted us all."

"I'm nothing -" you started to say, but Bucky's finger to your lips silenced you.

"You are special," he said in a soft, but firm tone. "And tonight is about celebrating you. We'll only do what you want to do and nothing more."

"What if I just wanted to lay on the bed with the three of you?" you teased. "Fully clothed."

"Then we'd lay on the bed fully clothed," Bucky replied with a shrug. "You're in control. Don't forget that."

You and Bucky were the first to arrive at the hotel and he took you up to the penthouse suite that overlooked the city below. He humored you by giving you a tour of the ridiculously large accommodations that the three had booked for their trip.

"If you're all millionaires, why are you sharing one suite?" you asked him.

"It's cheaper this way," Bucky replied. "Plus it means we can get drunk playing poker and don't have to leave the suite to go to our rooms."

"I imagine it's less lonely that way too," you observed.

Bucky gave you a warm smile and said, "I'm sure by your next birthday you'll have some new friends in the city to have a party with."

You crossed your fingers and smiled before asking, "Where are Steve and Sam?"

"They'll be here soon," Bucky replied. "They had to run a couple errands."

The "errands" it turned out were to pick up a cake and some presents, all of which turned out to be from an upscale sex shop.

"You're in control." Bucky's words replayed in your head as you watched the three men enjoy the cake, especially Sam as he cleaned his fork with his tongue, not leaving a single speck of frosting on it.

Pushing back your chair, you stood up, causing all three men to look up at you. You looked at each of them in turn and then you turned around, letting them watch from behind as you pulled the zipping down on your dress.

No one spoke as you slipped your arms from the sleeves and the dress fluttered to the ground.

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peachycrxmes · 2 years

Text

Indecent proposal

Note:Here we go guys! This is my first ever fic.Hope you love it.I suck at writing summaries.Sorry in advance.Also, DISCLAIMER:This is just a fic.Hopefully a good written one.

Summary:Bucky Barnes loved you since the moment he saw you.You love him because he is the only person in your life who truly loves you for you.After your parents find out about the affair, you did three things.You quit medical school,eloped and got married.You were the happiest even with the tiniest achievements in your life.You got a job as a real estate broker after many requests at different places and Bucky found a hotel where he worked as an assistant chef.After the recession hit, you were both desperate to bounce back from unemployment and to afford to pay for the dream place near the ocean, where you wanted to build your dream hotel.You go to Las Vegas to try your luck in a casino with the remaining money you have but, you came too close before losing it all.When millionaire August Walker approaches you with an indecent proposal, you begin to fear the possibility of losing your marriage.Can your love stay strong through it all?

Warnings:FLUFF, SMUT, 18+ series, Bucky being a lovesick puppy,Mentions of toxic relationship and toxic parents,Toxic August,Coercion,Dub!con August...

Part-I

Part-II

Part-III (soon...)

Part-IV (soon...)

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jorrisy · 5 months

Text

Save this Christmas

December 24 is one of the many days that Bucky fears and despises throughout the year. It's His Birthday. For as long as Bucky can remember, he has hated, hated, absolutely hated him with every fiber of his being. But still not as much as he hated Christmas.

Bucky didn't know who or what caused this burning hatred of what should be «the most wonderful time of the year,» but he hated this fun holiday, gifts, Christmas trees, lights, cold weather, decorations, «Santa» and everything connected with it.

Bucky was sitting in his black leather massage chair, holding croissants and waffles on his lap. He frowned when he heard his phone ring, and reluctantly got up to get it, pouring all the crumbs on himself.

«Hello,» he grumbled into the phone.

— Bucky, buddy! How are you? It's me, Sam. I just wanted to wish you a happy… one second,» Sam stopped, «yes, baby, Santa is married. No, dear, I don't think he has children.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam was probably talking to his seven-year-old daughter right now.

— I'll answer any question if you let me finish the call, beautiful. Thanks, honey. Anyway, Bucky, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! And Daniel and the girls wish you well too.

— Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that,» Bucky muttered in a monotone.

— Any time, my friend. Are you going to do something fun today?

— Very funny. You know how much I hate my birthday.

«Come on, Buck. You have to do something today. Maybe you can use the gift card I sent you to buy something for yourself,» Sam suggested.

— Maybe, Sam. Thanks again for the call and for the gift.

— You're welcome, buddy. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Bucky slammed down the phone and exhaled sharply.

Birthday, damn it.

He rubbed his eyes and trudged into the bathroom. He looked at his handsome, young, shaved face in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair.

«You don't look much older, Buck,» he muttered to his reflection, «you still don't look twenty-one.»

He wandered into his bedroom to change into suitable street clothes. He also sprayed cologne on himself before slipping his feet into his Gucci loafers.

He grabbed the TV remote and started aimlessly flipping channels.

«Today, James Barnes's son turns twenty-one. We wish this young millionaire happiness and health on his birthday,» said the host of some shabby gossip show.

Bucky, rolling his eyes, turned off the TV and, grabbing his keys and wallet, left his apartment. He wandered the streets, wondering which store to go to first. He always loved shopping, it was his secret passion.

Bucky had a lot of secrets, but his biggest, secret, juicy one was probably that he was gay. Only the closest relatives knew about it. His father wanted nothing to do with him after learning that his only son loved boys.

— You will ruin my image, the family business. You don't even know who gays are. You're a naive sixteen-year-old boy,» he told him.

As soon as Bucky turned eighteen, he left his parents' apartment and bought his own, which his father would not even notice. He still had access to the family bank account, thanks to his mother, Jay, who loves him no matter who he is.

Bucky finally stopped in front of a London jewelry store and looked through the window before pressing the door handle and entering the store.

He notices a beautiful gold watch in the window and tells the cashier that this is what he wants to buy. Bucky took out the gift card that Sam had given him, but it only covered half the payment, so he handed it to the lady at the checkout along with his credit card.

— Hey, you're Mark's son, right? Mark Barnes? The young brunette at the checkout asked.

Bucky nodded as she handed him his box.

— I only drink your father's wine. It's so good,» the girl opened up.

«Thanks,» Bucky muttered as he left the store.

Past expensive shops, he wanders aimlessly through the streets of London, stopping only when he hears someone singing. A strong, melodious, beautiful, soothing voice. Bucky craned his neck to see where the sound was coming from. It was a young curly-haired guy sitting at the exit of Tiffany &Co., who looked about seventeen years old. Without realizing it, Bucky was attracted to the boy's voice, so he woke up already near him. Many people passed by him, some throwing coins and banknotes. The boy was sitting cross-legged and playing the ukulele «Hey, soul sister» | «Hey, soul mate».

His face was dirty, covered with red marks. His ears were bloody, and there were dark, purple abrasions on his arms and neck. The clothes are torn and cut. And on his slender legs there were many scratches and one sock. His eyes were a bright green color that seemed to hypnotize Bucky.

When the boy finished singing, he looked at Bucky, who slowly clapped his hands.

«Thank you,» he said, flashing a dazzling smile.

«You're very talented,» Bucky heard himself say.

«Thank you,» he blushed.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out twenty banknotes.

— Oh, no, please don't! You stopped and listened to me, while the others just walked by. Believe me, it's enough for me that you listened to me sing.

«You have a very beautiful voice,» Bucky admitted sheepishly.

«And I insist,» he added, putting the money in a small basket that stood in front of the boy.

— Thank you very much! I really appreciate it.

— Hmm, if you don't mind, I'll ask you: are you…

— Homeless? Yes,» he frowned, tearing Bucky's heart out.

«But you're just a kid.»

«Hey, I'm eighteen years old,» the boy protested.

«You're still too young to be here alone.» What happened to your parents?

— My father bullied me, and my mother died when I was a child.

Yes, this guy knew how to make Bucky's heart freeze.

— Don't you have any brothers or sisters?

«No,» he replied, scratching his neck.

Bucky rubbed his eyes.

— Do you have a name?

— Steven Grant Rogers. And you?

— James Buchanan Barnes.

— Barnes, Barnes. I think I've heard that name somewhere before,» Steve looked at him, «Oh, yes! I heard people talking about some kind of drink from that Barnes guy.

Bucky shuddered.

— Yes, this is my father.

«Oh, you-» Steve began, but another voice interrupted him.

— Hey, dude, happy Birthday.

Bucky turned around and saw his old school buddy, Clint Barton, walking hand in hand with some tall blonde.

— Thanks, Clint.

He nodded and walked on.

— Is it your birthday today? Steve exclaimed excitedly.

— yes.

— Happy Birthday! It's amazing. How old are you?

«Twenty-one.»

— Really? You look younger.

— Is it good?

«Yes,» Steve smiled cheekily, which made Bucky's cheeks turn red.

— Are you organizing something special?

«No,» Bucky shook his head.

— what? Why? It's your birthday!!! Everyone should do something special on a day like this!

«I hate my birthday,» Bucky muttered under his breath.

— But why?

«I don't know,» Bucky shrugged.

— What about Christmas? You must love Christmas! Steve's eyes lit up, and innocence oozed out of his voice.

Bucky noticed that he was smiling because of the boy's childish behavior.

— no. I hate Christmas even more than my birthday,» Bucky confessed.

— Oh, Bucky! You don't understand what you're missing! Christmas is an incredible holiday!!! Not even because of the gifts, but because of the people you love. A holiday in which gifts are more pleasant to give than to receive is…» the boy stopped and looked down at the ground, biting his lip, «No one has ever loved me before, but I still love Christmas. I love jewelry, beautiful lights, I like to see love in people, and sometimes I go to this little cafe around the corner that gives me free hot chocolate,» Steve rubbed his eyes, «You know, I've always wondered what it's like to be in love… It looks magical.

— Have you never been in love before?

Steve nodded.

«I think we have something in common,» Bucky smiled, and his cheeks turned pink.

— You are not what they say about you here.

— Do people think I'm pathetic? «What is it?» he asked with a satisfied grin.

— I mean, sometimes I've heard people talking and they don't say very nice things about you.

«Everyone says that, I think,» he sighed.

«Hmm, can I ask you something else?»

«Of course, anything,» Steve reminds me.

— What happened to your other sock?

Steve giggled.

«I know it sounds pretty stupid, I'm just curious…» Bucky's voice trailed off.

— I had shoes, but I grew out of them. And I had two socks until yesterday. I lost it when I was trampled by a crowd of angry shoppers.

Bucky's heart fluttered again. How is it possible that this guy broke his heart in a matter of minutes? He suddenly had the urge to grab Steve in his arms and carry him home, away from this harsh world.

«I'm sorry, Steve.

«It's okay, you didn't do anything,» he smiled weakly in response.

— Steve, I know that we just met and that's it, but you… I do not know… maybe you want to go to my house and maybe have tea with croissants?

Steve's smile widened.

— You know, I'm certainly not that educated, but I don't think I should go to strangers' apartments.

«I just…I can't see you sitting here in this cold,» Bucky admitted shyly.

Steve chuckled.

— I was just joking. That's very nice of you, thank you.

— Well, then. Let's go, shall we?

Steve nodded and slowly stood up, leaning on Bucky's arm to regain his balance.

He was much taller than Bucky, although he looked very tiny when he sat cross-legged.

— Can I buy you a pair of socks? Bucky blurted out, looking at Steve's bare feet.

— No, Bucky. You've done enough for me already.

«Please, Steve. Just one stupid pair of socks for you. Please? Bucky pleaded.

Steve opened his mouth to refuse, but was silenced by Bucky' icy gaze.

#me #del #fic #for b

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philtstone · 2 years

Note

Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”

soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s. this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u

Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.

Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things.

Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died.

HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT

The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947

Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.

The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.

“You threw the weapon out.”

She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.

Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”

“James.”

James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.

“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.”

Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste.

“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.

Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –

“Dugan’s coming over.”

“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.

Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow.

“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”

“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”

“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”

“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.

“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”

“I am, you mean.”

Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.

“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”

Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.

“So?”

“I’ll poke around at SSR –”

“You really do think it’s a spy –”

“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.”

“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.

Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”

“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”

“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet.

She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less.

He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill.

Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears.

“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”

The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.

“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”

“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.

“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.

“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”

Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”

“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”

“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully.

“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”

Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.

“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.

Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning.

“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters.

There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.

Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched.

Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.

“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.

She ain’t wrong.

The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?

Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box.

He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters.

“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.”

Then he narrows his eyes.

There.

Right there.

Someone has picked the lock.

The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”

Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.

Inhaling sharply, he pounces.

“Oomph!”

“Shit!”

On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.

Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.

They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack.

He really liked that knife, dammit.

“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.

“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.

Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford.

“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled.

Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.

“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”

“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.

“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”

“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,

“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.

“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.

He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too?

It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.

And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.

“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.”

But alas, there’s no kidding to be had.

“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”

Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence?

And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.

“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.

Then it is back to its customary scowl.

“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar.

But Sam is still annoyed.

“Through the window?”

“There’s – a stairwell.”

“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”

“For the love of God –”

“I am just listing my options, here.”

“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”

“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”

“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.

“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.

Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.

“Fuck!”

Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans.

“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.

“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”

“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”

“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.

Bang.

“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.

Bang.

“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.

Bang.

“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”

Bang.

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!”

Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.

They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.

Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react.

And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.

Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.

“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.

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