#Bucky Barnes x reader
𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
Summary: When you first started dating Bucky, he told you that you’d never have to lift a finger again, and he really meant it.
Pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Insomnia and nightmares. Fluff!
Bucky never got much sleep these days. Even before he met you, his nightmares were far too violent and his thoughts were far too intrusive to even consider winding down and letting him sleep peacefully. This was one of the first things you noticed about him. He seemed like he never slept. That was his one fault in a sea of perfection, so you didn’t really take it into consideration. As long as he was relatively sane- and most importantly, happy- you figured he was fine.
He’d hoped falling in love with you would help ease this issue, but it only made it worse. Now he had you- a perfect creature crafted by heaven in his eyes- and that meant he had something to lose. Just the thought of being without you sent him in a spiral sometimes. So, he spent all his waking energy making sure you were just as happy and in love as he was.
He’d lay with you in your bed until you were out, then carefully peel himself off of you and out of bed, making his way to the living room. That way, if someone came in during the night, they’d get to him before you. The idea of someone breaking in and getting to you before him, possibly hurting you? Absolutely not. He’d put his life on the line any day for you.
Bucky would spend all night awake, flinching at any settling sounds the house made or any branch that hit the window. Alpine, the cat you two shared, would join him occasionally if she weren’t sleeping herself.
He would check every lock on the windows and doors throughout the house to make sure they were locked and wouldn’t budge. The security and fire alarms were always up-to-date as far as tech and battery life, in the off chance he had to go on an overnight mission. Though he hated doing it, at the very least, he could make sure you were safe while he was away. You could take care of yourself, Bucky knew that. But he liked protecting you. When you first started dating him, he told you that you’d never have to lift a finger again, and he really meant it.
Bucky had your alarm times memorized, and he knew your sleep patterns well enough to know exactly when you’d wake up. But he could do better than that.
Every morning, Bucky took the time to stop cooking breakfast for a few minutes to come back into the bedroom, turn off your alarms, and wake you up himself gently. Those alarms were too loud and harsh for your perfect ears. He’d kiss against your face and lips until you were awake.
Throughout the night, Bucky would double, triple, and quadruple-check every door and window for break ins. But he’d also check them to make sure they didn’t creak. He was harshly reminded of one time he went into your shared closet to grab one of his jackets and the door creaked. You lightly stirred at the sound, and Bucky’s head nearly spun off of his body when he went to check if you’d woken up. He fixed it with some lubricant one afternoon when you weren’t home, so he ensured himself that nothing like that would happen again. There would be absolutely no harsh noises that would wake you up out of your beautiful slumber, not under this roof. Bucky would always go out of his way to make sure you were properly rested, which was odd, considering he didn’t put in the same efforts with himself.
It wasn’t like Bucky never slept- he did occasionally. But no more than an hour or two. He had Alpine to keep him company, and he’d always tell you that he just woke up slightly before you to feed her.
That cat, as much as Bucky loved her, had her faults as well. Every time Bucky brought out her breakfast, she’d meow very enthusiastically, excited about her meal.
“Shhh, sweetie, Mama’s still asleep.” He’d always whisper, rubbing the top of her head. She would always rush to her food, gobbling it up as if Bucky was going to take it away.
When Bucky did sleep, it was for no more than two hours, in an upright seated position on the living room couch. He always tried to stay alert, and he’d always be a little hard on himself if he realized he fell asleep briefly in the night.
As much as Bucky tried to keep it from you, you could tell. There would be days where the bags under his eyes were darker than normal, and he’d often drift into his own thoughts.
You didn’t think it was a serious problem until you reached for him in bed one night and he wasn’t there. When you found him on the couch, eyes closed and just starting to doze off, you realized just how much Bucky was struggling.
“Bucky,” you cooed, softly petting his hair as you watched him slowly wake up. You couldn’t blame him for doing this to himself. After decades of fighting and war and torture, Bucky felt like what he had now, a normal life, a love, a person to call home, would be lost if he didn’t do everything in his power to protect it. That, and his internal clock was too set in stone now to change. He was used to being up all night, barely getting any sleep. He didn’t want to subject you to that. Even now, knowing you’d woken up out of your sweet dreams because of him, he was silently beating himself up about it.
“Hey angel,” he said with sleepy eyes. He brought a hand to your hair, giving you a genuine smile.
“Come back to bed,” you said. Your big dough eyes were enough to make his heart melt.
Who was he to say no to you?
He grabbed your hand, pulling you in close for a hug. Above everything- a good night’s sleep, a chance to shed a few tears, a nice long therapy session- Bucky needed to be in your embrace the most at this moment. There was an unspoken understanding that you knew more than Bucky was letting on, but he didn’t mind it. For a second, he let go of the reigns and let you take over.
“One of these days I’ll have you sleep through the night.” You teased.
“Honey, you can do many things,” Bucky said, “but I don’t think you can change this.”
You guided him back to your bedroom, “Don’t doubt me, Barnes.”
He let out a light chuckle as he got into bed with you.
“It’s just… too warm. Too soft. It doesn’t feel good.” He said.
“Lay on your side instead of your back,” you suggested, “and take this off.” You tugged at his shirt as Bucky complied.
You faced him, your hand running up and down his bare back. The feeling of your fingernails against his warm skin was enough to make Bucky’s eyes flutter shut yet again.
He was lost in you. The feeling of your hands on his body, the sound of your breath, the faint thumping of your heartbeat. It all relaxed him so much that he didn’t know what to do other than keep his eyes shut and rest his head against your shoulder.
Bucky slept. The most wonderful sleep he’d ever had in his many, many years of life.
For a full eight hours, Bucky slept.
He woke up the next morning to Alpine lightly purring as she slept in your spot on the bed. His head and eyelids felt heavy, and he had a weirdly calm feeling in his chest, despite his initial worry of not seeing you asleep next to him. There was a note sitting on top of your pillow, and next to a quickly scribbled heart was your handwriting.
“At work. You looked too peaceful to wake up.”
Bucky laughed lightly. So that’s what the feeling was.
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Coming In Hot
— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
— Summary: When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem.
A hot, polite, gentle and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
— Word count: 10k
— A/n: If you enjoy it, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged and motivates me to write even more. mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
◦➳ series playlist ♫ ◦➳ nyx masterlist
Series Masterlist — Previous Chapter
There's a certain peace and power in being surrounded by all of your favorite people.
It's the kind of peace that before certain people arrived in your life, you had only felt in garages on Sundays, drinking Cola and listening to the radio while engines run.
Now, the smell of food being cooked inside the house and trailing to the outside where you and most of the others sit by the lake, plus the noise of conversation and Peter's distinct loud laughter in the back—that's peace.
It's a movie scene. One of those rare moments when it feels good to be alive.
Across the lake, Bucky's sitting on one side of his bike while Natasha's on the other following his instructions—feeling your eyes on him, Bucky looks up from the timing belt and catches your eyes.
He tilts his head a little, and you keep watching, a smile opening on your face.
Bucky realizes you're not going to look away and finds amusement in that—he laughs to himself, looking away from you with a shake of his head.
He then frowns at something Natasha is doing, and reprehends her with a roll of his eyes. She looks up at him with the utmost annoyance in her brows, and they go right back to arguing.
"Is it always gonna be like this?" You ask, finally looking away.
At your side, Steve looks up from his book to see what you mean and when his eyes catch what is happening on the other side of the laker, he snickers. "Oh, yeah."
Down by the right side of your chair, Gabe hums on top of his Mojito cup. "Hmhm. Yup. A couple of months ago I saw Sam and Bucky just... flipping each other off." He looks up at you, twisting his mustache. "Continuously. Back and forth. Just—" Gabe starts mimicking one finger being given after the other, and Morita starts laughing.
After the fifth or sixth middle finger, Morita reaches to grab Gabe's excited hands. "I think they got it," Morita nods.
Behind you, MJ stops the braid she's doing to lean over and observe the scene in front of her.
On the other side, Bucky is laughing delighted, and you can hear him saying 'yeah, you see the difference?' and your heart flutters a little.
MJ pins you with a look and a smirk. "She's going easy on him." She lifts her eyebrows. "Why."
You inch your sunglasses lower a little, observing Nat nodding along to whatever complicated bike engineering he's teaching her about.
The past few days, Natasha had kept Bucky walking on his toes around her—never offered him a bone, always crispy-polite when he spoke to her; you knew her game well. She was intimidating him by doing nothing at all, and you knew what MJ meant with 'taking it easy'.
Natasha took it easy with people whose opinion she knew mattered to you and would matter in the future, meaning she saw in Bucky someone who would be around for a while.
You look at MJ. "She knows he doesn't know everything that went through between us yet."
At the same time Steve hums in sympathy in front of you, MJ goes: "Ah."
"Yeah," you chuckle.
Steve rests his head against the chair and looks up at you. "Don't worry. If he's teaching her somethin', that's Buck language for a hug and a kiss on the forehead."
Your eyes and attention shifted between the group surrounding you by the lake and the chaotic group of idiots you adored on the other side of the lake.
You nodded in agreement. Bucky took a while to warm up to people—when Nat had mentioned her new bike and how much she thought his own was beautiful, how much she'd love to know some things about them so she wouldn't have to go to a mechanic over there too often and Bucky's response was, "Want me to teach you some stuff?" your heart had done some acrobatics inside your chest.
"Nat letting someone help is Nat language for 'you're cool and we can be friends'," you tell everyone.
Gabe points to where Yelena is sitting, watching Nat and Bucky on top of the rock. "That one is easy to make friends with, huh?"
Yelena, almost as if sensing you're all talking about her, looks over to you guys and waves excitedly. "Nah." Everyone turns around to you with a look that questions whether you've lost your mind or not, but you shrug at all of them. "It's true. You know how Nat and Bucky give off those vibes to everyone but us?" They all nod. "Yelena gives off that vibe to everyone too... unless she's around Nat. Or me." They all hum in surprise, and you close your eyes when the feeling of MJ's fingers goes back to working on your hair. "I'm happy you guys like them."
Steve pats your calf. "We know they're part of the package and we're keeping you. Thank god we like them," he sasses.
You laugh at him, and MJ snickers behind you to stand still.
Inside of the house, you can hear Sarah's boys playing video games and now, the smell of whatever it is the Wilsons are cooking is truly starting to take over the air.
Steve seems to pick up on that at the same time as you, 'cause he sniffs the air around him and starts craning his neck to get a look at the kitchen. "What on earth are they cooking in there?"
Morita hums at the back of his throat. "You're a lucky man, Cap." He huffs. "That's a damn good family to marry into."
To innocent ears, the compliment might've sounded very nice, but you feel MJ snickering behind you just as you try to hide your own laughter.
Steve, always so smart, knows better too and sees right through the bullshit. "Aht—knock it off." He slaps Morita on the arm, and the man laughs at him, unashamed of his boldness. "You guys and your stupid fucking poll." Steve throws his arms up. "We're not getting married! Not now, at least!"
MJ lets go of any pretense of hiding her laughter when Steve slaps his friend, but she recovers quickly to tell him. "Oh, c'mon Steve. Don't pretend you haven't bought that man a ring already."
Steve gasps in shock, and it's such a genuine and loud gasp that it catches everyone by surprise. He points an accusatory finger at MJ and then looks over to the other side of the lake, where Peter's laughter can be heard on top of Natasha's voice. "That TRAITOR!"
At the word, Peter's head snaps to where everyone is on the lake.
Everyone, including you, gasps at the realization of what Steve falsely assumed... and ended up revealing in the meantime.
"YOU DID?!" MJ yells the question.
Watching the realization hit Steve's face is almost as priceless as knowing that Steve Grant Rogers bought Sam Wilson a ring.
You watch as his eyes go from accusatory to wide in horror, and then his eyebrows crease in pain. Morita and Gabe start causing absolute havoc, and you're too shocked and happy to do anything but stand there with your mouth wide open and a smile splitting your face in half.
Steve, beet red and also beating himself over his misinterpretation, gets up from the chaos that has installed between a yelling Gabe, Morita, MJ and fastly approaching Peter ("What's up what's up what's up why did he yell at me—") and starts walking in direction of the house.
MJ gets up from the chair behind you and starts singing the wedding waltz, and that's finally what snaps you out of your shock.
Immediately, you pull her down by the waist and start shushing her. "Shushhhh, oh my god, Gabe, shut up! Are you guys kidding me?!" you scream whisper. "Make it more obvious, would ya?! Let the man keep his secret at least from the person who's meant to be surprised, huh?!" You point vigorously at the house, looking at them like one looks at children who forgot that this is supposed to be a surprise party.
The three of them clasp their hands over their mouth, and you sigh dramatically. "If he finds out because of y'all, I'm killing you. I swear I am."
Peter, between ragged breaths, looks between you all with wide eyes. "Who told you?" He whines.
For the second time, you feel MJ hiding behind you, and when Peter cries out a betrayed, "Babe?", you can't help but laugh.
Your eyes find a pair of blue ones on the other side of the lake, and sharing your moment of happiness with him makes it even better somehow.
Meet me at the Willow at 2.
The words had been whispered to you while dinner was served and everyone navigated each other in the kitchen; Bucky had slid behind you at the plate line, whispered that at the shell of your ear, and fucked right off the kitchen, leaving you standing there confused for a moment.
Confused and giddy, for that was the right word—giddy; as if you were a teenager; as if this was all a joyous new thing to experience.
Bucky said the words and created a monarch dynasty in your belly, butterflies fluttering with his wink as he left, with your eagerness to wait for the clock to strike midnight so everyone would retire to their beds and you could watch the minutes pass by.
It was stupid and foolish, but it felt good.
At one-thirty, you kiss Nat's sleeping forehead, remove her cellphone from her hand before it falls on the wooden floor, slips it under her pillow, and leave for a smoke at the back porch.
There was no privacy at the lake house.
Surely, among a group of adults, no one lived under the impression to share a roof with prudes; on the contrary: having a group of intimate friends you were learning, meant sharing the good, the bad, the weird, and the extremely personal.
Still. Common courtesy indicated no loud, delicious sex when you shared literally the same room with somebody else.
A thin wall? Acceptable. One can shove their heads under a pillow and go back to bed, ignoring the grunting and moaning on the other side, but when it's sleeping right next to you?
A little rude.
Not that you and Bucky were meeting to fuck behind a tree, like an actual couple of teenagers—no. You had better self-control than that (you hoped), and taking things at their own time was not a problem for neither one of you.
But god, you missed making out with him.
Kissing, tasting him, teasing him for more than an hour, feeling the way he likes to map your body with his hands—fuck, his hands.
You put out the smoke, glanced at your clock, and thanked the summer heat for making nights just as perfect as days as you walk to the willow tree at the back of the lake.
Sitting under it in his baggy, black shorts and one of your favorite t-shirts of his, smoking a cigarette with a phone in his hand and a blanket underneath him, is Bucky.
When he sees you, Bucky smiles at the side, then pats the place on the blanket next to him.
You walk to him, and instead of sitting where he suggested, stops in front of his crossed legs, looking down at him with no reservation to your thoughts.
He's always been good at reading them. Bucky's incredible at reading you, and if someone said you were once a book on his shelf in this or any other life, you'd believe them.
His legs all but melt in front of him, uncrossing in a clear invitation. To make matters better, Bucky opens his arms wide, leaving his cigarette dangling from his mouth—waiting. Open.
You sit down on his lap and his arms close around your waist.
"I'm glad you found the location easy, ma'am," he teases, making you laugh.
The theatrical side of him is something few people know, and you, personally, adore. His voice gets carried easily in the dark and the silence of the night; you take the cigarette from his lips and lead it to yours, take a puff and then put it out in the trunk behind his head.
Bucky pouts at you. "I wasn't done with that," he whines a little.
You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes. "Don't care." You'd missed him. Missed being close to his body so much, so the first thing you do is get closer—wrap your arms around his neck and interlace your fingers in his soft, growing hair.
His hair's getting longer again.
The days here at the lake house did him good; Bucky looks healthy, tanned; there's a glow on his skin that's almost unfair and his hair feels made of silk.
"You look so pretty, Buck," you whisper to him.
Bucky's eyes are on your mouth, and even in the dark, you can see the color rising on his cheeks. "What's with you and callin' me pretty lately?" He asks with a shy chuckle.
You shrug your shoulders. "Dunno. Just thought you should know," you voice softly.
He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but seems to miss the words to answer you.
To give him a way out, you lean closer and place a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I like how long your hair's getting. You plan on cutting it?"
The question is asked while you measure the length of his locks with your fingers, in the same way that a barber does before taking the tips out with a scissor.
Bucky remains quiet for a couple more seconds under you, but when he finally answers, your movements halt on his head. "Dunno yet. Hey, Y/N. You really think I'm pretty?"
The measuring stops. Your heart falters, skips, trips. It falls, and the floor of your chest echoes with the shatter.
Your body inches back slowly, to avoid spreading the pieces under places you'll never find again.
Bucky's looking straight ahead—eyes fixed on the necklace around your neck, both of his hands tight on your waist. With care, you cup his face into your hands and lift it until his eyes meet yours. "Bucky." The moonlight does wonders with his eyes, and you're growing to love the privilege of seeing him under a light that only you get the opportunity. "You. Are the prettiest person. I have ever seen."
He blinks through watery eyes at how much emotion slips out of your mouth alongside your words, and both of you have to swallow down the knots of tears that belong to another moment.
You kiss his pink cheeks, one by one. "So pretty, Sargeant." A kiss between his eyes. Catching a sniff of his citrus-smelling hair, you add "and you smell so nice." Bucky chuckles under you, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. "Except after your runs."
Now, he laughs harder. He kisses your sternum, and you sigh. "Thanks, doll." He looks up at you, his face still safe and happily tucked in your hands. "I ask 'cause... you're the most beautiful ever. So. You deserve to be with someone you think 's pretty."
God, this man's beauty will be your ruin.
His outer beauty, his inner one, too. Your smile widens, and you suddenly hate every breath you take without having kissed him at least once. "Trust me. I'm right where I should be." Wiggling on top of him, you adjust your legs around his waist and tuck your feet under his thigh, just a little. "Kiss, please?"
Bucky's eyes lose some of the blue with the question, and he obliges with that smile that always steals some of your breath and melts your insides a bit.
He closes the distance slowly, and his lips are soft and wet when they suck on yours.
Kissing Bucky is the smoothest bike ride you've ever been on.
If you unlearned everything overnight because of a mysterious reason or a curse, maybe a true kiss would be real, then. You're certain that having his mouth on yours would come back to you, sure as the Sun does every day.
Whether it's the same rhythm as you, or the way Bucky enjoys kissing, just like you—his lips on yours are a sweet taste you can't get enough of. Never could, never will.
Bucky sucks on your tongue and kisses you until you're both breathless. He lets you get some air, gasping through raggedy breaths, as he sucks on your neck and licks on your neck with abandon.
He licks a stripe from the middle of your clavicle all the way up, finishing right under your chin. It's ticklish, and your giggles get eaten by his hungry lips once again.
You suck on his moans and swallow down the grunting noises he offers you; kissing Bucky always makes your body come alive, your head spinning with the lack of oxygen and your lower body melting with the heated need that overtakes everything.
He kisses you with his right hand fisting your hair at the nape, his left hand gripping your waist, your ass, pulling you closer and further at the same time—Bucky wants you closer, but the more you sit and sigh in his arms, the more you rub yourself against his cock, which is rapidly answering to your hips and filling up inside his sweater-shorts.
When his left hand grips your waist tight enough to leave bruises and pull a whine out of your mouth, you both go still at the same time.
You take a deep breath together, inhaling the same air, right against each other's mouths.
Bucky smiles, and you try your damn best to not move. His iron-grip on your waist is what's guiding you now, and you did say to yourself you had better self-control than this. "Fuck, baby," Bucky's voice is wrecked.
It twists the knife on your stomach—the one made of butter, cutting through you like you're made of honey.
He might be wearing boxers. Whether he is or not, you can feel the outline of his dick nestled between the lips of your pussy, even through the layers of your panties and your sleeping shorts.
You hum, and press a tentative, innocent kiss on his lips. "Sorry." When he smiles, his grip on your waist loosens, but you remain still. "I thought you had come here to read for me... or something," you joke.
It works—Bucky's laughter is suppressed on your sternum, and you try not to think about how close his lips are to your nipples. He's trying to keep it quiet; the laughter can be carried through the wind and end up waking someone up in a frighten inside the house.
Fuck. You'd wake up everybody and kick them all out if it meant he just went back to kissing you right now.
"I was reading Ham on Rye before you came," he whispers to you.
For a moment, your mind finds a safe boat. "Ah! Your first read or re-read?"
Bucky kisses your exposed shoulder, and the imaginary safe boat floats away like a popped balloon. "Re-read, but—first time I read it I was pretty young, so it's kinda like a first read?"
He hums thoughtfully, and you know he isn't done yet.
Another kiss is placed, higher up on your shoulder this time, and you wonder if you're safe to relax the bottom half of your body without going back to circling his hips like a bitch in heat. Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how much he behaves, too.
"I like it," Bucky adds, kissing the column of your throat. So much for behaving. "But that's not much of a surprise. I like the dirty old man."
The silly nickname and jab at one of the author's titles make you giggle. "He really was one, wasn't he?"
Bucky laughs, but it's with his stubble scratching your throat. Your own laugher dies in a little whine. "Guess we share a trait, then."
"You're not..." your words trail off, ending in a soft gasp. Bucky sucks on your earlobe, and his hips buck up a fraction, and you never had a chance; not when he feels so desperate underneath you. "Dirty old man," you whisper.
There's a low hum as Bucky kisses more of your throat. "Dunno if I always was one, or if you just—you got this power to awaken somethin' in me." Bucky takes both of his hands from your body and places them on your cheeks, turning your focus entirely on him. "I used to be a real smooth fucker before, you know?" He whispers, stealing every ounce of your attention.
It's unnecessary detailing before 'what'; whenever Bucky mentions 'before', he's referring to the army and, more specifically, his injury. Your body is frozen on top of his, listening attentively and feeling his fingers caressing your cheeks.
"I was always a decent-looking fella," he says in mock-humbleness, and you roll your eyes at him. He chuckles, but continues in a more somber tone. "But after things like that, it's. Fuck. You lose touch with yourself and—things that felt normal before. They're harder. New, all over again." Bucky leans up and kisses you, and you melt around him in an embrace. "I'm sorry I got so overwhelmed that morning... I never. Before you—the women I'd been with; they hadn't noticed the thing I do. I don't think I had either? It had—it'd been a while since I looked at someone I was being intimate with. And... I think knowing you really think all the things you say about me helped me... see myself. A new light, a bit better, all that yadda."
The way he finishes does little to mask how real and open all the other things he's said were.
Bucky's fiddling with your necklace by the end of his speech, and you're trying your best to finish picking up the pieces of a heart that broke for him because this... it needs to fall again.
How could people just skim past someone else's obvious body language that way?
Well—thinking back on how all of this started, it had all came from the fact that most men before Bucky had never paid attention to yours, to begin with.
Not until this 'dirty old man' came and showed you what could truly be.
You close the distance between your lips in a soft kiss. "I'm glad I can make you feel that way, Buck," you whisper. "I know we joke about your old age and whatnot, but honestly—you're one of the most handsome men I've met. You've got years of being a menace to my heart and health ahead of you yet."
Missing his 40th birthday had been the only truly sad day of this vacation for you. You knew from Steve Bucky had an amazing time with his younger sisters — Becca hadn't gone because of an important work thing, it turns out — and you were happy for them.
But you also knew Bucky and how much the date must've made a mess in his thoughts about a lot of things.
"You see me being a menace to your heart and health for a long time?" He asks.
He makes himself comfortable against the tree, adjusting the pillow on his lower back and pulling you close with him. "Sure. Do you?"
Bucky smiles up at you. "For as long as you'll have me."
It goes to your head. Of course it does—Bucky's offering himself to you on a silver platter, and saying it's yours to have and hold.
"One more kiss, please?" You ask nicely.
Bucky chuckles at you, pulling you by the nape. "Have as many as you want," he whispers before closing his lips on yours on short, sweet pecs. "Just... control these damn Succubus hips of yours, please?" He pleas, sucking on your bottom lip. "It's hard already having you sitting on me—if you—ah, don't do that, Y/n—if you give me blue balls in here I swear I'll make you cum at the cinema theater as a punishment or somethin'. I know I probably deserve them, but you smell so good, doll, it's torture already, c'mon."
The problem with Bucky's soft pleading is that it turns you on even more.
You have to physically stop your hips from circling his again, and he kisses you so sweetly that for a moment, you think of nodding along, saying 'yeah, Bucky, sure, baby'.
That plan goes downhill when his hands go down on you.
For someone trying to keep himself away from blue balls, Bucky is sure not doing his best at keeping his own excitement at bay.
When the sweet, languid kisses start heating up once more, it's him who starts pressing your waist down and guiding it with his big hands to rock back and forth against him. Bucky's hands are big, they hold firmly on your pelvis and when you see, he's moaning on your mouth because of the movements he's inflicting on himself.
But god, does it feel good.
He kisses you like he starved for it for a month, and he did.
When you think about the last time you had Bucky inside of you, so long ago, your resolves crack, and you're whining on his mouth.
That, he notices, and it snaps Bucky out of his drunken lust. He pulls back with a gasp, and if he was half-hard before, there's no doubt he finished getting himself worked up now.
You know intimately and closely the weight and the girth of that fully hard cock, and you whine again, rocking your hips against it. Bucky's hips buck up to meet yours, and he groans against your neck. "Okay that might've been on me this time," he gasps, licking and kissing on your neck. "Doll," he rasps out, and woah, he even sounds drunk. "You're gonna have to be stronger than me. I can't get my hands off you right now," he moans, leaving his trail of kisses on your bear-burned throat.
Unlike you, he finds amusement in this frustration, because he chuckles. "Y/n, we're both just gonna get more worked up and even more frustrated, baby." He takes a deep breath and tries inching his waist back a little. "I didn't bring anything with me," he whispers to you, smiling through what are supposed to be comforting kisses. "Plus—I got a date to take you in first, don't I?"
The logic is sound.
"Fine." You pout. "You didn't bring anything—no rubbing on each other. Just—kiss me?"
Buck obliges, kissing you with fervor.
If the plan and the reasoning were good, you two only missed one factor in this equation—the kissing, which you are both very good at, is effective with or without you two letting the lust and the heat take over your heads.
You and Bucky kiss to taste the missing days on each other's tongue, to find in his soft sighs the words you missed from poems he read away from you, to nibble on the lonely days at his house and the moments you could've had together at his birthday.
Under minutes, your foreheads are glistening with sweat and your hands have found home under each other's sleeping shirts.
Bucky's burning under you, and he's so hot and ready that his body starts doing something that breaks every last bit of resolve and rationalization you had stored in your brain.
For a second, you're embarrassed to feel how wet your panties are. It's ludicrous to be ashamed of it—Bucky loves how wet you get, but under the given circumstances you think it's wise to have him at least lying on top of you instead of under before you start rutting against his clothed dick like one does to the corner of a couch.
It's with a slip of the hand that you notice you're not alone.
Adjusting yourself, you move back a little and start saying, "D'you wanna get on..." but when your hand misses his thigh — a genuine mistake in the dark — and finds his crotch instead, your words die on your tongue.
Bucky's wet too. "Oh, fuck," you mutter, pressing your hand harder on the patch now. "Bucky."
"Y/n," he groans.
He's dripping pre-come in his boxers, and the wet spot on his shorts says as much as your panties do at this moment.
You don't care whether he's brought a condom or not anymore. "Bucky... d'you... have you been with anyone?" You ask him in a shaky whisper. Under you, Bucky stops groaning. And moving. "I swear I ain't asking to be a dick—I'm asking, well—I'm asking 'cause I trust you enough to know you're one of the good guys and you don't lie about this shit like some do just for pussy. And right now—I need to know. Not if you've been with others—that's not—I care if you're clean, 'cause I am, and I'm on the pill, and if you tell me you are too, just this once we could..."
Bucky grips you by the jaw, stopping your rambles, making you look at him. "You really think I could touch anyone else when I've had you?" He asks, seriously.
You close your eyes, sighing in relief over a worry you had no right to have. "Buck..."
He kisses you eagerly, and you correspond in the same way, almost forgetting all about your question until he answers you. "I haven't, no," he says calmly—too calmly for a man undoing your insides like you're a wool sweater and he's unmaking you by the thread. "And I'm clean." He pulls you closer again, since you had slid lower on his lap. "Are you sure, though?"
You nod, eagerly. "So, so sure."
His groan is guttural. The grip on your waist and neck are primal, too—Bucky's having a hard time hiding from you just how much you and your body are affecting him, or perhaps he doesn't want to.
He never hid from you, but it's with him writhing and moaning against your skin, unabashed and so soft at the same time, that you notice—he never hid, but he downplayed.
The Bucky who'd laid with you for months had been a giver, and a taker, and a very good partner.
This Bucky is everything.
He's shameless—the way he looks up at you from under his eyelashes, so little of his eyes left blue and his cheeks pinker than the sky at twilight, it screams give it to me.
How could you not? If he's shameless, then so are you.
Bucky's wide open in his desire, rotating his hips to meet yours as he kisses you with the hunger to end a feast. When the heat starts becoming too much inside of you, the need to externalize it before you explode is what makes you take off his t-shirt, then yours, leaving his torso naked for the mosquitos (and you) to have a go at it, and your upper body in nothing but the black bralette your put on for bed.
It's his little whines of your name that while he takes himself from his boxers that make you want to scream—you're thankful for the loose booty shorts when you notice how practical it is for him to slip your panties to the side and move the head against your wet and waiting core.
Muffling the sounds that leave your mouths can only be done if you're kissing at that point.
Bucky slides inside of you with ease, burying all of him to the hilt in only a few thrusts.
His metal hand holds your panties away, and his right hand grips the other side of your waist, and when he moves, the filthy sounds of your bodies connecting and your breathy moans start becoming a symphony.
It would be a lie to say it felt the same as other times.
It's not. "Bucky," you grind down on his lap, feeling full to the brim with him seated inside of you. "Oh god. Missed feeling you. Missed being so full."
Bucky's face feels stapled to your neck—the deep, almost wounded sounds he's letting out would definitely be more than enough to wake everyone up, but they're buried with the stubble burns on the side of your neck. "You missed it, baby?" He asks, biting on your skin. He's picked that from you—Bucky was never a biter. "I missed ya too. Fuck—your pussy's so good—oh god, so tight, Y/n, like it was made me for, huh?"
If you were a stronger person, you'd swallow the scream that climbs up your throat, but Bucky's words, his strong arms, and the way he moves his hips like they're made for sinning—it's too much.
Feels too good. Drives your mind up the walls on every corner; it reminds you that he's in you, and how there's nothing between him and you—and oh fuck, fuck. "Bucky. Buck—are you gonna cum in me?" Your hands fly to get a grip on his hair before your back gives up and you fall backward, nothing but a puddle of pleasure in his hands.
His hips falter and become still inside of you, making you whine loud. "Y/n." On one hand, it's only your name—on the other, his dick twitches inside of you, pulling a broken moan out of your lips. Bucky moves back, just enough to get a look on your face, and he looks just as drunk and fucked out as you imagine you are. "Look at you." Bucky's right hand goes up to your face, getting the hair that's plastered on your face away from it, then leaves kisses all over it. You'd try moving your hip, but the iron-grip of metal hand makes it impossible. "You tryna kill me, doll? Hm?" With that question, Bucky starts to piston his hips up in slow, deliberate moves. "You tryna gimme a heart attack?"
The movements are slow, but you feel when he secures his feet against the ground and then, the next thrust is sharper. Thankfully, Bucky puts his mouth on yours before you scream one more time.
"You tryna wake everybody up so they know who's making you feel so good, huh, pretty baby?" Bucky's words are slurred out together, and he highlights some words by just pushing in harder, then pulling out slowly. "You call me pretty then... then get cock drunk on top of like this—fuck, it ain't fair."
The second his hand goes from your waist to your neck, your hips gain free range to circle him and meet his thrusts; Bucky's pace hits all the right places inside of you and the patience he has to make sure he's angled just right every time is exactly why you know he's right.
Bucky's fucked you speechless before, he's fucked you into a blubbering mess, he's fucked you until all you could say was his name, but today, you're taking him with you.
Gripping your pussy tighter around his cock in his next thrust, you feel his broken moan against your lips. "I am," you breathe out, laughing breathlessly and mouthing on his jawline. "You feel how good you make me feel, Buck?" your voice is small, drunk, just as slurred as he is, but he hears it. Leading your lips to the shell of his ear, you grip him tighter on purpose again, going down a little faster. "You look so pretty under me—fuck, right there—so, so pretty, Sargeant. I wanna feel it. Can I?"
If he planned on pulling out before your whiny pleading, the resolve gets lost when you hold his face between your hands and kisses him filthily, just to match the sounds of your hips meeting each other.
"I'm—you sure? Fuck, are you sure?" Bucky moans brokenly.
All your agreement is muffled in the next kisses, but Bucky reads and understands the permission.
When he gets both arms around the middle of your waist again, you know what's coming—the strain of his muscles every time he takes your full weight to himself and starts thrusting up faster and harder gets you without fail, burning you up even hotter.
You hold on to his biceps, feeling him kiss on your cheeks and your damn forehead like he does in front of everybody—and that's what it does you in.
He kisses your forehead while fucking straight into your g spot, his grunts and moans all absorbed by your skin and trailing to the lake behind you two, and you're done, you're pulsating and cumming all around his cock, his name falling from your lips in a desperate prayer or a plea—you can't know, you don't care.
Bucky feels your pussy squeezing him and the only warning you get is the way he buries his face between your boobs and lets out a grunt before you feel him shooting inside of you.
Neither of you moves or says another word for what it feels like the longest minutes ever—this is going to become a problem.
You don't want him to pull out—hell, you never want him somewhere that's not inside of you, filling you up, ever again.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Bucky whines underneath you.
Oh. You said that out loud. "I'm... never." You laugh brightly. "Sorry."
"Do not apologize," he laughs back.
"It just... it feels good."
Bucky groans, and when he tries to pull out just a little, your whine stops him. He takes a deep breath and rests his head back against the tree trunk, and you get to appreciate his sweaty, fucked-out look.
The smile is your favorite part. "I don't see how this is a problem," he whispers to you, moving his hips a little again for another reaction—you both hiss at the sensitivity, but you hum pleased right after. "Nope. Nevermind. This is a problem—you know, I had a dream on New Year's day when you slept over that I woke up and I was already inside of you for some reason?" Bucky's voice is still deep and raspy, and you missed how he sounds after all those grunts and growls. "That's why I went on a run."
"That's a nice idea," you whisper.
"Are you trying to kill me?" He begs again, louder this time.
Laughing, you realize that Bucky is only starting to get an idea of how much you truly want to "kill him".
This should be fun.
"That sounds cutthroat."
The comment is offered so honestly that you can't help but tease a little. "Yeah." You sip on your Coke, then add in a tone as serious as you can muster. "Few places in this world are as cutthroat as a Ballet school."
Bucky stops with the straw halfway to his mouth and, sensing how much of an absolute little shit you're being, only shakes his head, amusement written all over his face. "I can imagine."
You smile behind your cup, biting on your lip. It's a little hard to concentrate on staying on topic when he looks so good. "Anyway. I think it's good for them to get a little competition going on." Natasha and Yelena were always good at bringing the best out on each other. "I can't wait for the casting paper picture. They send me a pic of the paper the professors pin on the board with all the names of who's dancing and as what—very pretty handwriting, dramatic old school style."
Bucky smiles at that. "My bet's on Yelena."
"What!? Why?" You lean in, curious.
"Nat's more experienced, but from what you've told me, she's also... distracted," he wiggles his eyebrows.
Oh. He had a point.
Wanda. "You really think so?"
"Sure. She's got other priorities right now," Bucky nods.
"Hmm, that is true." You're munching on your straw at the answer, thinking about the goodbyes at the airport, when the food arrives.
Given it was the last week of summer, everyone had (reluctantly) left Steve's small piece of heaven and headed back to where they came from.
Your girls, after their extended vacation, flew back to Russia with the biggest smile on their faces and a little bit of a tan to boot.
When you were saying goodbye, Natasha had whispered. "I like him, lyubov. He's still... pending. But I like him."
Behind her, Yelena rolled her eyes and made a small heart with her fingers—she knew her sister, probably knew exactly what she was saying, but getting the stamp of approval from both your girls meant the world.
In front of you, Bucky's thanks the waitress — a girl named Monica, who he introduced you to as soon as you arrived at Nakajima — and gives you a raise of his eyebrows at how delicious the food looks.
You prefer spending time observing how appetizing he looks.
The black trousers, brand new black shirt and plaid overcoat made his long hair and clean stubble give him almost a model look. That, or perhaps you were biased with how handsome he was.
Riding with him on his bike was maybe one of your favorite things now.
"How's the pretty rescue?" You ask, digging in the food.
"Pretty rescue," he chuckles under his breath. "I should've never shown you pics of him, 'till last week I was 'pretty boy' and now all I hear from ya is 'where's my pretty boy, let me see that ball of fur, Bucky' and no love for me."
Most people would think Bucky's doing all that theater just to get the laughter out of you — which he does, always — but you know him better; Bucky loves hiding his true adorable persona behind sarcastic jokes that have a little bit of truth.
That's why you squeeze him by his cute chin, call him pretty when he wakes up, and wolf-whistle when he passes by in all his shirtless glory.
The comfort and ease that he carries himself around you now could never go unnoticed by you.
(You, and others.
Is that Bucky SHIRTLESS behind you? Damn, Y/n, that's Buck language for serious businessssssss 😛 Steve had texted.)
Chuckling, you grab him by the chin. "Sorry, baby," you press a kiss on his pink, sake lips. "He's just too fucking cute. I'll call him—hm. That long silky fur reminds me of those prince lap kittens who always look super mean, but Alpine isn't mean, he's just prince."
"Alright, I'll take it." Bucky gives a small little bite on your chin, and you smile to yourself. Definitely picking up on your habits. He goes back to his food with a smile and answers, "He's fine. I thought he'd have left 'till I was back, but Luke said he gave no trouble and always ate the food he left for him. He even sent me a couple of pictures of them playing a couple of times when he came by and Alpine was sleeping on the couch or just around. Did I show you?" You nod, listening with a smile. "Right. He's just been getting all my clothes properly branded now—everything has his fur, Y/n, I swear to god."
Bucky feeds you the broccoli he isn't going to eat. "That's gonna be the default now," you tell him.
"I know." Bucky sighs. "I told myself 'he's not gonna sleep on the bed, you bought him a bed, Bucky' but—he is. Yeah." You laugh in sympathy, nodding along to Bucky's conformism. "You'll see when you go." He shakes his head. "He annoyed me all day, every day, for a week when summer started and when I gave him shelter during that first storm I said—just tonight. He's cryin' outside, you're not heartless, Bucky." He turns to you and pauses dramatically. "He was eatin' from my plate yesterday, Y/n. I have lost control of my own home."
That does it in—you burst out laughing, your upper body falling forward, leaning against him.
"Stop laughing at me! This is serious!" He says, laughing too.
Not laughing with him is almost an impossible task.
That's why you're not scared, says a voice in your head. Whenever the things you feel for Bucky grow and bloom inside of you, growing branches to new places and solidifying how much he means to you and in your life, the breeze of fear is nothing but a passenger cold in your stomach.
It goes away quickly. Bucky warms you up with laughter every time he speaks to you.
That's how you know he'll be in your life for as long as he wants to—even when things were bad, or difficult, Bucky managed to make you smile through the sad or the hurt.
He makes you happy.
"Does it taste good?" Bucky confirms at one point, when conversation dulled in favor of you both devouring the delicious dinner Yori prepared just for you two.
You nod with a mouth full, chipmunk cheeks ending up poked by one of Bucky's metal fingers.
"Cutie," he chuckles, pressing a tasty kiss on your cheek.
Dinner is almost as good as the date itself.
After picking you up on his special bike — a black, sleek and traditional Harley — and taking you for a ride around town, Bucky took you to a spoken poetry event he'd gotten the tickets for before you two had even "broken up".
He held your hand the entire evening, asking or whispering things to you about the books surrounding you and the people he saw.
People-watching with Bucky was much more fun than with most people; his observational skills were incredible and after the spoken-poetry session ended, you two roamed the fair in which it happened and left there with two bags of books, your mouths sweetened of cotton candy, cheeks pink and aching from smiling so hard.
Then, he had asked you, "Ready to eat?" And you knew where you two were going.
This time, Bucky had introduced you to Yori.
The Japanese man owned the restaurant, and it took you two minutes laughing at their sharp banter to see how much Yori meant to him.
Yori had told you about what inspired you to do a place where Asian cuisine is so mixed, and he'd given you a tour of both floors while talking animatedly about how much he loves regulars who dress so nicely as you.
He also ignored Bucky's attempt to be part of the conversation, because, according to him, "Don't mind him, Y/n, he wants my attention 'cause he's used to it. Lemme talk to the girl, James. Go get us some more sake."
It was nice to see someone else with the upper hand around Bucky who wasn't Steve.
You two finish a whole bottle of sake before dinner is over — mostly you, considering he's driving — and by the time your stomachs are full and conversation has finished making a hundred different stops, your bodies are leaning against the glass window behind you, your hands intertwined under the table.
Bucky smiles when he feels you leaning your cheek on his hand. He pinches it softly, then kisses it. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom and drink some water." He kisses your eyelids, which are feeling heavier already. "I'll get the bill before I come back. I'll bring you a bottle, kay?"
That's Bucky language for 'you're tipsy and I'm gonna hydrate you', and you appreciate it. Silently tilting your chin up, Bucky gives you the kiss your gesture asks for. "Meet me outside? I'm gonna smoke."
He snickers, giving you a cheeky smile. "Tsk tsk, bad habit, miss."
"I'll quit it when you do."
"I know. I'll make us quit, you see," he laughs.
It's something you two have been teasing each other about, ever since Bucky heard you yelling at Natasha over the phone to wait until you've found your lighter, and she replied with "agh! that nasty fucking habit" and received a "which I got from WHO?" that silenced her really quick.
He claimed he was gonna help you get rid of this nasty habit before you were a hypocrite in a white coat and he had no lungs to eat you out for hours or have you sit on his face.
"Loving the priorities, Buck."
Clutching your jacket closer around your body, you laugh at the memory.
If Bucky and Natasha's competitive streak ends in you becoming healthier, then so be it.
"Ah! You're here." Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice and finds Yori getting down the steps from the side door, joining you in the alley outside. "I have Monica stalling James at the cashier with a pep talk of her little girl, that should buy me some time," he says, making you laugh.
"Are you here to gimme more dirty secrets on him? 'Cause I'm all ears," you joke, angling your body so it faces the wind direction and none of the smoke hits Yori's face.
He notices it, and eyes your cigarette with the same distaste your mother does. "I'm not, actually."
The seriousness in his tone makes you hesitate a little, sobering up, too. "Is something wrong?"
Yori waves his hands in front of him in a dismissive way. "No, no. Nothing's wrong." He points at the smoke on your hand. "Except for that. I heard James saying you two are going to quit." Yori pins you with a look. "Next time you two come over, I better not see smoke breaks," he waits for you to nod in agreement before continuing. "Good. I've been trying to get him to quit for years, but if it takes a pretty girl and being in love for him to do it, at least it gets done."
"We'll quit it, Mr. Nakajima."
He looks away with a shake of his head. "Ah! I told you before—Yori." To your surprise, Yori puts out his hand in a request for the cigarette and you hand it to him, trying to contain your smile. "It's a nasty habit." He takes a slow drag and says through the exhaled smoke. "Feels good, though."
"That it does," you chuckle.
Yori looks at you calculative, taking another drag. "I came to thank you," he passes it back to you.
"You know what." Yori points to the inside of the restaurant, where if you follow his finger, Bucky can be found smiling at a picture that's being shown to him on the girl you recognize as Monica's phone. "He hasn't smiled like that in years." When you look back at Yori, the man has a smile on his face you haven't seen before. "My son used to make him smile like that all the time, so I think there's definitely a type there to where his taste lies, but—" he looks away from Bucky to you, his smile growing. "Kim could never get through his thick skull. You do. And he's finally opening up to being happy again..." Yori's hands join together and, like a flower, open in a blooming gesture. "Under your light."
The words get caught on your throat, and you put out the cigarette even though it was only half-finished.
"Kim was your kid?" You ask, feeling suddenly very hot under the streetlight. My son used to make him smile like that all the time.
The picture in Steve's corridor flashes behind your eyes; the bright smile of a younger Bucky, unmistakably happy and delighted.
Fuck. My sweet Bucky.
"Yeah," Yori confirms. "I adopted him when he was just a kid." His smile has sad and sharp edges. "I had a kid before him, but he... life can be tragic, sometimes." Yori catches your hand between his, and his smile eases. "But not always." Shaking your head and stealing a glance to the inside, he whispers. "You two make the loveliest couple. I can see in his face how much he cares about you. Which is hard. Men like James can hide a lot from their face, but he can't hide it with you—oh, no," he shakes his head, chuckling amused. "I'm happy."
So were you. "So am I, Yori." You squeeze his hand back. "I'm happy too."
Being Bucky's girlfriend is, just as you expected, even better than being his friend.
He's a great partner, he discovers. You knew that already—he had taken care of you in more ways than one when first approaching you.
The soft-spoken compliments might not have been there, or the subtle touches he seems to love so much when he's in public with you now, but the laser-focus attention and the sweet way of caring have always been.
Being Bucky's means grease stains on your cheeks too because he's incapable of seeing you at his shop and not kissing you. It means late-night dinner at Nakajima's, the place with the best food in this area of Brooklyn.
There's also the mindblowing sex, but that was your entry card.
With the days passing, you discover more of him can blow your mind.
His ability to compromise is incredible.
Bucky's patient with your schedule—when summer ends and the rush of school starts once again, your first fear is that your studying and how busy you are will mess up the good flow you two have going on.
What happens is: Bucky brings back the habit of texting between you two and when he catches you biting your lip raw in worry, he hugs you for a long time and kisses your worries away with a simple "I met a busy woman, I asked a busy woman to be mine—I'll deal with the consequences, kay?". Just like that.
His openness about his past takes a little of your breath away.
Through text messages or in person, Bucky starts offering to you cuts and pieces of life before you met him.
You learn more about his family — he and the girls are getting much closer and Bucky mentions a couple of times about the possibility of you meeting them — and in return, he listens to your tragic tales about yours, told through sarcastic jokes and glasses of brandy.
He never shies away from your touch or hides in the shadows anymore. Yori's analogy of a flower gets imprinted on your head and, in only a few days, that's all you can see in his selfies or cute little snaps.
Bucky looks amazing. Happy, and less broody.
He looks seen.
And from how he talks, he feels that way too. "Hey—can I pick you up at your University?" He asks on a Friday over the phone.
"Hello to you too, Sarge."
"Hi, pretty." He chuckles. "Can I pick you up? Morita just sent me a page about somethin' on the other side of town you're gonna like and I wanna take you. I even changed clothes—I won't look like a hobo coming to kidnap you, I promise."
The joke makes you laugh, but it also raises the need to do something in your brain.
As soon as Bucky arrives at the parking lot of your university and parks his bike, you throw Sarah a cheeky wink and go to walk in his direction.
Bucky hugs you close and kisses you hello, and then you put your plan to action. "Sargeant."
"Hm?" He asks, taking your backpack from you.
You circle your arms around his neck, bringing his attention fully to you. Sweet like honey and low enough for only his ear, you ask. "You see all these people... looking at you over my back. Drooling a little. Eyeing you up and down?" Bucky's eyes go over your shoulder, looking around in the parking lot, and you get to witness his eyes widening a little, his cheeks tainting. "Yup. All of 'em." You kiss his jawline. "They'd all love for you to show up here dirty with grease and make their wildest dreams come true just by... getting a look at you." You cup his surprised face in your hands. "You forget sometimes, don't ya?" With a kiss to his smiling lips, you add. "Pretty boy." Another kiss, and Bucky's smiling too. "They all wish they were me right now, Sarge."
That makes him laugh loudly, and the way he eyes you up and down, eating with you a glance; your skin burns hotter from it. "Oh, baby. They wish," he states boldly, kissing you again.
Bucky's spontaneous rides around town are the best surprise of them all, though.
He takes you to see a poetry reading, a book opening for a poet you've never heard of before and in return, you take him to the car exposition you always went to when you were younger with your dad, but stopped frequenting once he left.
You take Bucky to Flora and Rosa's back-to-school play because if there's one person who deserves to see your special little bundles of joy dressed as aliens, it's him.
Bucky officially asked him to be 'his girl' on the night of your first date, and only a month after that, you notice that you were his girl since he first leaned down on Bullet's window and asked about your car's name.
His eyes hooked you in, and his voice sunk you down below, but it was his personality that froze the lake and kept you under until now.
Bucky stops reading to you when he notices you aren't paying attention.
"Have I lost you?" He asks with a smile.
He's lying on your bed with What We Buried in his hands, reading the poems out loud to you, who has your legs thrown over his lap and your back nestled against the headboard of the bed.
The thermal bag over your stomach eases the cramps you're feeling, but Bucky's the real medicine here. "A little bit, but in a good way," you answer.
Your voice's groggy from the pain meds, and Bucky leans down to kiss your exposed thigh, and you feel his warm breath on your sensitive skin. "Do I keep reading?" He asks.
"Just don't fall asleep like that, baby. You'll crane your neck."
"Yori said he'll bring dinner for us later 'cause none of us are gonna cook tonight, okay?"
"He just wants an excuse to see Alpine," you giggle.
"Alpine and you." Bucky huffs, and opens the book again. "I said he could 'cause I can't say no to his food, but don't abandon me when he gets here. You two always lose me on your Chinese literature rants." He throws you what's supposed to be a menacing look. "No man left behind, doll."
"Yes, Sargeant," you smile.
"Good girl." He kisses your leg again, and clears his throat. "Now—where was I?"
He looks away from the book with a patient smile. "Hm?"
"I love you, pretty."
He smiles with the same happiness from the first time he heard it, and leans in his whole upper body to place the next kiss on your waiting lips. "I love you more, baby." He pulls back smiling. "Now hush. I'm reading the pain away from my girl—where was I?"
"In This Story, you have claws..."
He nods happily. "In this story, you have claws. In this story, happily ever after has bite marks in it. In this story, you are free and terrifying. In this story, you get away. In this story, you bleed. In this story, you survive."
We do, you think.
In this story, you bleed, and the love leaves bite marks, and even though you're terrifying, both of you are free—he, a survivor, you, a fighter.
You two get away, and most importantly, get together.
In this story, Bucky smiles to you under the sun and the Moonlight, and he's just as perfect as he was when you met him, perhaps only a bit brighter.
Bloomed. Like you.
Like your love.
— THE END —
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To everyone who has read, reblogged, commented, and loved this story: thank you from the bottom of my heart. I had the utmost fun time creating this, and I plan on writing several drabbles and blurbs in this little universe. They'll be added to the master list, and they'll be from the past, present, and future of these characters. I hope you've enjoyed your reading. <3
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Before It All
Pairing: College athlete!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes didn’t do girlfriends. Well, not until you. Too bad you wanted nothing to do with him.
Word count: 3.8k
Warnings: Big time pining!Bucky
a/n: This is the fourth one-shot/drabble for my series ‘For the Love of the Game’! It’s set before the main series :)
I discontinued my taglist, but you can follow my library blog @pellucid-library for notifications 🤍
Series Materlist // Main Masterlist
Bucky Barnes didn’t do girlfriends.
He didn’t do the dinner dates or the anniversaries or the texting. The thought of getting in a fight and having to beg for forgiveness made him want to pull his hair out. And he certainly didn’t do exclusivity; being with one girl for the rest of his life seemed like such a waste.
And lucky for him, Bucky Barnes didn’t have to do girlfriends—not with his status.
He could walk into any party and become the life of it, eyes tracking over each girl that sent him a suggestive glance. If he felt like it, he would talk them up first; act like he was really interested in what they were saying, and maybe even brush some of their hair behind their ear. Girls loved that.
But more often than not, he would skip that step. A quick whisper in their ear was more than enough to have them dragging Bucky to their dorm. Or to their car. Sometimes just down the hall of whatever frat house they were in. Anywhere was fine with Bucky; it’s not like it had to be romantic.
There were, of course, a few flings that wanted more with him. They would linger as he pulled his clothes on, desperate to race out of their dorm before they could ask him to stay. He would get a text sometime later; something about coffee or lunch that he would have to ignore. If he saw them again it was awkward, but Bucky found that more manageable than having to deal with an entire relationship.
Because Bucky Barnes didn’t do girlfriends.
Well, not until you anyway.
He noticed the little things at first. Like the way your laugh made his chest feel weird and the way he found himself wanting to hear you talk for ages. You were never talking to him—and your laugh certainly wasn’t meant for his ears—but just being around the sound was enough.
He brushed it off as a coincidence. Sure, everything that came out of your mouth had him on the edge of his seat, but that was just because he was sick of the guys. And maybe the way you laughed caused his breath to get lost in his throat, but the air quality in the sports bar had never been the best anyway.
But then it was bigger things—things he couldn’t ignore.
Because how could he ignore that even when you wanted nothing to do with him—even when you wouldn’t speak to him and barely met his eyes—all he wanted was one small, fleeting chance.
You drew him in. You smiled up at something Thor said and he was kicking himself, wishing he had said it. You yanked Sam’s jacket from his hands, complaining that he had torn it again and you would now have to fix it, and Bucky was about to rip his own in half. Not that you would mend it for him; you’d never offered before.
You cared so much. Too much in Bucky’s opinion, but maybe that was just because you held an ice pack to Pietro’s eye after a rough practice and not to his. You brought those little snacks in your bag that the team got in emergencies, and you gave the best birthday presents. But not to him. Sure, you got him a card every year, but they were so impersonal. He still found himself wishing he had saved them. You picked them out yourself.
And why did Parker get help with his homework? Bucky needed help with his homework too. And Bucky was pretty sure the kid didn’t even appreciate how close he got to sit by you; how he could probably smell your perfume and how you even brushed your hand against his shoulder when he got frustrated.
Obviously, Bucky knew these things because he was in the library at the same time by accident. He hadn’t overheard Parker asking for help. That would be weird.
The worst moments were the ones that gave him a glimpse. When something would slip behind your indifferent mask and you would grant Bucky with his own smile. He would say something that caught you off guard and your laugh actually would be meant for him. And it always made him ache because you reeled yourself in just as quickly; you would blink and remember yourself and suddenly he felt cold again.
It was even more painful when he got to touch you.
Those moments were rare, much more rare than your occasional laugh, but he found himself holding onto each one.
When he got nervous on the mound during games, he would remember the way your thigh brushed his in the crowded lecture hall. You were late that day, forced to take the empty seat Bucky had saved with his bag. You let out a small huff before plopping down next to him, rummaging through your backpack in a flurry.
“Need a pencil, doll?”
“Uh,” you started. His fingers twitched when you spoke. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
His disappointment only lasted for a moment; the guy next to you was taking up too much space, and had forced you to press your thigh to Bucky’s after you settled. You seemed uninterested in the contact. Bucky tried to mimic your expression, but excitement was buzzing through his veins.
You wouldn’t even remember the occurrence.
Sometime before the summer—right after Bucky discovered you were probably the love of his life—you touched him on purpose. You touched him twice, actually, but the first time was much less pleasant than the second. He was appreciative of both.
“Oh my god,” you exhaled. You dropped to his side. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
Bucky hardly felt the throbbing in his nose; he was too focused on your palm pressed to his cheek.
“I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear. I didn’t even know you were standing there.”
The team was all laughing around him, slowly filing out of the gate that led to the stadium. He didn’t really mind. They could laugh all they wanted if it meant you would keep touching him.
“James?” you asked, pulling him to attention. “I didn’t give you a concussion or anything, right?”
Obviously not; you hadn’t hit him that hard. The only reason he was on the ground was because you knocked him into the curb. Maybe if he had been paying attention and not trying to catch your conversation with Tony, he would have stopped your hand before it connected with his face.
He gave himself another second before answering—one more second to take in your concerned face that was just inches from his. “Nah, doll, I’m fine.”
You blew out a relieved breath, and he relished in the feel of it against his neck. And just like that, you weren’t touching him anymore. His face burned where your impression lingered, and he felt the softness of your touch more than the smack to his nose.
“You gonna live?” Steve asked. He loomed over Bucky, offering a hand when you left to continue your conversation elsewhere. “Or do you wanna tell her you’re in love with her now?”
But what really did him in—what kept him up at night and made his skin realize its lack of your touch—happened right before junior year. When you got caught under the damn rubber on the mound.
Of all people, Steve had dropped his keys on the field. They fell out of his bag on the way out of the dugout, leaving a very tired group of players leaning against his car, waiting to be driven to campus.
But you were lagging behind that day, and in the perfect position to run back and grab them. The field wasn't very far from the car, so when you were gone for ten minutes, Bucky volunteered to check on you. Steve threw him a knowing look that he didn’t catch, too intent on getting to you.
When he saw you sitting in the dirt with your leg twisted at a weird angle, he ran faster.
“Fuck, are you okay?”
You groaned. “I’m fine. I slipped and my sandal got caught. Why is there so much space between the dirt and the rubber thing?”
He crouched beside you and assessed the damage. Your shoe was pressing your foot into the mound and the dirt covering your leg made it very hard to see. He hesitantly reached out and brushed it away. When you didn’t protest, he started to pull.
“Ah—” He stopped as soon as you opened your mouth. “Okay, that hurt.”
“They haven’t filled the dirt since the season hasn’t started,” Bucky explained. He rubbed your calf, attempting an apology. “Looks like I can’t just pull your leg out, doll. I gotta lift you up first.”
“Like—my whole body?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I can get Steve to come help if you want.” The offer made him cringe.
“No, no, it’s okay just—let’s just get this over with.”
He shuffled behind you and reached down to grab your waist. There was a pause—so infinitesimal you couldn’t even tell—before his fingers pressed into your skin. His chest connected with your back before he moved up, and his breath felt lodged in his throat.
He was holding you—not at all romantic, but you were pressed against him and he wasn’t sure if he had the mind to speak anymore. He leaned more of your body on him as he stood, pulling you gently.
“Is it hurting at all?” he breathed against your ear.
You shivered, gripping his forearms around your waist. “No.”
When your foot popped out, you didn’t leave his arms immediately. You kept your body pressed to his as you rolled your ankle a few times, even letting your head fall back against his chest for a moment. He watched with bated breath; if he said anything, you might move, and he certainly didn’t want that.
“Well,” you giggled. “I’m sure you can’t say you’ve ever done that.”
And he was a goner. Because not only were you still wrapped up in him, but you were laughing, and he could feel it in his chest. Physically.
He let another beat pass before he answered, memorizing your hands against his arms. “No, can’t say I have.”
Maybe it was the way his breath tickled at your ear, or maybe his fingers twitched too much on your waist, but you tore away from him after that. You reached down for your shoe and you spun around on your heel and your face was back to the way it always was around him—indifferent and blank.
“Well, thank you.”
Yeah, this was much worse than when you smiled at him.
After that—after the way your body molded into his and your laugh echoed in his chest—Bucky decided it was time he tried harder. He’d been admiring you from afar for too long, worried that if he showed interest, you would become even more distant from him; that if he started treating you like a friend, you would leave him with nothing.
It was obvious you didn’t like him, although he couldn’t figure out why. Steve wouldn’t tell him, and Natasha was even worse. No matter how many times he begged and pleaded for them to spill the information, they told him it wasn’t their story to tell.
So Bucky just figured it was because of his reputation.
Well, that wouldn’t be an issue anymore—not after he got to feel you against him and suddenly every girl that lingered by his ear made him cringe. They all laughed too loud and their hands were too rough and their perfume was too strong. And they didn’t make him feel like you did. He could have a girl in bed, lying beneath him and ready, and all he could think about was you.
So he stopped going to parties. He stopped seeking out a new girl every weekend, and he figured that was a good start. He’d show you he was different now and you’d surely give him the time of day.
Except you didn’t. Not even a little.
In fact, the only time Bucky got a reaction out of you was when he brought other girls around. And he so loved the way your eyes looked when they met his. So, he brought other girls around.
He didn’t want to. He hated the way they felt against him and how their breath met his skin. They were pushy and Bucky couldn’t believe he used to seek this out; how he could’ve been satisfied with their advances every night when just a single glance from you was a million times more pleasing.
Sam told him he was being an idiot; he said no girl would ever become more attracted to a jerk if they were constantly hanging off of another girl. But Sam didn’t understand that the tiny huff you let out when a random sorority girl sat on his lap, was on replay in his brain all weekend. He didn’t get it because while you granted him your words and gentle tone, all Bucky could hold onto was your annoyance.
And after months and months of nothing changing, he’d had enough. It was time to make some real changes.
“I’m not askin’ you to force her on me, Nat. Just a little push maybe?”
“Bucky, give it a rest, would you? She’s not going to sleep with you.”
“I don’t want her to sleep with me! Well, I do, but not—” Natasha glanced up at Bucky with a sharp brow. “Okay, that came out wrong. What I meant is that I just want to get to know her.”
“And why the sudden interest?” she drawled.
Bucky didn’t really know how to answer that. He could barely answer that for himself. There wasn’t one exact moment that peaked his interest; he just knew that overtime, everything you did made him want to get closer to you.
“She’s really pretty.”
Natasha scoffed. “She’s always been pretty.”
“Right, of course,” Bucky rushed. “She’s just been around me more and I’ve noticed.”
“She’s been ‘around you’ for years.”
This wasn’t going well. He knew Natasha was protective of her best friend, but this conversation was nearing a dead-end. He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride—just for a moment.
“Nat, you know me. You know I haven’t been interested in a single girl since I got to this school. If I was looking for a quick lay I could find one. But I’m not. I’ve been asking you about y/n for weeks now.”
Natasha finally pulled her attention away from her laptop and narrowed her eyes at the pitcher. He’d had this entire conversation with the top of her head up until now; she hadn’t humored a single thing he’s said. But now it felt like she was seeing through him. He shifted under her scrutinizing gaze.
“I just want to talk to her,” he reasoned. “Promise.”
She pressed a manicured nail to the top of her computer, snapping it shut with finality. “She’s meeting me here in fifteen minutes. You can...stay. It’ll be like a trial period. For me, not for her. She’s still not going to want to talk to you.”
And it wasn’t much, but it gave him hope. Bucky slid down the chair and got comfortable, his hoodie riding up his neck and blocking out the air of the library. A trial period. A way to show Natasha that he didn’t just want to get in her best friend’s pants. He had no idea how he was going to do that when you never spoke to him, but he’d give it his best shot.
He had resorted to fiddling with his phone as Natasha went back to her work, but when the delicate trill of your voice greeted the librarian, he shot up in his seat. A little too quickly, it seemed, because he knocked his knee on the table and received a sharp glare.
“Hey, Nat! I brought you a coffee but they were out of—” Your voice trailed off, eyes darting between Bucky and Natasha. “Uh, I didn’t know anyone would be joining us.”
Bucky sent you a shy smile and looked across the table for an explanation. Natasha rolled her eyes. “Bucky’s going to be sitting with us. Just for a little while.”
You looked extremely uncomfortable, weight shifting between your feet and coffees held out in front of you. “Oh, well I um—I would have gotten you something from the cafe if I’d known.”
Of course you would. You practically hated the guy, but of course you would try and get him a coffee when he crashed your study date with your best friend. Just another reason for Bucky to be falling for you.
“No problem, doll. Not like you coulda known,” he flirted.
“I wish you would stop calling me that.” You took the seat next to him begrudgingly and started to grab books from your bag. “I do have a name, you know.”
Natasha threw him a pointed glance, causing him to remove the arm he was about to place around your chair. Bucky wasn’t used to being watched when he was trying to make a move, and he certainly wasn’t used to being evaluated.
“‘Course you have a name, doll. I just think mine fits you better.”
You furrowed your brows at him before diving into your books. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the best place to try and talk to you; you looked really busy and Bucky hadn’t brought any work with him. But according to Natasha, this was his time to prove himself.
“So, uh,” he started, nodding to your homework. “What class is that for?”
“Nothing you’re in, don’t worry.”
“Right. So you don’t like it?”
You turned back to him, confused. “No, I like this class. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Favorites? What is it then?” Bucky smiled, resting his chin in his palm.
“You want to know about my favorite class?” you deadpanned.
“Yeah. Lay it on me.”
God, he’d never seen you look more guarded. You looked almost afraid to tell him; it was as if you feared he would make fun of you. He’d never do that. He wouldn’t dream of making you second guess yourself, or worse, making you upset.
You pulled your book a little closer to your chest and let your gaze track to Natasha. You were having a conversation that he had no way of deciphering, eyes locked on each other and expressions changing. Bucky was left sitting there, glancing between the two girls, praying Natasha was on his side.
With one last confused look, you turned back to Bucky. “It’s art history.”
“That sounds fun. I’ve never taken it myself, but maybe I should. Hey, you’re pre-med though, right? You just takin’ it as an elective?” He couldn’t stop speaking; something in his brain needed to fill the awkward silence between you.
“It’s just an elective. I like that we have to go to the museums sometimes—like The Met.”
He shoved that information into the back of his mind; maybe you’d let him take you sometime. “Wow, The Met. I haven’t been since I was a kid. My Ma used to drag me and my sister there every summer.”
“Why’d you stop going?”
There it was—just a little bit of interest had sparked in your eyes. He could use that; he could latch onto your niche interest and drag it out. Maybe you’d ask him about his favorite class next. Then he could ask you if you needed someone to walk you home. This was a perfect in.
“Got really busy with baseball. Then I started here and got busy with… well everything.” He was kicking himself. Why would he say that when you obviously knew what ‘everything’ was. He tried to change the subject. “I, uh—I didn’t know you liked art.”
If his previous comment hadn’t done him in, this one sure did. That tiny glimmer in your eye dimmed and the mask you wore covered your features. “There are lots of things you don’t know about me. Everyone else knows I like art.”
“Well, I’d like to know—more about you, I mean. Now I know you like art. What else do you like?”
He shouldn’t have said that, but the words shot from his mouth before he could stop them. He wanted you to like him so badly, and your aversion to his charm was throwing him off. Yes, Bucky should know you like art—he’d been around you for years now—but he didn’t, and he wanted to change that.
He opened his mouth to elaborate, but you beat him to it. “You know what? I—I just remembered I have office hours right now. For uh, my math class. Sorry, Nat, raincheck?”
How were you packing up so quickly? You haphazardly shoved your books and laptop back into your bag as Bucky scrambled for something to say.
“Wait. Do you need me to walk you? I have somewhere to be too. I could—”
“Don’t worry about it,’’ you shot out. “See you tonight, Nat.”
And with that, you were gone.
Bucky blew it. He completely blew it and there was no way Natasha was going to help him now. At least he got to have a tiny, fleeting conversation with you before his heart was torn in half.
“Alright, Barnes, I’ll help you out.”
His head shot up fast enough to give him whiplash. “What? But—she just ran out. Literally ran away from me. Why would you help me?”
“I know y/n. And I know other… things. About you and about her. You looked like a lovesick puppy the second she walked into the room. That’s a new look for you Bucky—a good look, but a new one.”
Bucky was seconds away from asking her a million questions about you, when Natasha pointed an angry finger at him. “But if this is some kind of game—if you hurt her—you’re gonna regret ever asking me for anything.”
“It’s not. I swear, Nat, I don’t wanna hurt her.”
“I know you don't,” she agreed. “But you still might.”
And Bucky would have to grapple with that for years to come—even in the years that you allowed him to hold you in his arms. The idea of who he was, and the history he had created for himself, was something that could hurt you on its own. It already had, apparently.
“Well, what do you want to know about her?”
He wanted to know everything.
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For Everyone To See
Pairing; CEO+Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary; Bucky takes you to the new Nightclub, Pleasure Point, that has opened in town. Only it’s not just a regular nightclub…
Word Count; 3270
Warnings; NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, undefined age-gap, Daddy!Kink, “cheating”, cursing, language, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, teasing, mention of drugs and alcohol, voyeurism, exhibitionism, choking, grinding, slapping, begging, fingering, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, hair pulling, mention of bodily fluids.
Authors Note; Firstly I want to say that the picture below does not represent how the reader looks like and secondly… Jesus fucking Christ I need a bath in holy water after writing this. Enjoy and I would love to know what people think about this piece of writing :)
CEO+DBF Bucky Barnes Masterlist || Kinktober
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Get dressed up in the sexiest little dress you own, baby; I’m taking you out tonight. I’m picking you up in one hour.
That was the text you had gotten from Bucky on a Saturday night. He wanted to go out? In public? Was he crazy? There was no way in hell this wouldn’t turn into the biggest scandal of the year; you could already picture it. Your dad’s life would most likely be ruined, along with the rest of your family and the people in Bucky’s life, if it came out to the public that his daughter was dating his best friend and next in command, who was much older than you and let’s not forget a married man. However, that marriage had been broken for years already.
But… at the same time, this was Bucky we were talking about. He always had some genius and secret plan, so you trusted that there was no way in hell you and he would be outed to the public eye. So you did as told; you got glammed up and dressed up in the tightest and shortest little dress you owned.
Right on time, precisely an hour after he sent the text, a car pulled up to the front of your house. Your parents were not in at the moment, so you had no worries about them noticing the black Rolls Royce pull up to the driveway.
The backdoor opened, and you climbed in. Bucky pulled you to his side immediately and kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in years; in reality, it had only been a few hours.
“God, I’ve missed you, baby.”
“Bucky,” you couldn’t help but giggle at how needy he was for you, “it’s only been a few hours since we saw each other.”
“Still,” his hands roamed your waist and hips as he tried to make up for the lost time of not touching you, “I missed you so much, doll.”
“Where to, Sir?”
It was his driver, Henry. He was one of the few people in your life that knew about the relationship. You had completely forgotten that he was sitting at the front, and you felt a little embarrassed that he had been witness to yours and Bucky's exchange.
Bucky explained where to drive, and then you were on your way. He kept you at his side the entire ride, his arm around your shoulder so that he could keep you close to his frame.
“Where are we going, Bucky? We can’t exactly go out in public together.”
He sensed the stress and nervousness laced in your voice as you expressed your concerns to him. His other hand came to rest at the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a comforting motion.
“Don’t worry, princess. I know the perfect place to go.”
After 10 minutes, the car pulled up to a nightclub, but it wasn’t just any regular nightclub. It was the new and trendy one that had opened up a few weeks ago. The bright red neon letters spelt out the club’s name, Pleasure Point. It had been known that it was almost impossible to get on the inside without having contacts with the club owner. It was either that or else you needed to book several days in advance if you ever wanted to step foot inside. Not even then were you guaranteed entrance to the club.
The line outside stretched out as far as your eyes could see. There was no way you and Bucky would ever wait in that line with the fear of someone recognising you.
“You know the owner?”
“Of course I do, baby.”
Of course, he did. He knew everyone in town and could get in everywhere or get a hold of anything with just one simple phone call.
“Let’s go. Keep your head low. I don’t want people to notice us.”
It was only a few meters from the car to the entrance, and it was dark enough outside that people most likely wouldn’t see and recognise the two of you. Still, the short distance was daunting, and you felt your heart race in fear of people seeing you.
Bucky kept his arm around your shoulder as he guided you towards the entrance. The bouncer nodded once and opened the door to let you inside.
“Don’t worry. He will never tell anybody,” he reassured you while his hand caressed your shoulder.
Once inside, you took a few moments to observe your surroundings as best you could with the darkness engulfing you. It was a large space, but at the same time, it felt intimate. Every few seconds, the room flickered a deep red, then a dark purple, before it went back to being almost pitch black. The only constant light source was from the neon signs on the walls, but even then, it was impossible to make out any faces, only silhouettes.
A dance floor dominated the middle of the room, heaps of people dancing, grinding, touching, kissing each other to the loud music being played from the speakers.
A bar was set up to the side. It was surprisingly empty; only a few people were waiting on their drinks while the rest of the occupants of the club were dancing on the dance floor.
And then you saw it. At the far back of the club, sofas and single armchairs were placed in the corners. Every time the colours flickered red and purple, you could see outlines of people occupying some seats. You saw one person straddling another, and on the opposite side of them, a person was on their knees between the legs of another.
So the rumours were true then. It wasn’t only a nightclub; it was some sort of sex club as well, hence the name Pleasure Point. A club where you could either come and dance the night away or find your way into the dark corners and let out your wildest fantasies.
It was a perfect combination of keeping your anonymity since it was almost pitch black, but at the same time, feel the thrill of people watching as you delved into each other in the most intimate way possible.
“Let’s get a drink first and then have some fun, kitten.”
His hand squeezed your ass hard, and his eyes flickered over to the back of the club. His tongue peeked out of his lips to wet them, his fantasies already starting to develop of what he was going to do to you once you found your way over there into the darkness.
So that’s why he wanted to bring you here. To publicly claim you while still keeping you anonymous, thanks to the darkness of the nightclub. So it was a win-win situation.
You made your way to the bar, farthest away from people seated at it, and ordered a few shots. Bucky noticed that you were nervous about the bartender but reassured you that they would keep their mouth shut about the two of you. The shots went down quickly, and Bucky pulled you towards the dance floor as soon as you finished, you hesitated for a moment.
“Relax, baby. It’s dark, and people are either too drunk or too high to notice us, trust me.”
“I trust you.”
He positioned the two of you in the middle of the crowd. Bucky was right. The people around paid you no mind. They were lost in their own world as they moved to the rhythm of the music.
Bucky turned you around so that your back was connected with his front. His large hand kept flat across your stomach to keep you tight to him. His other snaked up your dress to rest on the very top of your thigh. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as his breath fanned the side of your face.
“Dance for me, kitten.”
His rough and low whisper had tingles run down your spine, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. If it weren’t for his hands keeping you to him, you would have fainted right there on the floor.
The music pumping through the speakers and the alcohol you ingested had you grinding on him.
Your ass pushed against his groin as your head rested where his heart lay; your one hand found a grip at the back of his neck. His hand on your stomach travelled towards your clothed breasts as he palms, pinches and massages them in his grasp.
His lips, now brushing at the skin of your neck, is altering between hot open-mouth kisses, licks and little nips. You moan out loud, not caring if some may hear, at what he’s doing with his mouth and hands.
Once his hand is done giving attention to your breasts, it finds its place around your neck and squeezes enough to make your mind fog up.
“I want to play with you, babydoll. Come.”
Like that, his body and lips leave for a split second, and you puff out a breath of annoyance that he stopped. His hand finds your own and tugs you towards the back of the club with all the satin sofas and armchairs.
“Bucky… are you sure this is safe?”
“I know it is. No one will recognise us. Trust me, I promise.”
You nod once.
Bucky drops down on the two-seater sofa with you on his lap. He spreads his hand across your stomach to keep you tight to him, and with his thumb, he caresses the underside of your clothed breast. His other hand drops down to your bare thigh, stroking his warm hand up and down your exposed skin.
You shift in his lap, rubbing your thighs together, as you feel his clothed cock press hard against your ass. He keeps this act up for a few short minutes, warming you up to his touch. Slowly, he inches closer and closer across the sensitive skin of your thigh towards the place you ache for him the most.
He’s so fucking close. Bucky dips his hand father beneath your dress, and with his thumb, he brushes the very inside of your thigh, which has your breath hitches in your throat at him being so close to your most sensitive part. You want him to touch you; you need him to touch you, with every fibre of your being. A single finger draws over your wet and quivering pussy.
You gasp out, “more, please do more.”
You part your legs, enough to give him the space he needs to make you feel so fucking good, and the back of your head rests on his shoulder as he keeps up the gentle torture of his finger, going up, and down your clothed slit, your panties are soaked from his actions.
This is what you need. You don’t care if people might see; let them. The fact that people might be watching only fills you with desperation and lust so much more. But it also gives you a sense of comfort that they can't identify the two people getting it on in the corner. It feels too fucking amazing to say no to Bucky when he so willingly want to bury his fingers so deep inside your tightness.
“Such a dirty and needy girl you are. You want that pretty little pussy of yours on display for everyone, huh? You want them to see? Maybe give the ones watching a taste of this good pussy as well? Does it turn you on that maybe, just maybe, they recognise us?” His voice is as deep as it can go and so sinful as he whispers in your ear, his tongue peeking out to lick the shell of it.
You look around for a second and catch a glimpse of a few male figures watching you and Bucky in the dark corner. The flickering lights going on and off every few seconds in the dark nightclub gives them a glint of what is happening on the sofa you and Bucky are occupying.
You should feel embarrassed, ashamed to be claimed in the most intimate way possible for everyone to see. Still, something about them watching, stroking their clothed cocks, only makes you spread your legs even further on each side of Bucky's thighs so he can have full access to your body. The dress hides your most private parts from being viewed, but you can still clearly see the movement of Bucky's hand down there, leaving nothing to the imagination.
A stroke of his thumb on your clit has you twitching on his lap, and your hand reaches up to the back of his neck to keep a hold of him.
“Ple-please, daddy. I-I want your fingers.”
You feel a rumble deep within his chest vibrate against your back as you use that word for the first time, testing it out.
“Of course, babydoll. Daddy will give you his fingers, don’t you worry, little kitten.”
And with that, he pushes your panties to the side, slaps your pussy once as best he can with the position you find yourself in before he plunges two fingers deep into your tight and wet walls. He starts fucking you with them, in and out of your hole.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your lips part to let out your soft moans and whimpers.
“You want my fingers? I’ll always give what you want, baby. I bet you also want every man in here to finger, eat or fuck that pretty pussy of yours until you beg for mercy, and then, I’ll bend you over this sofa in front of everyone and fuck you senseless, so they know you belong to me and me only. Is that what you want, doll?”
As you were about to answer his question, which would have been a yes, he entered a third finger to stretch you out and fuck you with. The pad of his thumb circles your clit. You gasp out loud at the added stimulation he has given you. The loud music from the speakers drowns out your sounds; only Bucky can hear them with how intertwined you are sitting.
You feel your orgasm inching closer and closer with the delicious rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of your tightness that you don’t care that you are about to cum around him while a few strangers watch. It only edges you on even more.
You twist in his grasp at the pleasure, but the grip he has on your stomach with his arm keeps you at bay as he pushes you closer and closer towards the edge. His cock is still pressed hard against your behind, and once he’s done making you cum on his fingers, you will take place between his knees and take his hard length as deep as your throat allows, and make him fill your mouth with his cum, not caring that people are going to watch you do it.
“Let go for me, princess. Let me feel you all over my fingers. Let them see how I make you come all over me.”
Increasing the speed of his three fingers inside you and his thumb putting pressure on your clit is all that you need to let yourself go. Your orgasm arches your back, and you grip his hand underneath your dress to keep it there at all cost while you ride his fingers and soak up every bit of pleasure they are providing you.
After you have come down, Bucky slips his hand from underneath your dress. You wince out at the force his fingers abused your hole, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Bucky presses his fingers to your lips, and you happily allow him entrance. You suck his fingers, deep, one at a time, moaning out at your taste, as you keep intense eye contact with him.
The men watching the two of you have completely been forgotten as all your focus is on the man you are sitting on.
“You are such a good and obedient girl for daddy, aren’t you?”
You nod your head slowly as your hand reaches down between the two of you to palm him through his trousers.
“There is something else I want to suck on, daddy.”
“Is that so, princess? Well, don’t let me stop you.”
Stepping off him, you sink to your knees until you rest comfortably between his spread legs. Your palms stroke the fabric of his clothed thighs.
Your dress rises up, exposing your panties to the hungry eyes of the men watching the scenes you are displaying.
You don’t care at this point. All your focus is on Bucky and his hard cock as you release him from the confinement of his pants and take him into your hand. Your mouth waters at the sight of him.
You waste no time in taking him as far down your wet throat as you can. You suck Bucky's dick with everything you have.
He takes a stiff and tight grip on your hair so he can assist you with keeping a steady rhythm on his length. Your eyes water up, mascara running, as he brushes the back of your throat with every stroke.
“Holy fuck, babydoll. You take me so well. You’re making every man in here so jealous with that slutty little mouth of yours.”
Even more eyes were on you now as Bucky filled your mouth up to the hilt. You should feel embarrassed, but you loved the gazes, and attention the both of you are receiving.
Bucky's dick twitches in your mouth as he’s forcing your mouth on him even more to chase his orgasm.
“Shit, I’m gonna….”
He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before his hand tightens in your hair as he’s coming deep inside your warm throat, pumping his shaft in long and sinful strokes as you milk his cock for all its worth.
You keep sucking him through his pleasure as one of your hands reaches down towards yourself to tease your sensitive clit, building yourself up to another orgasm.
After taking and swallowing everything he had to give you, he pulls you off his dick, and you retract your hand from yourself.
His hand takes hold of your chin, and you open your mouth to show him all is gone. His thumb runs down your wet tongue, already missing the feel of it.
“That mouth of yours is magical, doll. Do you want to give the ones watching a taste? Would you allow them to use your mouth and pretty pussy as they pleased?”
Your core throbs as you think about the scenario. You can’t deny that you want that. You want that so bad. You want everyone in this club to use you to the fullest while Bucky watches, a proud smirk on his face, as they get lost in what your body has to give.
But… right now, you only want the man sitting in front of you. Right now, you only want him, your man, your lover, whatever other ways you can define your relationship, to take you home and bend you over every surface of the house as he fucks you into oblivion. This other fantasy that he suggested would have to wait for another time, you would have to remind him someday, but you do not doubt that he will ever forget it.
“Right now, babe. I only want you. I only want your mouth, your fingers, your cock, nothing else. Take me home, Bucky, please.”
Thank you for reading❤️ Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!
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a/n: so i seriously don't know how to feel about this, but hopefully y'all like it. this is also super late for yesterday's prompt. it's okay. enjoy!
prompt thirteen - dry humping
summary: kissing was all fun and games until you can't get enough.
word count: 878
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
warnings: explicit so MINORS GO AWAY, kissing, cussing, thigh riding, dry humping. let me know if i missed anything!
It was only innocent kissing on a second date. Nothing more, nothing less and you enjoyed that. Felt content with remaining on his lap, hands in his hair as he slowly rubbed your jean clad thighs. Somehow you’d ended up here from his car, but you didn’t mind. Not when the fluttering in your chest began to slowly turn into a stampede the longer his lips stayed on yours.
“I like this,” he whispered, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.
A smile spread across his bitten and swollen lips, eyes shining brighter than you’d seen them in months. “Kissing you. I really like kissing you.”
“You’re not so bad yourself sergeant,” you said, brushing your lips against his and feeling his hands dig into your hips.
Innocent kissing, you were sure of it. Only then he had to drag your hips forward, dragging you along the thigh that was currently in between your legs and without meaning to you moaned into his mouth. Hands digging into the shirt he was wearing as the fabric of your jeans pressed right against your clit. You wondered if he knew what he was doing or if he’d done it by accident, but then he was kissing you. With a fervor that left you utterly breathless.
“Sound so pretty,” he mumbled, lips attaching to your neck and working his way down. “This okay?”
Blue eyes opened wide, meeting yours and you melted into his hold. The sight of him needy and desperate for you had you already grinding lightly against his thigh until your head was tilting back. It was not enough. It was too much. You couldn’t decide which felt better; his hands sliding down to grip your ass and push you along his thigh or his lips against your throat.
“Fuck-” your breath stuttered. “It’s more than okay.”
Forget everything else, this was even a better high than anything you’d experienced. One you could lose yourself in and so you dragged his lips back to yours, rocking your hips roughly against his thigh as he guided you through it. Grunting as your knee brushed against the obvious bulge in his pants. Fuck the rules of dating. You’d already known by the first one that he was someone who’d stick around. A man you could love with the entirety of your being.
“How do you feel?” he asked, voice deeper than before - darker than you’d ever heard it.
Words were hard to form; your brain was already muddled by the pressure building in your body as your clit continued to rub against your jeans. So you mumbled out a good and dug your face into his neck. It was much more than just good, but your body was already clenching around nothing; mouth dropping as more moans were muffled into his skin.
He tugged your head back, lips sucking at your neck even more. “Just good?”
He smiled at the sound of you crying out. Body nearly covering his and for extra friction he tensed his thigh, dragging you down harder until you were whimpering into his neck. Bucky could recall the nights spent with women, but this...this sight of you getting off just on thigh had him feeling feral.
“Bucky,” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’m gonna - oh fuck-”
The breaking point - the thing that completely shattered you - was him bringing you up to drag against his cock. A moan was swallowed by you kissing him, your hips meeting his in a rush; body jolting as he brought himself closer to the edge with you. Bucky already knew he wouldn’t last long, because his body had been tense ever since you touched him an hour ago. None of that mattered though. Not when you were lost in a haze of pleasure he had created.
“Go on sugar,” he whispered against the shell of your ear - his eyes shutting tight as his body clenched. “Cum for me.”
A cry of his name followed, your back bending slightly as the tension snapped in two. Digging yourself further into him you shook through your release, eyes rolling back and body nearly floating. You certainly didn’t expect this to happen on the second day, but who were you to complain. Especially when you managed to pull yourself together enough and watch his face as he fell apart.
His head tilting back as a grunt left his lips; his teeth digging into his bottom lip. You wanted to see it again and again. The sight itself was more addicting than the high you experienced and you smiled at that thought. Of being addicted to Bucky Barnes.
“Amazing,” you said, laughing lightly against his lips. “Mind blowing, intense, earth-shattering. You pick.”
“All of them,” he replied, nipping at your bottom lip. “I want to do that again.”
You hummed, teasing him with your lips. “With you inside me next time though.”
In a matter of seconds you were being yanked into his arms as he stood. “Bucky!” you yelped.
His hand tapped your ass, feet already heading towards the bedroom. “We’ve still got more kissing to do, sugar.”
Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Innocent kissing your ass.
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summary ─ ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.
pairing ─ bucky barnes & reader (platonic, one sided) [bucky barnes x natasha romanoff]
warnings ─ ANGST, implied major character death, i love me those apparently, soulmate au, i love that one too apparently, unrequited love, suicide mention, implied suicide
a/n ─ i swear this just wrote itself. i was supposed to be writing filth but ended up spitting 2.5k words of angst. hope you like it! all mistakes are my own. please leave a comment! thank you <3
What’s a soulmate?
Well, it’s like a best friend… but more.
It’s the one person in the world who know you better than anyone else.
You’ve met Bucky Barnes when you were in high school, and from the second your eyes found each other, you knew he was your soulmate. You remembered the very first time you’ve seen him; it was across the field where he and his team were playing baseball. He was joking and laughing around with his friends when his warm, blue-grey eyes found yours. You remembered feeling warm and soft all around, like you were being hugged, and remembered the way your heart flipped and let out a joyous scream that meant one thing: He was your soulmate.
You didn’t tell him.
You didn’t even know him back then, and you didn’t want to look like those girls who faked their soulmate situation to go on a date with him; you’ve seen girls and a couple guys doing that. You weren’t like that, so you kept the information to yourself. Later, though, when you got to know each other and became really good friends, you decided against telling him. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, losing this friendship and your only connection to your soulmate. So, you kept it silent.
Keeping silent meant watching him fuss about the people he wanted to ask out but couldn’t because he was nervous. It also meant seeing him kiss and hug and touch and be intimate with others when you were wishing that you could be that person. It sucked. Oh, it sucked so bad. Whenever you saw him kissing someone, or hugging them, or calling them sweet names, you were dying inside. A little piece of your heart died every time you witnessed something like that.
People who were really close to you, other than Bucky, knew about your soulmate situation. They knew about the small mark right behind your ear and knew about its shape: a small, red star. You knew Bucky also had the same shape, but his was gray still. It meant only one thing: He wasn’t your soulmate. If he were, his mark would go red, too, like yours, but it was gray. He wasn’t yours and would never be yours.
It hurt so fucking much.
You were in too deep. You’ve fallen in love with him fast and hard. It was inevitable, and you knew it. He was the One, and there weren’t going to be anyone else but him. You were never going to find someone who could soothe, love or match you in the way that Bucky did. There was only one Bucky Barnes in this world, and he wasn’t your soulmate.
He belonged to someone else.
A soulmate is someone who…
You can carry with you forever.
She showed up during your second year in college.
She had glowing red hair, gorgeous green eyes and take-no-bullshit attitude with a few other extras. She was a ballerina. Her body shape gave it away even before you’ve met her officially. She was Russian, incredibly beautiful and very intelligent. She was someone who could make a great friend once she got used to you. Steve told you that her name was Natasha.
Natasha was also Bucky’s soulmate.
Ever since she walked inside your lives, Bucky had looked at her like she hung the moon, gave the oxygen and sunlight that Bucky needed to live. It hurt seeing him looking at her like this. It hurt to see his mark turn red when he saw her the first time: It changed color right before your eyes. You remembered the tears rushing to your eyes, a sudden lump appearing and clogging your throat. You had had to leave before you burst into tears. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but you didn’t imagine exactly how much it would hurt.
You weren’t better than the day you’ve witnessed his mark changing when Bucky brought her to one of the friends gathering for all of you to meet her: “She’s my girlfriend,” was how he introduced her. “She’s my Natalia.” Your hands were shaking when she extended her hand. You had a fake smile on your lips, tears waiting at the corners of your eyes, waiting for the right time to roll down your cheeks.
It hurt so much, though. It never lessened.
You watched their love grow and turn into something beautiful while you sat on the corner.
It’s the one person who knew
You and accepted you…
You were there when Bucky said ‘I do’ with her at the altar.
All of your friends and all the families were there, watching them with a happy smile on their lips. You could feel your friends’ and your mother’s eyes on you while the officer declared them husband and wife. You remembered avoiding to meet their eyes; you tried to make it look like you were busy being happy for them while clapping.
You were actually dying inside because you just witnessed your soulmate, the only person who really completed you, got married to his soulmate.
It never hurt this much, you realized. It became too much, at the point where you were burning inside and your tears were seriously threatening you to fall. You had to make up an excuse to lock yourself into the bathroom while people were dancing and laughing, so that you could cry loudly, sob and sigh. The pain was sharp; it was making you bleed. It felt like your heart had been cut out and placed on a plate, presented at them to stab it with their love.
Stabbing, they did.
The beauty of their love was the biggest knife you got stabbed with.
You were there when Bucky had his first child from her.
It was a healthy baby boy with Bucky’s hair and nose, and most likely his mother’s personality. Bucky was looking at him like he was the only missing piece that he needed in his life, and finally he found it. You got to hold him as the first person.
“You’re the auntie, after all,” Bucky had said as he placed him into your waiting arms gently. At that moment, you could fake a scenario where it was your child and Bucky was placing your kid into your arms; you were the kid’s mother instead of his aunt. You could pretend at that very small moment until something shattered it.
“You look good with a kid in your arms,” Your grandmother said, smiling. “When will you be having your own, I wonder.” Your fantasy shattered that moment, your smile fell and your body tensed. “I thought you’ve already met your soulmate; what are you waiting for?” You swallowed harshly and gave the baby back to Bucky as gently as you could in your rush.
“Excuse me,” you murmured and left the hospital room. The tears were falling while you were closing the door behind you. Your ears were filled with a buzzing sound, eyes burning already, as your lungs struggled with allowing oxygen in, and you stepped into the bathroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls.
You didn’t realize Bucky was coming after you.
“Honey?” Bucky called out gently, and you wanted to sob more. He always called you ‘honey’ when you were having a shit day; he told you that him calling you that always made you smile, and he was right. “Are you there?” You tried not to make any noise, but he didn’t need you to. He sighed. “When were you going to tell me that you’ve met your soulmate?” He asked.
“Go away, please,” you said with a weak voice. You sniffed and ripped a piece of toilet paper to wipe away your tears and some snot.
“No─” Bucky reached for the door of your stall and yanked it open. His eyes went wide and pain flashed in there. You scrambled to shoo him, but he was faster; you were pulled into a hug that you did not know you needed so bad. You froze for a second only to burst into tears and sob uncontrollably, wetting his t-shirt. “Oh, honey…” You sobbed harder.
You cried and cried and cried while you held onto him as tight as you could since you knew that he was not going to let you go without learning the truth. It was probably your last time seeing and holding him like this, you realized and stilled at the thought. Your hands tightened on his t-shirt, arms winding themselves around his body and squeezing him.
Bucky called out your name softly. “Are you going to tell me?” He tried to pulled back, but you didn’t let him.
“I saw him when we were in high school,” you murmured with a cracked voice. Bucky frowned. “He was playing baseball with his friends and laughing. I’ve watched him from afar for a while, and he knew he was being watched by me and he was okay with it because one day he ran up to me and said─”
“’Why don’t you watch me from closer? You’re gonna hurt your eyes,’” Bucky finished it with a whisper. You nodded.
“I knew he was my soulmate from the moment he looked at me while joking with one of his friends with a baseball bat in his hand,” you continued. “He looked at me, and I was someone.” You buried your face deeper into his chest. “You made me feel like I’m someone, Bucky,” you whispered.
“I’m your soulmate,” he whispered back. You nodded again. “I─ Why didn’t you say anything?” You shrugged.
“Your friendship was more important,” you said, sniffing a little. “I knew I wasn’t─ I saw your mark. So, I wanted to keep the friendship at least. Because, y’know, it was the only way I could have you.” Bucky made a broken sound; his eyes were red and teary. “You’re It, for me, James. My soulmate, the One, Love of my fucking Life, but as a friend is the only way I can have you.” You pulled back. “Now I lost that, too, just like I lost you to Natasha.” You smiled at him, all teary. “It’s okay, though, she’s perfect for you the way I’m not.” You sniffed and shrugged. “You two deserve each other, really.” You went to the sink and washed your face, drying it with a couple tissues. You walked towards the door, Bucky following you like a shadow with his mouth still open with shock.
Both of you walked outside slowly. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the air that had no hospital smell in it. You closed your eyes and smiled.
“Go back inside,” you told him, meeting with his eyes and looking at those beautiful blue eyes for the last time. “Your wife and newborn baby are probably waiting for you.” Bucky blinked.
“I’m not that, anymore,” you whispered. “If I were your honey, I would have been your soulmate.” You smiled; the pain clear in the twitch of your lips. “Go back inside, James.” Bucky hesitated for a second before he wrapped your up in a hug. He was still in shock, you could tell. You hugged him right back.
“I can still be your friend,” he whispered. “You know that, right?” You chuckled humorlessly.
“You don’t understand, but it’s okay,” you said. “I understand what you mean, but I really cannot be your friend any longer, Bucky. It…” You took a shaky breath, eyes closing and one tear slipping away. “It hurts too much. To see you like that with her. Knowing that I’ll be alone until I die.” You sniffed, blinking. “Go inside. Take care of your family.” He opened his mouth, but you stopped him. “Go.” He clenched his jaw. His eyes got that stubborn spark going off in them, but you shook your head, pleading him to just do what you said. He sighed. “I love you,” you said, looking at his eyes. Then, you smiled at him widely, sincerely. “I love you so much, James Barnes. Don’t forget that.”
With that, you left him in front of the hospital where his wife and newborn baby were waiting for him.
And no matter what happens,
You will always love them.
Nothing can ever change that.
Ten days later, James Barnes got a call from the police.
“We have a situation that need you to come to the station, Mr. Barnes,” they said. “We found a body by the shore, and this little mark led us to you,” they continued, showing the picture of a small, red star mark situated behind an ear. Bucky froze.
He knew what that meant.
“No,” he whispered. They looked uncomfortable. “No, that can’t be…”
“We need you to testify that whether the body we’ve found on the shore belongs to your long-time friend or not,” they said. It looked like they hated giving the news, like it pained them also. Bucky clenched his jaw, tried to hold back his tears as he nodded. They led him to the morgue. Bucky’s whole body was shaking violently as they lifted the white sheet, revealing your face.
“No,” he gasped. “It─ I─ No,” he whispered. Tears were running free, now. “How─”
“Suicide is what we think,” they answered Bucky’s half-question. “She most likely jumped from the bridge and drowned. That is if they were alright after the water pressure hit them.” Bucky felt like he couldn’t breathe, felt like he was drowning, too, and he gasped loudly. They inched closer to him, eyes worried. “Would you like to go out, sir?”
Bucky felt embarrassed as he nodded. You’ve watched him loving on other people, marrying his own damn soulmate and having a kid from them; you bared all the pain, and he couldn’t even bare the pain of your absence for ten days. Not when you never really had him by your side.
They led bucky out of the morgue gently. Bucky sat down on one of the chairs, gasping and sobbing and crying. The tears were running free, rolling down your cheeks, as he sobbed and sobbed. It hurt to see you so… frozen. It didn’t suit you. You were always lively, bubbly and easy to smile. Now, though, you were lying on that silver table without a twitch of life on your face, and it was too much─
“It’s her,” Bucky said. “It’s… the right person.” They thanked him silently and helped him get out of the station where Natalia was waiting for him. She saw his state, his face and all the tears, and she rushed to his side.
“Oh, James,” she whispered. Bucky hugged her tightly for a minute.
The knowing of it all, the having Bucky as your soulmate and not really having him in your life, had damaged him forever, he knew it. He was going to be half until he was going to die, he knew this, too. He may not have been your soulmate in that way, maybe, but you were half of his soul in some other way.
“Let’s get you home,” Natalia whispered into his ear. Bucky nodded.
Going home while leaving you behind in that cold, cold room on that even colder silver table made his heart cry: “Don’t leave her there,” it cried. “She’s gonna get sick if you do!”
He had no choice, though, had he?
You were gone. He was too late.
He was never going to forgive himself for that.
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this is dbf!bucky i am not taking any type of debate
also i am going FERAL over this photo, okay bye
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Pairing: Bucky x reader (Beefy!bucky)
Word Count: 684
Summary: You have the best Halloween costume and you want to surprise Bucky for the party. Hopefully he loves it.
Author’s Note: Happy Kinktober! We are almost half way through! Thank you all so much for your continued kindness and support! For day 14 I’m going with the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club prompt: skeleton/costume/role play. I got this idea about a week ago and couldn’t wait to write it. It’s ridiculous and silly but I hope it makes you smile! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf
Warnings: fun flirty teasing, fluff, total silliness and implied smut (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)
Gifs NOT MINE: Credit for both goes to @steverogersnotebook Thank you so much! 🥰
Kinktober Masterlist 2021
“Why can’t you just tell me baby doll?” Bucky asks with a mischievous light in his eyes. “The party is in like four hours.”
“Nope! Not telling. You’ll just have to wait,” you sing and give him a quick peck to the lips.
He grabs you around the waist and pulls you down into his lap.
“Tell me!” he demands, smirking when he dances his fingers down your sides and you let out a squeal.
“NO BUCK! And don’t you dare start tickling me! That is so unfair!”
He digs his fingers in a little harder, grinning when you try but fail to get loose.
“I cannot believe you would use such barbaric methods to find out! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”
He eases up and cradles you against his chest. “Ok, ok. I’ll be good,” he sighs.
You smile up at him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Thanks.”
“Is it a really sexy costume though? Are we even gonna make it to the party?” he asks with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“OH MY GOD BUCK!” you shout and hit his chest. “GIVE IT UP!”
He pouts but you don’t give in and pull his hat down over his eyes. “You’ll see soon enough.”
When it’s time for you to get ready you shoo him out and tell him to go hang with Steve. He does so reluctantly and promises to be back at seven sharp. You shower and do your make up, using different shades of purple for the eyeshadow and lipstick.
You pull on the costume and add the hat, adjusting it to perfection just as Bucky knocks.
“It’s me doll face. I didn’t want to barge in and ruin my surprise.”
“You can come in,” you tell him. “I’m ready.”
He opens the door and walks in, looking around the room. “Where are you baby girl?”
“Right here,” you say as you walk into the living room.
He stops in his tracks.
“You’re a plum,” he whispers and takes a tentative step forward.
You bounce off your toes and tip your little purple hat with the stem and leaf.
“Is that bad?” you ask with worry.
He keeps staring.
“I love plums.”
“Yes. I know,” you reply, fiddling with the puffiness of the costume. “I thought you might think it was cute.”
He takes another step forward and smooths his hands over the plush material.
“You’re a plum,” he says again.
“Do you hate it?” you ask sheepishly.
“I love it. I love you! You look so fucking cute.”
You look up and see him smiling brightly and jump into his arms but you’re so round it’s hard to get a good hug in.
“Now I know why you wanted me to be a banana,” he laughs.
“Speaking of, where is your costume?” you ask.
“In our closet. I’m going to get dressed in a minute.”
He toys with your little hat, turning it slightly before looking you over again.
“I can’t believe you’re a plum,” he smiles.
With a soft kiss he jogs off to the bedroom. “Wait right here baby doll. I’ll be dressed in a minute.”
You check your make up in the mirror and grab your purple flats. Just as you slip the second one on Bucky comes back into the room.
You let out a peel of laughter. “You’re a giant banana,” you cackle. “I love it.”
He saunters over and grabs you around the waist as best he can.
“And after the party I’m gonna stick my giant banana in your juicy plum.”
You giggle, sticking your hands inside the arms of his costume and running your fingers over his chest.
“Giant huh?” you tease.
“You know it is,” he murmurs.
“Mmm I do,” you giggle. “Or maybe we’ll have a chance to sneak away during the party…” you trail off, feigning innocence with a coy smile.
“I’d love to get my mouth on your juicy plum anytime,” he simpers.
“We’re going be talking like this all night, aren’t we?” you ask with a smirk.
“I’m counting on it,” he answers.
@aydinmaiden @book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @in-umbra-gratia @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @musicalmuffindog1410 @moongreydreams @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @saiyanprincessswanie @starlightcrystalline @tumblin-theworldaway @white-wolf1940 @suchababie @silentkiller2374 @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @creatingjana @glxwingrxse
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𝑆𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 — 𝑆𝑒𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑛
𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — Sebastian Stan x Fem!reader
𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — SMUT, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)
𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 — I gotta say I tried to go for a short but hot fic yk, reblog and comment! *not my gif
„Seb! Stop, oh god!“ Sebastian draw hard circles over your clit, a shit eating grin painting his face. Sebastian had tried for the last two months to squirt and right now he was the closest he’d ever been.
You had nothing against it, it even was your idea but right now you had a weird feeling in your belly which you’d never felt before.
Sebastian said it had to be like this and that you were about to squirt. The feeling hurt a bit however it was quickly covered with pleasure as relief came over you.
Your boyfriend grinned at you as you overlaid his face with your juice. “You fucking bastard.” You breathed out as you fell back into the pillows. “Bastard? I just made you squirt and come!” He laughed at you.
When you brought up the idea of him making you squirt you didn’t know it was going to be like that. The first few tries were unsuccessful, so Sebastian had the glorious idea to do it when you had to be which was actually cheating as you said.
“You ready for another?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows with a seductive smirk. “Sorry, but I don’t have to pee again which means you can’t cheat, and we know how the last few times went…” You trailed off as your eyes moved to the sheets.
Sebastian took that offensive and suddenly you were grabbed by your ankles pulled down further on the bed.
Surprised a gasp fell from your lips at his actions.
He grasps you hips and shoves himself deep inside, not giving you any chance to adjust to his size like he did so often. Sebastian pulls back and shoves back in hard enough to move you several inches up the sheets.
Sebastian never before thrusted so hard and maybe that was the reason you had never squirted sooner.
The feeling you have felt not too long ago was building up again like a thread that was threatened to be cut with a scissor. A snap, a cut, the right angle to the right spot was all it took for you waters to break once more.
You man couldn’t be any happier as he grinned from ear to ear proud of himself that he made you cum and squirt without ‘cheating’.
“Tell me I cheater once more I dare you to.” He whispered as his thrusts slowed down. “And get that outcome again?” You cocked a brow at him receiving a chuckle from him.
“You know I haven’t come yet today…” He lowly trailed of.
Your eyes widened in shock. “I’m not gonna make you squirt.” You said with raised hands. Sebastian shook his head in response. “No draga that’s not what I meant.”
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call me when you want
summary || when you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.
warnings || BDSM, Dom! Bucky Barnes, dom/sub dynamics, phone sex, dirty talk, identity porn, sex toys, and a lot more (if you didn’t get the gist, this is filthy). SMUT. ANGST. FLUFF. (the holy trinity).
I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!
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𝐀 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐭 | 𝐁.𝐁.
synopsis: after a millennium's worth of life, bucky finds it high time to get a haircut
pairing: bucky barnes x reader, circa tfatws era
A/N: back with more writing because i felt *inspired* out of the blue and wanted to experiment with tumblr again. engagement is forever appreciated and requests are open.
Want to come over and eat fast food off my floor? Xo
Twenty minutes later and Bucky is crouched on your kitchen tile, cross-legged and wearing a black bomber jacket with little zippers tracking back and forth across the breast. A safe haven of all things meant to be tucked against one’s chest! He was close enough to smell - all that bergamot and amber musk and the reek of the underground subway. Sometimes, when he shifted closer, you’d catch a whiff of diesel wafting off his chest, and be reminded of a life entailing aircraft carriers and high speed chases.
He is a winsome smile shadowed by the halogen light, blinking up from under his eyelashes while your knees knock together. It eats up his face like a camera’s flash. In his hand was a steaming cardboard box of Sichuan pork from the local Chinese place, the grease from it bleeding through in big, uneven grey splotches.
Bucky laughs; you laugh, with your spine pulled crooked and a ponytail falling down it caught in a clip, though nothing witty was said. It was just you and him and the cooling chow mein, as Bucky lingers over a story he was telling, something about Maksim Martynov and the Soviet delegation. Unsurprisingly, he was the most worldly person you could ever imagine knowing. Bucky spun stories constantly, about worlds so removed from your very reality they seemed fictional - Scandinavian grasslands with mountain summits so high you feel like you’re hallucinating religion; cramped cobblestone pathways of post-Stalin Russia, dimly lit with the allegorical Iron Curtain spread wide like a party banner as a half-man filled in with metal slipped through the shadows; bright, booming east Asian cities lit up like circuit boards - Tokyo, Seoul, Tianjin. He makes you wonder, and when he tells stories, you ask questions. You are rapt, attentive. You’ll start a sentence while he is still finishing one, and he will interject something he forgot while you are talking yourself, or a joke, or a reference, as if even a momentary lapse is too long to sit with silence, as if neither of you can wait to crawl into the other’s brain, just a bit more. Your kitchen was a sacred space, a den of hard linoleum and a singular, orange lamp just above the sink and the fatty smell of takeout.
Bucky had his own hair - long by any man’s terms - clawed back tight at the nape of his neck. The band was so old you were sure it would create a ridge in the thick body of it all. A couple stray wisps fall out from behind his ear as he bows forward to snag a dumpling.
You lean forward to brush them back, as if by habit, though there was the very real possibility Bucky would just snap back out of reach. He doesn’t, and you feel how warm the skin on the side of his cheek was. “Why do you keep your hair so long?”
It’s not hateful, or meant to be a joke. Bucky sits up straighter, caught with his first two fingers in his mouth as he licked off a piece of garlic sauce. “Mhm.”
He gestures a finger into the air then, as if to list his rationality. “I could either cut it myself, and risk looking dumb as shit,” you laugh, and he raises a second finger then, as if to say, next, “or, I could walk down into one of those barber shops in Manhattan and, you know, very understandably be denied service.”
You smile, chin dropped down to rest on your knees, as Bucky continues. “Because, believe it or not, the patriots of New York sort of take it personally when you send Captain America off a bridge.”
“You’re not that person anymore.” You answer, without even thinking about it. The Bucky who sat before you was so disconnected from the pawn he was forced to be during the events of 2014, and everything prior for that matter, that it didn’t even seem a reasonable juxtaposition, to you. Besides, counting The Snap, everything he was referencing took place more than a decade ago. When you thought of Bucky, you thought of the guy who called you on your shit and said getting the hot laundry of the dryer “made him sweat,” the one who killed it in a game of Mancala and got lunch every Wednesday with Mr. Nakajima and loved the Gwendolyn Brooks quote of “even if you are not ready for the day, it can not always be night.”
But it would also be childish of you to not admit that he did have a point. Objectively, the ghost of the figure who he was would linger, forever. You cock your head then, studying Bucky. “I mean, I could always cut it.”
He scoffs a little, incredulous. “What, you mean, like…now? Like...with a pair of scissors?”
You shrug, feigning offense. “Sure, why not? I cut all of my brothers’ hair growing up.” The first two fingers of your left hand form a pair of scissors then, clomping through the air. “And if you know a better tool to use...by all means.”
He laughs, putting his hands up. “No, sorry, I was just surprised.”
The two of you lock eyes then, caught in a game of so who’s gonna bluff. Slowly, Bucky gives in to a grin. And that’s how, smothered under a cape like a little boy, he ends up in your bathroom in Murray Hill.
Blinking up from where he was sitting, Bucky’s eyes catch the light. He had beautiful eyes, ones that had witnessed the very urbanization of Brooklyn from the ground up, the slit trenches of the German battlefield, the very first Jeep rolling off the assembly line during November of 1940.
Gingerly, you tug at the bottoms of his hair experimentally. Bucky hollers as if he’s been branded by fire, and you spook so hard your mouth waters. As your eyes met in the mirror then, he dissolved into a high-pitched fit of laughter. Bucky’s was boyishly high and rusty, as if he didn’t use it much.
“I’m kidding.” He retorts, as if he has any right to be exasperated by the reaction he caused. In the mirror, you wave the scissors menacingly.
“Somebody should have taught you not to fuck with someone who’s about to hold a sharp object to the back of your neck.”
Bucky is still snickering yet, but he sombers up just a hair. “Wait, okay, seriously. I know I’m being paranoid and I know this is dumb but for real, you totally can’t cut me. Like, I will express visible anger. And you can’t purposely make my hair look dumb, and-”
You cut him off, rolling your eyes. “I’m not not going to be careful.”
“Gah,” he articulates, ever the one with words. “Okay, I do want you to do this, but it feels weird, you know? Last time I was that clean-cut, short haired ducky shincracker was before I shipped out, and it was Soldat who had the long hair, and I feel as if I’m not either of those guys, you know?”
Bucky only rambles like this when he’s nervous. Gently, you place a hand on his shoulder, feel the warmth of his blood bleed straight through into your bones. “Bucky, I solemnly promise I will not fuck your shit up. If you end up not liking whatever we do, we’ll just change it, deal? Life doesn’t have to be about all this...conformity.”
He seems to placate, if only a smidge. “Deal. But if you get hair down the back of my shirt, I’m not leaving you a tip.”
Hair is surprisingly hard to work with, if you want the end result to look decent. Firstly, you just snip off the length of Bucky’s in chunks that fell to the floor in soft, dark waves, which was easy enough, but the clippers were a different story. You had to double-check, and then triple, that you had the right attachment clipped on, and that you were lining up the back of his head correctly. Then there was that odd stage when doing a fade where they sort of end up looking like that godawful piece they had Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders rocking.
You just kept dampening it, and combing through, before focusing on the top with your shears. At one point, Bucky’s hair was short in the back with grungy bangs curving out over his chin, and you were tempted to keep it so. It was sleek. But in the end, you resort to replicating a classic crew-cut best you could, spiky chunks sticking up near the man’s forehead.
“There,” you state, shutting the buzz of the clippers off. “What do you think?”
“Wow.” Said Bucky, nodding in a deadpan fashion as he peered up at himself in the mirror. “I actually look like a man again.”
You could see right through the deprecation. Bucky’s breath had caught in his chest for a fraction of a second despite the jovial lift to his voice, as if he was staring straight back at some sort of cosmic meshing of past and present. The way his gaze lingered, the way his shoulders tensed, then dropped, then raised again - you can’t just mask that.
“Oh, shit.” You crane forward with the scissors once more, spotting a few longer pieces on his sideburns that made the pair of them uneven. “There.”
Bucky cranes his neck back then, to grin up at you in a way that birthed wrinkles. “You made me look like Iron Man. You got some thing for playboys I don’t know about?
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Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
AN: You’re more than friends, but no one knows. You’re more than lovers, but neither of you have said it. He’s tired, you’re drained. Little smut, little angst, a lot of fluff.
He knows he’s staring.
Bucky is making painstakingly obvious, and he knows he should stop. But he can't.
If he’s completely honest, he is sure he does it a lot. His eyes somehow always find you. Every time you smile, he’s sure the room gets a little darker and you’re the only light. Every time you laugh, he’s sure he feels a tug of his own lips.
Because he’s in love with you. Has been for a while.
Has been since the first time you looked at him with those smiling eyes and he found his chest exploding.
But in true fashion, when he first met you, he disliked you.
You were too upbeat, too comfortable. And then he got paired with you for training, and he hated every second, until you got him on his back, and then he didn't dislike you at all. Not even a little bit.
Least of all when you smirked down at him, holding your hand out to help him up. “Didn’t think that would be how I got the Winter Soldier on his back.”
He didn’t know why that line was the one which made him smile. But as soon as you cracked one, he found you could do it over and over again.
Running a hand over his face, he watches as you talk to Steve. And he hates it. Hating that it’s not him where his friend stands.
“You’re doing it again,” Sam says too joyfully for Bucky's liking.
He slowly turns his head, finding a grinning Falcon beside him.
He hates how the drink in his friends hand is tipped towards him, a smirk written all over his face. “That whole staring-not-staring thing, does it work for you? Does it usually help you get the girls?”
“I’m not staring.”
“Gazing. Observing. Pick your verb, but you’re doing it.”
He says nothing. Choosing silence.
Sam laughs. “Just tell the girl how you damn well feel. The rest of us are getting bored of the will-they-won’t-they.”
He lets his eyes find you again, watching as you throw your head back, hand on Steve’s arm as the two of you laugh.
He feels a string snaps inside of him. One which has been getting more and more worn as time has gone on. He's not jealous, but he's something.
The secrecy, it worked until it didn't.
The dating behind everyone’s back had been going swimmingly until recently.
Until he sees how close you are with others, how other people let their eyes wander over you. Worst of all, you don't notice.
I don't need their eyes, just yours, Barnes.
I don't like how they look at you.
And he's sure, no adamant, that he's yours too.
He’s made it obvious, he's been to your door enough times. He's let his lips leave marks all over your skin, held your too close for you to not know how he feels.
Your fingers brushing over his cheek as he stares, just like he is now. Except then, your feet were tangled in his, his metal hand brushing over your hip as you smile softer, more gently than you do with anyone else.
The others don't know how many times you find yourselves pressed against the other. How many stolen moments the two of you try and get, around missions, around teams nights and everything else.
Only the other morning, your lay beside him. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip, fingers tracing circles along his jaw.
You’re a good man. Do you know that?
No. You need to hear it. I don't think you believe you are. But you are, Barnes. You're good. You're a good person.
I don't deserve you.
And yet, here I am.
You said the last bit with a smile. And he answered it with a kiss.
And then another, and another until your mouths didn’t leave any space to breath. He remembers sliding his finger between your legs. Pressing you against your mattress as he slowly made you chant his name as he listened to your breaths and moans, his forehead pressing against yours as nails dug into his shoulders.
“Go over there, Buck,” Sam says, interrupting his thoughts again. "You clearly want to."
Bucky opens his mouth, ready to snap he doesn't need to. That you know, that you're already his.
But then he hears you cheer from across the room. His eyes snap to you, finding your arms thrown up as Steve hugs you, the two of you looking close.
He doesn’t answer.
He can’t answer. A lump forming in his throat.
“She likes you too, Buck.”
He grimaces, both because it’s true and because Steve is still holding you, and you're not pulling away.
And he wishes it was him.
You don’t mean to, but your eyes always find his.
Across a room. Across a mission.
It doesn't matter. He centres you, dousing the fear inside a little bit whenever he's close. Now, though, he's far away. Sticking to the outskirts of the bar you'd all gone too.
You wish he was beside you as you keep the grin on your face the others are expecting. But, deep down, you just want him.
There's something about the way he holds you, both unafraid you’d break, but cautious enough not to chance it. And when he kisses you it's as though he's trying to say a thousand words.
Although, not the first time. The first time he kissed you like you were the antidote to all his poisons; that first time, it made your toes curl just thinking about it.
Metal hand on the wall, the other hand on your hip, pressing you against the wall of the compound as the thrum of the music vibrates through the two of you.
Caging me in, Barnes? You only had to ask to talk to me.
Stop talking, doll.
Just kiss me, Barnes.
“Here,” Steve says, handing you a beer as you pull your eyes from across the room. “Congrats.”
“Well, I had a great teacher.”
Steve smirks. “I think you'd have been found a way.”
“That’s very true. I am sneaky,” you say, casting a glance across the room before meeting Steve's.
And he sighs, and you know what’s coming before it does.
Because Steve, unlike Bucky, is predictable.
You’re sure he has speeches upon speeches in his back pocket, all ready to be spoken to any who will listen. Because he's Captain America and he's on a pedestal.
His mouth opens.
Because lying to him is hard.
Lying to everyone is hard. But them all knowing, that seems harder.
“—I was just going to saying—“
“Please. Just please. One night, that's all I ask.”
Because Steve knows.
He found out, knocked on your door one morning finding a half-naked Bucky sprawled in your bed.
Your heart had fallen to your feet.
"I need to ask."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"Is this a one time thing, because he's been through a lot? He's my best friend."
"No, Steve. No it isn't."
He likely knew before the two of you even did.
And now, you're in love with him. With Steve's friend.
The man who you're sure hated you when he first met you.
Now, Bucky is all you think about, and when you’re with him things make more sense. He’s broken, and you’re damaged, and it’s okay, because you’re not trying to fix him and he’s not trying to make things better.
He shaped you to be stronger on your feet, and you made him laugh.
“He spends nearly every night with you.”
You know, I don't know whether you like spending time with me or prefer my bed.
You're not bad yourself.
Thanks. Way to make a girl feel good.
“They're going to figure it out. He asks about you. Bucky doesn’t ask about anyone, not even me.”
Sighing, you drain your beer. “I know everything you’re going to say.”
“Yes. Because you’re Captain America and your speeches on love don’t change all that much,” you smirk, placing your bottle down. “I also know that if anyone else gave you nearly as much lip as me, you’d dress them down. So, while you’d deliver it nicer because we’re friends, you would still tell me that everyone will be very happy for us.”
“And, knowing this, you’re not telling anyone because…”
Shrugging, you scrunch your nose before you sigh. “Because things are good. And things can rarely ever be described as such. And, because I just kicked Rhodey’s ass at darts with my best friend by my side, and…”
“Does he love you too?”
You know he does.
He makes it obvious.
“I just… I care about you,” Steve adds, and you give him a pointed look.
Because you know Bucky lets very few in. You know he hates being close to someone, hates others touching him. Hell, he even hates showing anyone the joint of where his arm meets his shoulder.
Because it had taken you weeks when you first began hanging out.
His t-shirt remaining on even when he showed up at your door or you at his.
Letting your head drop you snort. “Steve. One night, please. Just... lay off. Please? You shouldn't even know, he doesn't even know you know.”
You know Steve won't, not all night. "Fine. But you're a bad liar."
"I'm the worst, but, you don't have to make it any harder."
"You love him."
You roll your eyes. "Ugh, Steve. Shut up.”
He's not even sure he's breathing as you pass him to go to bed and he's unsure whether to follow.
Every part of him desperate to reach out to you.
He hates that he's not been close to you. Some nights, exactly like this, is when the secret feels too much. When he misses out, when he has to sit back and be a spectator of your happiness.
He knows it's his fault.
He didn't want everyone to ruin it, to ruin this thing between the two of you.
Out of fear, mainly. But also selfishly because he partners with you so much. He didn't want to lose the moments with you at night, because of the moments others would ruin in the day.
He's not a reason for us to.
Doll. He's the biggest reason. He's already on our case about being together, wait till he finds out we are.
I don't want to have this conversation with you like this.
You started it.
And now your shirtless. It's hard to focus when your shirtless.
But, he regrets it now.
Because it hurts. You've said nothing to him all night.
Exactly like he said it had to be. Because he worried you both were making it obvious, that he couldn't stop staring, that Sam was being more on his case than normal.
He runs a hand over his face, catching Steve's eye as he groans internally at not being able to hide it quickly enough.
He suspects Steve knows. Even if you deny it.
You're a bad liar. He's unsure how you've gone as long as you have without spilling. He's impressed, not that he'll admit it.
So he smiles as Steve claps his hand on his shoulder as he stands beside him. Trying to hide his annoyance that his friend has been with his girl all night. As if all night he’s not been wishing he was the one making you laugh and grin.
He knows the two of you are friends. But he’s Cap after all. He’s good, he’s kind. He has his shit together.
You deserve someone like Steve over someone like him.
A thought he tries to bury each time it surfaces.
“You good, Buck?”
He nods, sending a smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“You wanna go for a run tomorrow?”
He agrees. Only because it’ll get him up, and out of your bed before everyone else wakes.
It’ll push the wandering morning thoughts which seem as rampant as they are at night. The ones where he replays all the moments he and all the mistakes he’s made.
He'd much prefer his mind to play the moments with you.
Ones in the training room where your eyes soften as they meet his; mornings where you're curled next to him, scrolling your phone, not finding it off how close the two of you are. Missions where he seeks you out, arms around you when he sees a split lip or a cut on your cheek; nights where all he wants is you, thankful you need him as much as he needs you.
"See you in the morning then, don’t wake her when you get up."
He nods, before the words hit him.
And the he can’t say anything. And everyone else is leaving, so they’ll hear.
So he stands.
Watching them all heading for bed, and he can't think of anything worse.
He hates the mattress, how cold his bed feels without you.
Most of all, he sleeps better with you beside him. When you're away, he tosses and turns, frustration mounting. He can't just head to your room, too many eyes will spot him.
Even if one pair already has.
And he’s not sure how, because he’s been careful. He’s had to be for the both of you.
So he stands, waiting, thinking. Hoping everyone leaves so he can…
He’s not even sure.
What is this, Barnes?
What do you want it to be?
I want to matter to you.
You matter, Doll. You'll always matter to me.
But Sam remains. Sam is all that's left.
Sam who is staring at him, and can’t keep his nose out of his business. Admittedly, he pretends to hate it, but only because he doesn't want to admit he likes it.
He doesn't want to admit much. Including that he's with you, that he's in love with you.
You. You who he realises he wants to find. You who he wants to touch, and hold.
“You gonna tell her…”
He clenches his fist. “Shut up, Sam.”
“Oh, you’re so gonna tell her,” Sam says more excitedly.
Drawing circles, squares and lines into the floor as you do so.
Trying to forget his thigh against you in the cab. The way his arm came around the back of the seat, claiming it was for more room, but you knew it wasn't. The way his aftershave smelled, how he said ‘sorry, doll’ when the cab went over a bump.
You’d have kissed him. You’d have lost yourself in him, if Sam wasn’t beside him.
You couldn’t think around him, and he knew that. He did it to torture you, to have you on the edge. He does it a lot, sometimes without meaning too. When he's coming back from a mission, and you want to wrap your arms around him. Or when your heart is in your throat when you see he's in danger. Only relaxing when he's beside you, nudging you, a private thing you both understand.
Stop worrying, I’m made of stronger stuff, Doll.
Stop making me worry.
I can't do that.
I know that too.
And right now, pacing the floor of your room at the compound, all you wanted to do is find him. You've missed him.
You want to throw your arms around his neck and feel him against you.
Because as soon as you won that goddamn game of darts, you wanted to tell him. You wanted to hug him—even if he hates them—and tell him you’d finally done it. You’d finally beaten Rhodey and Bruce.
And he wants beside you to enjoy it.
And you hate it.
You despise the secret and the fear more and more as seconds amount to minutes.
“Fuck it,” you whisper, grabbing a jumper as you rip open your door.
And you freeze. Because he's here.
Bucky is here.
Standing at your door.
Neither of you speak, and you worry he can hear your heart thumping in your chest. His eyes slide from yours to your lips, and you swallow, finding the lump catches, seemingly unmoving as you try to breathe.
His lips capture yours, softly but with purpose. Your jumper falling from your fingers inside your room as he lifts you from the floor, legs either side of him, as he kicks your door shut behind him.
It screams I’ve missed you, and you respond with the same. Hands grasping at his jacket, uncaring about darts and winning.
You think of undressing him, of feeling him. You think of getting so lost in him you forget your feelings, like you always do.
He drops you on the edge of your bed, your hands falling to his belt as he grips your hands.
“No. I need to say something.”
Your eyes widen, and he runs a hand over his face.
Dread pools over lust.
Regret and shame filling you as you try to move, to wiggle away as his hands grab your shoulders, holding you in place.
Because, this is it.
This is when things go wrong.
"Have I done... have I done something wrong?"
“No—I mean, shit—no, don’t move. I just… fuck, I love you.”
You almost grin.
“Bucky, I love…”
“Don’t,” he says, firmly, closing his eyes. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I wouldn’t. I’m not."
His eyes slowly open, illuminating you in blue. Drowning you in it, casting surprise and love over you as he takes in your features. Acknowledging you’re being serious.
“I love you too, Bucky,” you reaffirm, “I do. But, we can't keep doing this. I can't keep secrets, I'm trying, but..."
Bucky smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I don't know if I like you calling me Bucky."
He slides to lie next to you, your head rolling to meet his gaze. "You prefer Barnes?"
"I didn't think I would."
You smile, biting the inside of your mouth as you nudge him.
"Doll, I hated tonight."
You're taken back.
Not because you didn't hate it, you did.
The secrets, the lies. It had been fun at first, but then... it stopped.
You’d hated it for weeks, despising it for days.
Always having to be on guard, always remembering not to give into a thought or a moment.
You didn’t want to push him, to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. He’d had enough of that, you didn’t want to be an addition to it.
But now, he’s saying it.
And it’s like music to your ears.
"I hated it more than I hate Sam calling me a Cyborg."
Laughing, you nod. "Me too. I beat Rhodey at darts."
His hand finds yours, sliding his metal fingers between yours. "I heard."
And at first, you don't move.
Because you both don’t hold hands. The few times you have has been for comfort only, and away from prying eyes. But this is different, because he picked the other hand.
The one he hates.
The one he always fears you’re afraid of. Not realising you’re not scared of him at all, you never could be, never have been.
He lifts your hand, bringing the back of yours to his lips as he holds your gaze.
"I wish you'd been there."
"It has been your lifelong dream," he teases.
You smile, gripping his hand. "You’re mean."
"And you’re a bad liar,” he replies, and you frown. “When did Steve find out, Doll?"
You can't help it, your lips slide up your face and he looks at you, watching you, studying your lie as it blossoms.
"I just told you you're a bad liar."
You groan. "Fine. A while ago."
"For that, shotgun not telling Sam."
You’re set to groan. To moan about how annoying Sam can be when he’s right. But then he kisses you. His other hand coming to your hip as he deepens it, making up for all the ones you wish he’d given you all night.
And your mind silences.
Finding you don’t care anymore.
Placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the light stubble under your thumb as he makes you care less and less.
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should’ve been you | bucky barnes
summary: part 7 | it should’ve been you | a wedding rehearsal and a confrontation of all confrontations, will the truth finally come out?
warnings: 18+ ONLY! alludes to smut, mention of smut, angsty, ohhh baby is it angsty, cuss words; lots of them!, kinda fluffy, lots of dialogue, lots of feelings, !!! (this is long!! im sorry!!)
eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.
Bucky wasn’t ignoring you, he just needed some time to think. He replayed what you said over and over. As soon as you slammed the door in his face, he drove back to his house, and laid on the couch, he stared at the ceiling…and replayed your words. Again and again.
Not the Steve comment, he knew you didn’t mean that. But the comment about the game…the “fuck you for not coming to the game,” played over and over in his brain like the lyrics to a favorite song. The hurt in your eyes, the disappointment in your voice, he knew you meant those words from the bottom of your heart. You begrudged him for not coming to that game. You’ve held this against him for who knows how long. You felt the exact same way he did…fucking pissed he did not show up when he was supposed to.
He didn’t get any sleep that night. The second he saw your name light up his phone he wanted to answer it. He wanted to answer and tell you to come over right now. In fact, he threw on his shoes and coat and grabbed his keys but stopped himself. He needed more time to think. He needed to do this carefully. He needed to plot his words carefully.
Just because you were mad at him for not coming to the game doesn’t mean you feel the same way he did. For fuck’s sake, you’ve been with his best friend for the past three years. You’ve loved his best friend. You love his best friend. He doesn’t know if you love him. He just knows you were mad, you are mad, that he didn’t come to that fucking baseball game.
You called and texted a few more times but he just couldn’t bring himself to answer. He saw your apologies, he knew you were sorry, he wasn’t angry with you.
He was just…confused.
He wanted to be sure of himself before you two talked again. He wanted to be sure that the next time he saw you he was confident in what he had to say. He wanted to be sure the next time he saw you, he could finally tell you just how fucking much he loved you.
A few hours went by and you had stopped trying to contact him. He wanted to come to you but he figured he’d call you first, give you a heads up. Too much of his surprise you ignored his call. He waited a few minutes and he tried again.
“Fuck.” He whispered quietly.
He was so tired of this game you two were playing. He was so tired of the constant back and forth, not knowing if you feel the same, or if you do feel the same why haven’t you said anything. He eventually gave up for the night. He knew he had to see you tomorrow at the rehearsal dinner, surely you would not ignore him there.
But that’s exactly what you did. You were a few minutes early, hoping to find something to distract yourself with by the time Bucky or Steve arrived. But as you rounded the corner of the pristine cathedral you literally ran into Bucky. You smacked against his chest and fell back, you held your breath as his eyes met yours.
“Hi.” He whispered
You smile and quickly walk off before he can speak again. He sighed quietly, he knew this was now going to be harder than he thought. Once everyone else arrived, you all sat in the pews waiting for instruction from the wedding director.
You stayed very close to Nat but could still feel the eyes of Bucky on you, constantly.
Your refusal to look at him broke his heart. You thought he was mad and he thought you were mad, and the game of miscommunication between you two continued. Nat noticed the strange tension between the two of you and confronted you about it as you guys awaited directions.
You acted innocent, claiming nothing was going on and before she could confront Bucky, the wedding director started giving instructions. You were quick to realize that one person was missing as you all began to line up.
“Oh, shit, yeah, Steve can’t make it tonight. Something with a new contract.” Sam said out loud as if he was reading your mind.
“Sam, we are in a church! Watch your mouth!” His mom quickly reminded him and everyone chuckled to themselves.
“What the fu— what do you mean he’s not coming? He has to be here. It’s rehearsal!” Nat begins to freak out.
You are quick to comfort your best friend and calm her down. Of course, Steve wouldn’t come to this.
New contract? More like he’s too busy fucking his new toy. You reassure Nat that it will be OK, Steve won’t ruin her big day, you will make sure of it. She thanks you and the rehearsal moves on.
As you all take your places you realize that because Steve isn’t here you don’t have a walking partner. You attempt to ask Nat but once again as if Sam was inside of your mind he shouted towards Bucky.
“Hey man you gotta fill in for Steve, so you will walk with Y/N”
Your eyes widen and you glance towards Bucky to see his reaction, his eyes meet yours and he gave you a soft smile.
You were utterly confused. Is he not mad at you? Is he not fucking furious?
The rehearsal begins, you all walk down by yourselves, thankfully you will only have to walk with Bucky once, and then you can hurry away from him. The less time being forced into an awkward tension with him, the better. The time comes for the wedding party to file out and you and Bucky both begin walking towards each other and turn, linking arms just like everyone else. His touch is warm and comforting…like always.
He places a hand on top of yours and you immediately look down at your feet as you two begin walking down the long aisle. Of fucking course, Nat would get married in Saint Patricks Cathedral… you know the biggest church in the United States.
Time feels like it's frozen as you two continue your stroll. You pray that he would say something. Break the tension between the two of you. Just let things be normal. But alas he stays quiet…so you take matters into your own hands.
“Are you going to ignore me forever?” You whisper
“I’m not ignoring you, I believe you are ignoring me.” He retorts.
You let out a small sigh and you feel him look down at you. You look at him meeting his gaze. You feel your breath caught in your throat as he stares down at you, his eyes full of an emotion you can’t read. You begin to speak but he reverts his eyes back to looking straight ahead.
Your heart sank as his silence was deafening, you didn’t want to go on like this.
“I think we should talk.” He finally says.
“Not here,” you say as you two break away from each other.
“Alright. Come with me back to my place,”
“No, I can’t. I have to —“
“You’re the one who called me all day yesterday, now I want to talk and you don’t want to? Fucking ridiculous.” He scoffs.
“Buck, I want to talk, but I have to go back to Nat’s.” You explain.
He turns to walk away and you stop him.
“Would you please just listen to me? I am sorry about the other night, I didn’t mean anything I said.”
He spins around and you swear the look in his eye could kill.
“Anything? You didn’t mean a single word?” He questions.
“No. Of course not, I was drunk and I should’ve just called an Uber.” You plead with him to listen to you.
“If you think I am fucking pissed that you called me instead of an uber if you think that I —“ He stops himself.
“Let’s just drop this. Alright? I have nothing more to say. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His words shatter your heart. He pulls away from your grip and storms off. He waves to Nat and Sam as he leaves, he turns around to look at you and shakes his head.
As if he was saying he was disappointed in him and disappointed in you.
He knew you didn’t feel the same, he can’t believe he allowed himself to think that there may be a chance, there may have been a chance.
You feel the tears collecting in your eyes. He’s fucking leaving tomorrow for London, you can’t let your relationship end like this. You can’t continue this bullshit any longer. You run-pass Nat as you try to catch up to Bucky but he’s already gone once you’re outside.
Nat comes out to find you, seeing the tears in your eyes,
“Is everything okay?” She asks.
You spin around and she can tell by your look it’s not. As if she could read your mind, she could tell you were dying on the inside. She could tell you were so tired of the game, you were so tired of the silence and miscommunication. You were so tired of always missing your chance with Bucky. She walks over to you and wraps you into a hug.
She pulls away and whispers,
“Go. Tell him. You’ve gotta tell him.”
You have no words, she knew you better than you knew yourself. You knew she was right. You knew you had to do this now. So, just like that, you were off. You refuse to let your relationship end over this bullshit argument, you refuse to let your relationship end without telling him the truth, you refuse to let him leave you now that you’ve finally realized you are so fucking in love with him. You jump into a cab and give the driver his address.
You held your breath the entire way there, praying he listens to you, praying he forgives you, praying he feels the same way about you.
You run up to his apartment and fling open the door knowing he always leaves it unlocked, like an idiot.
“Hello?” You waltz into his kitchen as if you live there.
You throw your bag down and glare at him. He is cooking something as he continues to chop vegetables, refusing to look up at you.
“Just make yourself at home,” his sarcastic Brooklyn accent forces you to roll your eyes.
“We need to talk,” You state.
“I tried to talk to you. You didn’t want to talk.” He responds once more without looking up. You feel your blood starting to boil.
“Okay, well, forgive me for not wanting to have this conversation in front of all our friends. Forgive me for trying to talk to you yesterday and you ignore me all fucking day!”
He stays silent.
“You know I am the one who should be ignoring you! Waiting until the last fucking minute to tell me you’re leaving? Really, Buck?” Your voice is shakier than you want it to be but you can’t help it.
You’re fucking pissed.
Bucky continues his silence as he turns to grab more ingredients from the fridge.
“Oh for fuck's sake, are you seriously this mad about the other night? I told you I am sorry. I told you I didn’t mean a single fucking word.”
“See, that’s where I don’t believe you.” He says as he continues chopping a vegetable, still refusing to look at you.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You fire back.
He doesn’t answer.
“James!” You yell.
He finally looks up at you now that you’ve used his first name. His jaw clenched as his grip around the knife tightens. You two stare at each other, and you feel yourself getting more and more annoyed with each second.
“Would you just fucking —“
“Jesus, you asked me why I didn’t go to that damn game and I’ve been thinking about it every fucking minute since you asked.” He slams the knife down and glares up at you.
“Oh Jesus, Buck, I was drunk and I was pissed. You just told me you were leaving. I was mad. You told me to get mad, so I did!” You roll your eyes and shake him off.
“No, oh no, don’t you use that excuse. I’m not as dumb as your boyfriend, you can’t fool me. Tell me why you asked, now.”
You stand back stunned. You remember the conversation from the other night clearly but you figured Bucky ignored it. You feel your heart starting to beat rapidly.
Is this it? Is this going to be the moment it all comes out? The moment you’ve been scared of…yet craved for years?
“Answer me! Fuck.” His voice startles you.
Bucky has never spoken to you this way. He’s never challenged you this way. You knew he was mad, but this? You don’t recognize this man.
Your anger from last night begins to build once more. You could feel the tears coming. You could feel how red your face was turning. You have never felt so angry yet sad at the same time. It was all coming out, your true feelings, the way you’ve felt for three fucking years. His continued death glare made something inside of you snap,
“I was supposed to meet you! Not him! It was supposed to be you! Not fucking him.” You fire back the same words you used on him the other night. This time with more anger. More hurt.
“I know that! I fucking know that. You think I don’t know that?” He yells back.
He stares at you intently before he speaks once more. He notices how uncomfortable he’s made you by yelling and he hates it but fuck is he angry. He wants to shake you and tell you he loves you but you’re making it so damn difficult.
“How long have you held this against me? If I knew-“
“If you knew what?” You interrupt
“Shit — if I knew it was going to be you! If I fucking knew you were it... that you were going to be the one, I would’ve gone and this,” he gestures towards you and him
“... would be a completely different situation.”
You shake your head at his answer. You can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. You’re angry and upset.
He decides to tell you this now?
He’s clearly regretted this since the day it happens yet he’s kept it inside this entire fucking time. Yeah, you’ve done the same thing but shit! He could’ve told you and this would’ve been resolved so much sooner.
“Oh bullshit, Bucky! You did know. You knew we were being set up. You knew everyone kept telling you how perfect we were for each other. But you were so fucking scared that I was going to break your heart you didn’t even give me a chance, so you sent your best fucking friend to deal with me. Now look.” You use his gesture against him.
You two stare at each other. Chests heaving from the shouting match that’s been going on for minutes. Your nostrils are flaring from how angry you are. His jaw is clenched from how angry he is. You realize you shouldn’t have come. This isn’t the situation you wanted. You wanted to tell him how you feel, you wanted him to tell you he felt the same.
But you two are just too fucking angry at each other to continue this conversation…to continue this relationship. You to turn to leave, as this was clearly the wrong idea.
“Don’t you dare go towards that fucking door.” He growls.
“Why did you stopped Steve from proposing, huh?” You spin around and point a finger at him.
You watch as your words force him to step back from the kitchen island, his clenched jaw and shocked facial expression make you question yourself.
“He told me what you did, he told me you stopped him from proposing. Why did you do that?” You ask.
He was speechless. Utterly speechless. He had no idea what to say. He had no idea how to respond. He watches as a lone tear falls down your face, he can’t stand that he’s done this to you, he can’t stand the idea of lying to you anymore.
“Fuck — I fucked up by not coming to that damn game and I’ve had to deal with it for three years. I’ve had to deal with these feelings for three fucking years. I’ve had to watch you love my best friend for three fucking years. I couldn’t stand the idea of him marrying you, I couldn’t fucking stand it. So I just told him I didn’t think it was a good idea, I didn’t think he’d fucking listen to me. I just… I couldn’t. I couldn’t watch you marry someone else. Not you. Not the girl I love.”
...the girl I love...
You can’t believe it.
He steps around the kitchen island, slowly making his way towards you. Your heart begins to race. You swear if you two weren’t shouting the sound of the rapid beats would be loud enough to echo through the room. He takes a few more steps towards you, only allowing a few feet to distance the two of you.
“I want you to tell me... Tell me it's not just me and that you feel it too.” He whispers
“Buck — I —“
“For fuck's sake, Y/N. Just tell me you feel the same. Just admit it.”
“I— I don’t know.” You quiver. The use of your full name takes you back. He rarely refers to you this way.
“No! No more pretending. No more avoiding it. No more fucking excuses. Fucking tell me, or I am going to lose my mind —“
“Of course I fucking do!” The overwhelming confidence in your answer surprises both of you.
“You think I don’t wish every fucking day that it was you instead of him? That you came to that fucking game instead of him? That I get to love you instead of him? Fuck, James. It should’ve been you.”
The last four words get caught in your throat and come out more so in a croak than a matter-of-fact statement. You hate how desperate you sound. How defeated you sound.
You stare at him as tears begin to fill your eyes. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You couldn’t pretend. You couldn’t lie. You love him. God, you love him. You’ve known this. You’ve known you’ve loved him more than you should. But you hid it behind the fact he was your friend, your boyfriend's best friend, and you loved him for that. You loved him for always being there for you. For always saying the right thing. For always making you feel the way your boyfriend never could.
Bucky can’t believe your words. He always imagined this situation. Fantasized about it even. You would somehow admit mutual feelings and he’d make the move on you right then and right there. He’d kiss you so passionately you’d be gasping for air like a little kid when they swallow too much water in a swimming pool. He’d show you how much he loves you. How much he adores you. How much he’s wanted you since the second he saw you. But he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed by your words. It was at that moment he realized he was completely powerless when it comes to you. He always has been. Not with any other woman. Only you. It’s always been you. Even in a moment when you admit your love for him, you have complete control over him…and he loves it.
You watch as Bucky’s face contorts, trying to understand what you said, trying to take it all in. For a second you worry that you said too much. Fuck — of course, you did, you admitted everything to him. You attempt to speak once more and save yourself but with two large strides, he has you pushed up against the kitchen wall. He stares into your eyes, trying to find any doubt, trying to see if you were just telling him what he wanted to hear. No words are exchanged, just glances, and the sound of breathing as you both are trying to control your fast-beating hearts. You were so enthralled by the moment you didn’t even notice the deathly grip he had on your hips. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, trying anything to control your breathing, and your want, no, your need, for his lips on yours. Bucky lets out a small sigh as you do one of the things that make his knees weak.
“I hate when you do that.” He whispers.
“Hate when I do what?” You question innocently.
“That. With your lip. You bite down on it and I swear to fuck —“
Within seconds you wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him down into you. You don’t give him a moment to realize what’s happening as you slam your lips into his in a hungry kiss. Your fingers slide through his brown curls as his lips finally meet yours and the feeling was like no other. His one hand remained on your hip as his other bunched up in your hair, making it a messy nest within the grip of his fist. His tongue traced the opening of your lips and you moaned quietly as it slipped past your lips.
The noise trigged something animalistic inside of Bucky and he pressed you further against the wall, his hand falling from your hair to grip your other hip. You rocked your body against him and that only triggered a more passionate and steamy kiss. His lips quickly left yours, allowing yourself a quick breath as his lips darted down towards your jaw and collarbone. You tilted your head back further, allowing him just enough access, his touch filled your body with chills as his hot breath on your skin was enough to make you dizzy.
Bucky simply couldn’t get enough of you. He couldn’t believe you loved him just as much as he loved you, three years later, he finally gets to kiss you the way he’s always wanted to. He loved how responsive you were. As he continues kissing down your neck, you softly moan his name and God was that sound better than he dreamed. There is so much more he wants to do to you but he knows he must go slow, he has to make sure this is what you want, that he is what you want. After minutes of your intense make-out, your kisses turned into soft and sweet pecks, silent sighs of happiness escaping both of you.
He leans his forehead against yours and you two stay there silently. You worry that he regrets what just happened and before you pull away he grabs your face with both of his hands. He lifts your gaze to his and smiles.
“It’s always been you, Y/N/N. Always. I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”
A tear escapes your eye and falls down your cheek, he is quick to wipe it away and looks at you with worry.
“It’s always been you, too.” You whisper.
He lets out a sigh of relief and smiles down at you, still cusping your face in his hands. But the realization hits you both. What are you going to do?
You could tell he was overthinking something so you pulled him down to you once more, this time the kiss was slow and sweet like you were trying to savor every ounce of him. His lips felt like they were made for yours. They fit together perfectly, you could only imagine how the rest of his body was going to feel.
He pulls away and smiles, he isn’t quite sure if he is ever going to get over that feeling, that one he’s longed for, for so long.
“You’re it, Barnes. You are it. I love you.”
He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you into his embrace. God, he’s imagined this scenario so many times. He always imagined it would be him saying those words first, but they sounded so much better coming from your lips.
“I love you, so fucking much. I am so in love with you. God, I’ve wanted you for so long. I’ve loved you for so long.” He whispers into your ear.
“…and now I am fucking leaving —“
“Hey, we are going to figure this out okay? I finally have you, we are going to make this work, whatever we do.” You smile as you run your hand over his cheek.
“Three years is enough to keep us apart, there will be nothing else, okay?” You whisper.
He smiles and nods, leaning down to capture your kiss once more.
You want nothing more than to continue this night but you know you needed to get back to Nat. You will have more time with Bucky, you knew that, but you couldn’t help continuing the kiss, wanting to feel all of him. As your tongue slips past his lips, his hands grip around your waist and lift you up. You wrap your legs around him, feeling his hard-on and you moan softly.
“Fuck, I’ve dreamt of those sounds.” He grunts.
He carries you to the kitchen island and places you down, his lips moving to your neck as he licks the line of your collarbone. You whimper as he continues to gently kiss and bite down on your soft skin. You can’t manage to form a sentence as his lips continue to move around your neck.
“I n-need you.” You mutter.
“I’m right here, doll.” He smirks against your skin.
“Buck, please.” You moan as his hands' fumble with the hem of your dress.
“Whatever you want, sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your lips and carries you to the bedroom.
You wake up to a familiar ceiling. Not familiar in the way you’ve woken up to it before but familiar in the way that you’ve always been meant to wake up and stare at this ceiling.
As your senses slowly come to you you realize that everything about this feels…familiar. The smell...his smell, the low buzzing sound from the cars outside, and then you glance over eft and there he is in all his glory. His usually well-kept brown locks were a mess. His mouth is slightly ajar as he lets out soft snores. He’s laying on his stomach with one hand snuck underneath the pillow, the other lazily wrapped around you.
The feeling of his skin against yours brings back all the memories of the night before. It was slow. From beginning to end. It wasn’t like how you expected it at all. You figured it would be quick and messy and desperate. You imagined it so many times but never the way it actually played out. He was slow. Delicate even. He took his sweet time with you, from the hallway to his bedroom. You felt as if time stopped like it was allowing you two to spend this infinite amount of time together since you’ve both craved it for so long. Everything was precise and beautiful. His lips explored your entire body as your hands explored his.
Last night floods your memory as you try to remember how he felt, your body tingles as you remember how slow he was. You try to remember it all but then it hits you…the one moment of pure bliss. You remember opening your eyes to his…and the look in his eyes caused you to gasp out loud. It was this look of so much love. It was something you’ve never experienced before. Something you never thought you would experience.
You remember no words were said between the two of you last night. The only sounds were the whimpers and moans escaping from your mouth and the grunts and low hums from his.
You fell into his arms once you two had finally exhausted yourselves enough. Once again, no words were exchanged…just the sound of you both trying to catch your breath. You drifted to sleep as your mind entered into the most peaceful state, but then three words were finally spoken. They were in a low whisper. So low you weren’t supposed to hear them but you did.
“I love you.”
You whisper them back to him now as he continues to snooze. It was only fair.
You then lean down to kiss his forehead and as you pull away you are met with his sleepy eyes.
“Hi.” He whispers
“I have to go,” you say back.
He nods his head and leans up to capture your lips. you can’t remember how many times you two kissed last night yet it still feels like the first every time. He pulls away with a smile and you giggle.
“‘I’ll see you at the wedding, doll.”
a/n:...it’s HERE!!!! ah omg. this is quite literally my favorite thing I've ever written! here’s to hoping you liked it <3
taglist: @folklorelake | @wintersoldierwincest |@yarnforbrains | @buckysswinter | @capmanranger | @angstysebfan | @theokatz | @lilli2411 | @maladaptivexxdaydreaming | @bqnners | @everythingiloveandcherish | @whore4buckybarness | @nameless-ken | @onlyjamesbuchanbarnes | @mrsbarnesx | @danielle-leah1997 | @megthedreamer21 | @enchantedbarnes | @vicmc624 | @agni-l | @ajeff855 | @prepetually-exhausted-and-tired | @dancer3205 | @stucky-my-ship | @inhumanwithpowers | @bandimarie | @harrystylesandthegoobs | @annejackson10-blog | @mutifandomkid | @spaaceprincesss | @baby-banana | @xxbuckysbxx | @arikarapli | @rslizj | @ginger-swag-rapunzel | @hoe-4-sebstan | @happyt0exist
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funnel fries ~ bucky barnes
Summary: Wanda is convinced that Bucky is in love with Y/N, and will stop at nothing to prove it.
Warnings: Language? I think that’s it.
Word Count: 1.4+ k
A/N: Hope you enjoy! I frankly love jealous Bucky. Please please please like and reblog! Always feel free to submit a request in my messages!
"You're blind," Wanda commented, throwing the insult over her shoulder at you as you closed your laptop. You looked up at her with feigned offense, sighing, "Excuse me, that's-" she cut you off with the blender as she ground up greens for her daily poison- smoothie- whatever. "Rude," you muttered, sticking your tongue out. She raised her middle finger without a word. When she finished her smoothie, she poured it into a cup, downing the mixture in one gulp. "Ahhhh, so refreshing," she said as she watched you stick leftover funnel fries in your mouth.
"Are those Bucky's?" she raised an eyebrow. "No," you muttered. She stared at you pointedly before you gave in, "Okay, they used to be. But they're mine now." "Does he know?" she asked. You shook your head quickly, shoving another of the delicious heaven sent fries in your mouth. Wanda rolled her eyes. "He wouldn't care, considering he's in-" "Shut up!" you whined. "Don't get my hopes up."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "I bet that I can get him to ask you out." You retorted, "I bet you can't." She scoffed, "Twenty bucks?" You crossed your arms with a snort, "Thirty." "Fine," Wanda sniffed. "I need to go call in a favor." She quickly waltzed away out of the kitchen toward the dorms. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your funnel fries. "Are those my funnel fries?" a gruff voice asked from behind you. You whirled around, faced with an amused Bucky. "Geez, Barnes," you pressed a hand to your heart. "Give a girl a warning before you scare her half to death." "Only half?" he mocked. "Only half," you repeated. "So about my question," he raised an eyebrow. "No," you smiled cheekily. "They're mine." "Since when?" he frowned, though you could tell he was joking.
Before you could respond, Wanda skipped back in. "Hey, Y/N!" she sing-songed. "Let's get you ready?" "For what?" you asked, confused. "For your date," she said as if it was obvious. "Oh, right," you said with a nervous chuckle. "I forgot about that." Bucky raised an eyebrow, "With who?" An audible crunch from where his metal hand crunched the countertop made Wanda waggle her eyebrows. "Uh, it's not important," you said quickly, as you didn't have any idea what Wanda was really up to. "She's going out with Sam," Wanda said with a laugh. "But she doesn't want anyone to know, so keep it a secret!"
You saw the slight betrayed look on Bucky's face. You brushed it off, though. He was probably worried about two Avengers dating; that was all. "Don't worry, Buck," you laughed, punching his arm lightly. "We'll be safe." You had caught onto Wanda's scheme a little, at least you thought you had from the gleeful look on her face. Bucky's clenched even tighter on the counter, causing a piece to crumble off. He looked at it, surprised. Then he stormed out of the kitchen, trying not to look suspicious.
Wanda turned to you with an 'I told you so' look on her face. Still, you waved your hand, repeating your excuse about him not wanting two Avengers to date. She scoffed. "Uh, me and Vision?" You shrugged, "That's different." She rolled her eyes and pulled you down the dorm hall. "Let's get you ready." You looked at her, surprised, as she sat you down at her vanity. "I'm actually going on a date with Sam?" "No!" Wanda chuckled. "He isn't even awake. He's taking a nap." You rolled your eyes, "And if Bucky tries to ask him about it?" Wanda laughed, "He'll get murdered for interrupting his nap before he can ask.” You shrugged, knowing that was true.
You’d made that mistake before, knocking on Sam’s door to ask his advice on a dress while he was trying to fall asleep. He’d threatened you within an inch of your life before realizing it was just you, and you really weren’t bothering him that much. Still, he’d been slightly frightening. He’d only actually hurt the guys though; chivalry wasn’t dead in the compound. Accentuated by the fact that Bucky hadn’t taken his fries back, which was why you pulled them from behind your back when Wanda turned to find something. She turned back around with a bodycon dress, causing you to scoff, "Thought you said I wasn't going to go on a date with Sam." "You aren't," she smirked. "I'm getting your outfit ready for your date with Bucky." "This isn't even gonna work," you groaned. "He doesn't like me like that."
Wanda commented on the broken counter, causing you to scowl. You really didn't want to get your hopes destroyed, and you were used to guys doing just that. In the past year, you’d been on blind dates with a HYDRA agent, a mime, a schizophrenic, and others. They were all set up by Wanda herself, leading you to question her matchmaking skills. Of course, she was just trying to help, which is why once she found out you liked Bucky, she was set on helping you score a date. Still, though you appreciated the sentiment, you weren’t exactly hopeful. If anything, her schemes might scare Bucky away.
Wanda shoved the dress in your arms, telling you to shut up and get changed. You rolled your eyes, grabbing the purple, silky material and going into the bathroom. “Sam’ll go with you if I say there will be food!” she called. “We can fake the date!” You chuckled, “Don’t get killed.” She shrugged, “I won’t.” You watched her strawberry blonde locks disappear around the corner, and then, as you relaxed, heard a loud, “Oh, SHIT.” With a groan, you exited the bathroom and joined her in the hall, eyes widening when you saw the scene in front of you. Bucky had a black eye, most likely from Sam in his ‘you interrupted my nap’ rage, and Sam had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone. Bucky was whisper-shouting something about a date- oh fuck- and Sam was asking him what the hell he was talking about. You tried to shrink behind Wanda, but they both looked up and saw you. Almost immediately, Sam started groggily yelling, “What is he even talking about? He says I’m going on a date with Y/N? Did I miss something?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at Wanda. “What’s going on, Maximoff?” She blushed sheepishly, whipping her head around to look at you, as if asking you to explain.
You raised your hands, “It was all Wanda! I had no idea what she was doing!” Bucky groaned, “Tell the fucking truth.” Wanda shrugged mutely, then finally sighing to speak up; “Okay, fine, it was my idea. But Y/N was on board!” You looked at her with a betrayed look. “But what was the point?” Bucky growled, looking back and forth between you, Sam just half awake, groggy and grumpy in the corner. Wanda looked over at you, then looked back at the brunette, and said, “I was proving that you were in love with Y/N as much as she was in love with you,” she said matter-of-factly. Your jaw dropped, red filling your cheeks, the same expression mirrored on Bucky’s face. “I- what?” he said. You sighed, “Buck…” He looked at you, searching your eyes for something. You stared back into his eyes, taking a step closer as he did the same. “You- you like me?” he said in a whisper. You nodded, too nervous to do anything else. You’d have a talk with Wanda later about blurting out secrets like that. But now, you were too focused on the fact that Bucky was lowering his lips to yours, so close, an inch away, so close, so close…
His lips brushed yours, and it was like a roomful of fireworks went off inside your belly. You were immediately pulling each other closer, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue swept your bottom lip. The coil in your core continued to tighten as you tugged him even closer, his metal arm wrapping around your waist to rest your hips against his. You faintly heard Sam say he was leaving, and Wanda seconding him, but you were too focused on the taste of Bucky’s lips to think of anything else. Finally, you pulled away, breathless, resting your head on his chest. The only sound in the otherwise empty hallway were the heavy breaths you both were taking, your eyes closed as you breathed in his earthy scent. “You taste like funnel fries,” he mumbled. You giggled.
All of a sudden, you were hyper aware of the other Avengers peeking from corners as they smirked at you both. With a slightly embarrassed smile, you laced your fingers through Bucky’s and pulled him into your bedroom, away from prying eyes.
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Ooo okay how about Bucky and reader having the biggest crushes on each other, but Bucky's already in a relationship (because he thinks that he has no chance with them) and reader thinks that means he doesn't like them back... idk 😅
oh... I like this one... This might be a 2 parter... but we will see!!!
When Things Are Left Unsaid
You sit in the common room with you friends, enjoying a relaxing day off. You all decided that every once in awhile you would invite your friends/family over and have a BBQ together. Unfortunately it rained today, so it was moved inside, but it still worked. You are currently sitting on the couch between Steve and Nat, and occasional look over into the kitchen where you see Bucky and his girlfriend, Jessica.
Every time you see Bucky smile softly or whisper in her ear, or kiss her, your heart breaks more and more. Bucky and you are best friends. He confided in you a lot when he first arrived, and said you made him comfortable because you would never judge him. As time went on, you started to grow feelings for the blue eyed super soldier, but out of fear of rejection, kept your damn mouth shut.
When Bucky introduced you to Jessica, who was your complete opposite in every way, though nice enough, you were glad you kept your mouth shut. Bucky obviously didn’t want a girl like you. He wanted someone like her. When Jessica came into the picture, your moments with Bucky became far and few between. Now you pretty much only see him at these BBQs or on a mission. It’s not like he has pushed you away on purpose, just that he spends all his time with Jessica.
You hate Jessica.
Bucky stands in the kitchen making sure he can look into the common room while he continues to have a conversation about Jessica’s friends boyfriend or something like that, who might be proposing, or is proposing, or will never propose. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t even care. He looks out into the common room and sees you sitting on the couch with the smile, that makes him melt, on your face.
He longs to have that smile directed at him, but he hasn’t had that happen in awhile. He knows he hasn’t been spending as much time with you, and it kills him. You see, he is madly in love with you. You are the one that he wants to spend all of his time with, but because he was scared of being rejected, he never said anything.
He thought the only way to get over his undying love for you, would be to find someone else. Enter Jessica. She was sweet, beautiful, kind, and boring. He thought it was a perfect match. He needed someone to counteract the craziness that was his life. And while he enjoys his time with Jessica, he still yearns for you. Plus did I mention she was boring?
Bucky sees you get up from the couch and head down the hall. Without a second thought he excuses himself from Jessica, with a quick kiss on the cheek, and runs after you. He reaches you when you make it to the elevator.
“Where you headin’ Doll?” he asks with a smirk.
You gasp and grab your chest, “Jesus, warn someone next time. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack asshole!” you say, smacking him on his right arm.
Bucky laughs, “Sorry. Where you going?” he asks again.
“Oh, uh... I have a... a date to get ready for,” you say.
You don’t know why you are nervous, when Bucky has a girlfriend and doesn’t share your feelings. Meanwhile Bucky’s heart breaks a little. You were going to go out with someone else. What if you like him and start dating? What if you bring him around and he has to watch you both be together? What if you fall in love and get married?
You look at Bucky confused by his reaction. His smile disappeared and he looks... panicked.
“You alright Buck?” you ask.
Bucky nods, still not knowing what to say.
“Where... Why... Who is he?” Bucky asks.
You can’t help but scoff, getting annoyed by his reaction. Almost like he can’t believe you would get a date.
“Nat set us up. He’s nice. We’ve gone out a few times,” you say.
“I didn’t know this! This is usually something you tell your best friend,” Bucky snaps.
“Yea well I barely see my best friend anymore since he started dating someone else. What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask fully annoyed now.
“I just... I don’t want to lose you. As my friend. To some guy who will take up all your time,” Bucky says.
Your eyebrows shoot up, “I’m sorry, what time do you have for me anymore, James? We haven’t hung out in months. You are always with your girlfriend. I had to move on from you, and that is what I’m doing!” you yell, not catching your slip up.
“Move on from me?” Bucky asks surprised.
Your eyes widen in fear. You decide to forget the elevator and run toward the staircase and away from Bucky. Bucky watches after, wanting to follow, but stuck in this spot, stunned.
Move on from me? Does that mean you had feelings for me?
Definitely a 2 parter! Part 2 coming eventually. I probably could have made 1 long post... but I have a thing for cliffhangers. 👹
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Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes is in love.
Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of drugs
Word Count: 400 (Drabble)
A/n: I listened to the Florida Georgia Line song while writing this. Kinda cute or whateva. Hope you enjoy, and I love you all very much
Not tagging ‘cause it’s a Drabble.
Bucky Barnes is in love.
James Buchanan Barnes is madly in love.
And he’s not even going to try and deny it.
One hundred and some odd number of years, he’s been on this planet, and not once has he felt the kind of addictive love that he feels now.
Loving you is a drug, and he’s not even gonna try giving it up.
You’re sitting on Steve's couch, Natasha across from you and the blond plopped down beside her.
Bucky’s squished himself between your legs on the floor, head reclined as your fingers comb through his hair absentmindedly.
Your attention is on the conversation you’re having, but he doesn’t care. As long as you keep playing with his hair, everything will be fine.
He lets out a soft hum that sounds an awful lot like the way Alpine purrs when you pet her, and you can’t help but laugh softly.
You duck your head down and press a kiss to his forehead, grinning at the way he smiles.
The way his lips curve upward could light up the room, and it certainly brightens your day knowing that he’s smiling like that for you.
Because of you.
Your once broody, grumpy soldier is now a fluffy cuddly puppy, and you love it.
You love him.
Anyone can tell just how much the two of you mean to each other, but the people who know Bucky, who really truly know him, know that he’d quite possibly die without you.
He’s high on it.
Absolutely high on his love for you, and he loves it.
You’re like ecstasy to him, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
One of his hands darts up, grabbing your hand and pulling it down until his lips finally meet your skin.
He trails them over your fingertips, up to your palm, until he reaches the inside of your wrist.
There, he places kiss after gentle kiss, mouthing the three little words against your pulse.
You can feel them. Feel the whispered ‘I love you’s that he’s kissing into your skin, and you melt a little.
“I love you too,” you murmur, bringing your lips down to the crown of his head.
His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and Sam makes a comment about it, but he doesn’t care.
He’s in love.
So madly in love.
And he doesn't care who knows.
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We're Gonna Be Okay
Pairing: fatws!Bucky x Reader
Flufftober Prompt: Pillow Talk (Day 13)
Summary: It's Bucky's first night back from a two-month-long mission. Undoubtedly, the two of you spend it enjoying each other. And one thing both of you know is that you never want to be apart for that long again. There are hints at suggestive activities in this. Only hints. It's very soft overall.
Word Count: ~790
A/N: I saw this prompt and I really wanted to write something... so I did. And the story just so happened to steer itself in this direction. I hope you enjoy!
For the first time since he arrived home earlier that night, the room had grown quiet. As the two of you laid in bed, you watched the rise and fall of his chest in the dim lamplight. Each exhale was no more than a soft sound past his parted lips, but you held onto them as they rose into the air. They might as well have been music; undoubtedly void of a melody, but nonetheless a more subtle continuation of what had arisen between you as you lost yourselves in the depths of each other.
It had been two months since you’d seen him in person, touched him, been consumed by his entirety. One night wasn’t enough to make up for the desire and longing that had been cultivated in that time but, with God as your witness, the two of you had tried.
Bucky had yet to open his eyes as he continued to descend from the high that the two of you had reached.
They remained closed even as you tucked yourself more into his warmth, draping a leg over his and brushing your fingertips over the dusting of dark hair on his chest. If it was possible, it seemed as though he’d gotten stronger in the time he was overseas. There was a new solidness to his muscularity. You’d realized whenever you squeezed his biceps or dragged your nails down his back. And there was even more swiftness and ease to the way he’d guided and maneuvered your body as the two of you made love.
When your palm came to rest over Bucky’s heart, he spoke up.
“Never gonna be gone that long again.”
You studied his features for a few seconds. “We can only hope not.”
“No.” He opened his eyes and turned his head towards you. “M’gonna make sure. Already don’t like leaving you as it is,” he said.
“You don’t?” You were only teasing. Not for the fun of it, but because welcoming that sliver of lightheartedness soothed the dread that came along with the thought of being without him for that long again.
Bucky didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to rub your bare thigh beneath the sheets. His touch wasn’t featherlight as if seeking to provoke goosebumps. It was firm, consoling. You nuzzled your nose into his shoulder and breathed him in as if you’d never get enough. He smelled faintly of a warm musk. Like a forest somewhere where the sun was shining that you wanted to lose yourself within.
After a few moments feeling the gentle beats of his heart against your palm, you trailed your hand further down his torso, stopping just beneath his belly button. Your fingertips followed an invisible path as they graced the sensitive space between his hip bones. He shifted after a while.
“Tickles, babydoll,”' he murmured.
You stilled your hand and offered him a small smile as you looked up into his eyes. “Sorry.”
Perhaps you shouldn’t have looked up. It had become more evident that he was tired, but there was an intensity to his gaze that hadn’t been there before. Not the type that instilled fear, but the type that dared you to acknowledge it, that wanted you to. And because of it, you became all the more aware of the things you weren’t saying that existed within the silence between you. Namely, the fact that he’d been gone on a mission for a long time—a painfully long time—and there had yet to be boundaries set in place to ensure that didn’t happen again.
Everything weighed down all at once.
Tears pricked in your eyes. But they didn’t fall right away because you were thinking too hard. When they did, everything in your mind spilled out with them. And when you hid your face in Bucky’s chest in search of refuge, he let you; he was the one thing that you could see, touch, and smell to stay grounded within the bittersweet reality you had found yourself within. You loved him with everything that you had.
“I don’t like when you leave either,” you said, remembering his statement from earlier. Your voice came out smaller than you would’ve liked.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about losing me like that again,” he said. “We’re gonna be okay.”
You nodded as best you could, and met his gaze again. He used the pad of his thumb to wipe the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. And when he finished, you took his hand in yours and stared at his fingers, the lines of his palm. Then you brought it to your lips and kissed it right in the center.
We’re gonna be okay.
Thanks for reading! <3
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I feel like this is something beefy biker!bucky would rant to gorgeous about 🤣
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Smut, oral f receiving, thigh worship
All you said was that you didn't need another pair of thigh high socks. Next thing you know, Bucky's tossing you over his shoulder and stomping back to the bedroom.
He throws you on the bed, glaring at your bouncing body. Your mouth falls open in shock, trying to hold back your laugh. "Bucky," you breath out, amusement lacing your tone. "You can't claim my thighs too."
Without taking his eyes off you, he takes off his henley, slowly pulling his belt off "Watch me."
The challenge in his tone matches the look in his darkening eyes. Oh. God. Your thighs clench together and his tongue darts across his bottom lip, a flash of pink before his pearly white teeth sink into his lip.
"You see, Gorgeous, every part of you belongs to me." The possessiveness of his darkly spoken words sends a shiver down your frame, you want to whimper out that yes yes you belong to your tall, thick tattooed biker. "Your soul, your heart and your pretty body." He states, shoving his boxers down his muscular thighs.
Bucky grabs your ankle and pulls you down the bed until your ass is near the edge. He steps between your thighs, dropping to his knees. You lean on your elbows, looking down at him.
Bucky grips your thigh spreading them apart, his cold metal rings pressing into your skin, warm long fingers massaging you. "These thighs are going to kill me one day," he says with a smirk. "Do you know how perfect they are? Fucking works of art and all for me, so damn pretty." Bucky curves his hands around them, kissing along your skin. "Only one thing would make them even better."
And then he claims your thighs, nipping and sucking bruises along your skin. Muttering one word under his breath.
Mine, mine, mine.
He drops his head between them, inhaling your scent with a low raspy moan. "So wet for me gorgeous," Blue eyes flit up to yours, he loves when you watch him. Seeing you fall apart on his tongue is almost as good as when he's deep inside your tight little pussy.
His tongue, wet and pink and wide, tease your clit, tracing small patterns across it. Pleasure shoots through you, every long lick and sweep of his talented tongue combined with his deep kisses sends you spiraling higher and higher.
Bucky is addicted to you, each taste makes him want more and more until his face is buried in you, his moans vibrating through your sensitive pussy.
He lets your thighs go, his lips wrapping around your swollen clit, eyes still watching your face, memorizing every sigh and moan coming from your slack mouth.
And just as you're about to beg, he pulls you into his warm, wet mouth.
And you scream.
Your thighs clamp around his head, nails diggings into his scalp. Bucky can feel you pulsating under him, your warm thighs quivering around his head.
Fuck, he can spend all morning like this.
Listening to you chant his name like a sinful prayer, he decides he will.
He doesn't need breakfast, he has your sweet pussy to feast on and your soft thighs around his head.
You lose track of time after your third orgasm, sweaty and breathless on the bed. Bucky grinning at you like the cat who ate the canary, so damn smug. You're close to drifting off when you feel his hand close around your ankle. "Bucky, no I can't, I really mean it-"
Bucky stops you with a kiss. "I know, I know gorgeous. Go to sleep, I'm just decorating your thighs."
You glance down at your bruised skin, chuckling as he pulls the new pair of navy blue thigh-high socks up your legs one by one. "Perfect."
Bucky waits until you're sleeping to bring out the rest of the bags he hid in the garage. He stuffs more socks and matching panties into your already full drawers. "Dont tell me I can't buy you things," he laughs, looking over his shoulder at you. "I'll get you the damn sun if you asked me too."
After tossing the bags in the trash, he looks around the garage. Rubbing the back of his neck, he has so much to do this weekend. But you're upstairs. And Bucky would rather be with you than work on his bike right now.
His feet move faster than his brain, all his instincts pulling him back to you and soon he's in the room. Kissing your forehead, he lays beside you, one hand behind his head, the other on your thigh.
Yeah, he can definitely spend all morning like this.
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Take A Little Time
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: It's not always just fucking. Is it?
Warnings: Light smut, some feels and self doubt. 18+ as always.
Word Count: 234
A/N: Been away for a while. Be kind. Thought I'd dip my toe back in by participating in The Eleven Sentence Challenge, hosted by @cockslut-padalecki. Thanks for inspiring me, babe. First prompt of many I chose was "Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough." 💜
Bucky Barnes fucks hard - that much is for sure, and you can ask any one of the women he's had laid out beneath him like this, crumbling at the sensation of his hands on their skin, begging him for all and anything he's willing to give.
But the more he fucks you, the more he finds himself wrapped up in you, your soft body completely at the mercy of his touch? The more it feels like something sweeter than that.
"Fuck," he whispers, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his cock milking your walls for everything they've got.
“Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough," you ask him, your lust and frustration evident from the way you stare at him.
He hadn't noticed, in all honesty. He hadn't realised just how much softer he found himself wanting to be with you, hadn't accepted the fact that he felt like he could be vulnerable with you.
For the first time since you began warming his lonely bed at night, Bucky finds himself questioning it all - whether or not he misread the signals, wondering if it's his company or the things his body can do that have you coming back for more.
"You don't like it when I take my time like this?" Bucky whispers, his lips dragging against your collarbone, hips undulating against yours, and his length tending to the soft spot inside your cunt. "You'll be beggin' me to go easy on you in about ten minutes, Kitten."
A/N: I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
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#RampitUp1Kinktober Day 14
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader
Summary: Bucky smashed and dashed and now you want to smash in his skull. Will you give him another chance?
1Kinktober Kink: Creampie
Word Count 2.2K
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk, smash and dash, anger, pining, jealousy, mention of sex toy, online dating, a lil bit of knife play, a lil bit of stalking, lol bit of dub con, creampie, cum play, oral (f receiving) fluff. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.
This occurs in the time gap within Always between strip poker and the wedding. It’s also in the same AU as Validation.
A/N: This is for the 14th DAY of #rampitup1Kinktober! TYSM for following me! 🧡
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
After the strip poker game, and the night you two shared, Bucky had regrets.
You really were Steve’s girl and he had no rights. And you were too good for him anyway. But damn, he sure did feel good when he was with you. And fucking you did not make him get over his infatuation.
He was pretty sure he was in love.
So of course he tried to push you away. He was going to try and make you realize that you were his, even if you didn’t love him.
When you woke up the next morning, you weren’t really surprised that Bucky was gone not just from your bed, but from the Tower. But you were pissed.
You were tired of these damn super soldiers leaving you. You had something for James Barnes’ ass.
Bucky went halfway around the world and still couldn’t get away from you. Your taste, your touch, your smell was with him even in his dreams. And that was a vast improvement. He realized that he just threw away his one chance at happiness. He headed back to NYC, and you, after ten days of trying to forget you.
F.R.I.D.A.Y. let you know when Bucky landed, so you were ready for him.
Nat was talking to him as you walked into the common room.
You greeted him “Oh, hello Barnes. Didn’t realize you’d left.”
You breezed past him and Bucky knew this would be an uphill battle.
“Yeah, I needed time to… think.”
His eyes tried to capture yours but you were giving him no play.
“Must be hard for you, so I see why you needed space.”
You went over to Nat and motioned to the box, promptly ignoring Bucky.
You waved the small box around and Nat’s eyes lit up.
“Ohhh! Let’s see.”
You looked at Bucky as if you didn’t want him to know.
Nat lowered her voice. “Oh, don’t mind him.”
“I guess you’re right. He wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
You opened the package and showed Nat.
“It’s from PinkCherry. It’s a clit flicker.”
Nat grinned at you and nodded her head at Bucky.
“Oh, he probably can’t even hear us, you know, old men lose their hearing, among other things.”
You and Nat giggled and you couldn’t help but notice Bucky’s jaw clench.
“Okay. But I thought you had that date with the guy you met online.”
“I do. Tomorrow. But I figured I needed a machine that worked to take care of me in the meantime. You can’t trust men for shit.”
Bucky took off his glove at that moment and the vibranium shined in the afternoon light. You cleared your throat, and your mind, of the memory of what that appendage could do.
“Don’t let what Steve did affect your opinion of everyone, love.”
“Oh, I don’t have a negative opinion of everyone. Just super soldiers.”
Nat laughed and cut her eyes at Bucky. He was looking out of the window, steam rising from his head. Him being in the room for this conversation was not lost on her.
“We can talk later, I have a debriefing right now.”
Nat left you and Bucky alone in the common room. You gathered your box and moved to leave when Bucky caught your arm.
“Get the fuck off me James.”
Bucky let go of you.
“Are you going to tell me that you’d rather a toy get you off than me?”
He was trying to summon his 80 year old cool, but it didn’t look like it worked.
You gave a good front, because your clit was actually screaming that she wanted Bucky, not some toy. But right now you’d be damned if you let him hurt you.
“What I’m going to tell you is that I’m not interested in you getting me off like some casual jump off and then leaving without saying goodbye. I don’t have time for games.”
You stalked off down the hallway, pissed at your reaction. Damn him.
The next night, you put your best freakum dress and made your way to the restaurant that you were going to meet the guy you met on the dating app, Will.
You booked a room upstairs, just in case. You wanted to try a regular guy for once. You wanted a nice, normal, fucked up personal life with a nice, normal, fucked up person.
Will was cute, corny, but nice, and you were having fun with him on the dance floor. You were trying to give it to him and he seemed to begin to know what to do with it.
Bucky watched you from the bar. He was seething. He couldn’t believe that you were letting this fella believe that he had a chance with you. He felt so bad for the guy that he decided to let him live.
Your watch flashed the comms signal, and you excused yourself, thinking there was an emergency at the tower. As you went to the restroom to call, a hand reached out and grabbed you. You fought until you turned around to see who your attacker was.
“Bucky? What the fuck? What are you doing?”
“The question is, what are you doing, Doll?” His face looked wrecked. You almost didn’t care.
“Wait. Did you just ping my watch? I’m so done with you James.”
Bucky grabbed your hand again and you pointed one of his own knives at his neck. You’d taken it off him in the scuffle.
He put his hands up and backed up against the wall. He loved you even more as you threatened his life.
You pressed the tip to his skin until a small bead of blood appeared. You stared at it, wanting to lick it off his skin. Your eyes flicked up to his.
“You left without saying a word. I'm actually glad that you showed me who you were before I got in too deep. You’re just like your bestie. You can go to wherever he is.”
You pressed the knife a little deeper.
Bucky knew exactly who you were talking about. He who must not be named.
“I’m not Steve, Doll. The only way you’re rid of me is if you leave me.”
Bucky’s hand came up slowly and took the knife from you as tears welled in your eyes.
“Let’s go up to your room and I’ll show you who I am. And then I’ll leave you alone if you want. I promise.”
You shook your head.
“Your promises don’t mean shit, James.”
You turned and started back down the hallway toward the dance floor. You stopped and turned and looked over your shoulder.
“You coming or not?”
In the room, you sat down on the bed, crossing your legs and arms, beautiful thighs on display. You made him harder than staring at your turned back and ass in the elevator when you refused to look at him.
“You have 10 minutes. I have a date.”
“Oh, you mean William? He’s gone. Sudden flood in his apartment.”
You glared at him.
“You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“Not too much of an asshole, because he’s still alive, but an asshole nonetheless. And that’s part of the reason why I left. I’m an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. But I want you. So now what?”
You stood up, anger rippling through you.
“Is that it? Is that your big speech to win me back? You don’t get everything you want. You’ve got to come with more than that.”
Bucky stepped toward you, invading your space like you didn’t realize you wanted him to since he got back.
“It’s all I got, Doll. Oh, and the fact that I love you.”
You opened and then closed your mouth, looking at him incredulously.
While your head was spinning, Bucky reached out with his metal arm and pulled you to him. He slid it down your waist to your ass, where it started whirring as he rubbed it and moved it around to the front of your dress, inching it up with his fingers as his palm vibrated against your pussy.
“Did I hear you say you needed a machine to work your clit?”
‘Yes! Oh yes,’ you said in your head, but out of your mouth came, “I hate you, Bucky.”
You murmured it in that sexy, needy way that set him on fire. And then your eyes rolled back as his heated metal fingers slipped into your panties and whirred at just the right frequency to get you off quickly and efficiently. He muffled your cries with a kiss.
God you loved how he handled you.
“I love the way you look when I make you cum. You still gotta go?”
You lowered your eyes, and whispered, “No.”
“Then fucking look at me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
You watched as Bucky pulled out his knife and cut your dress and panties off of you. You were dripping down your thighs at this point.
“I love you Doll, but I won’t abide by anyone else thinking that they can have what is mine. Now get on that bed, ass up.”
Bucky hoped this was working. He only had one chance.
It was working.
Possesive Bucky was turning you the fuck on. You did as you were told.
You heard Bucky moving behind you, probably taking his clothes off. You felt the bed dip as he climbed behind you and spread your thighs. He swiped one finger up your folds.
“Mmmmmm. Doll. I’ve been dreaming of this beautiful cunt since I left. This creamy pussy is mine. Don’t ever anyone else think they have a chance at it.”
You didn’t say anything and after a few seconds, you received a resounding slap from Buckly’s human hand.
“What did I say?”
“You were spouting some chauvinistic, hypocritical….”
Another smack, and another silenced your words and turned them into yelps of pain until your ass warmed up and you began to like it.
When you started moaning is when Bucky leaned down and started fucking you with his tongue. He pulled you back on his face and you came again in no time.
“You’re mine.” His whisper was gravelly and desperate, and making you quiver.
Bucky turned you over as he wiped his face with his arm.
“I wanna see your face when I fuck you to that realization.”
Bucky pulled your thighs down to meet his. You couldn’t help but notice how hard his cock was, bobbing against his abs. You also couldn’t help but lick your lips.
“You want my cock in your mouth?”
You wouldn’t admit it, but he could read the look in your eyes.
“Maybe later, I’ll feed it to you Doll. Right now, you’ve got to know that you are mine.”
You were two orgasms in and ready for more; there was no doubt in your mind that you were his. But he didn’t know that.
Bucky leaned down on one elbow, hand in your hair and pulling it from the scalp, pain delicious. He took his cock in his hand and positioned it at your opening while looking at your face. He pushed in slowly, savoring the expressions as he tore your soul apart with his dick.
Your mouth opened and you moaned, “Fuuuuucckkkkk!”
Bucky closed his eyes and dipped his head, your expressions too much for him. The thrill of you was causing butterflies.
“Got me close already Doll. I am ready to spill for you everytime I see you. Damn. I love you. You’ve got to know that. »
He was stroking inside you, making you feel every inch of him. He knew how to destroy you. And that’s why you were his.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, and you make me feel so… fuck. You make me feel. You ground me. You bring me back to life.”
His words, as much as his actions, were getting you so high right now.
“Good god, James…”
“I don’t know if he’s good, but he has to be real because this….” He leaned down and kissed you. “... this is a miracle.”
He was stroking deep and completely. You felt molded to him. There could never be anyone else.
“And I’m going to cum inside you tonight until I am dripping out of your pores.”
When he whispered it in your ear and you started to cum, squeezing his cock for dear life.
“Fuck Doll. Fuck. I didn’t mean to make you cum again so soon. How did it happen?”
You could sense his smile, but you didn’t care.
“I fucking love you, James. Against my better judgement, I love you….Oh!”
Bucky didn’t dream that he would hear those words from you. He just hoped to get you addicted to him physically. He leaned up and took your head in his hands.
“What did you say?”
You glared at him. “I love you. That’s why I was so p…”
Bucky cut you off with a kiss, then put his hand around your throat as he pounded his cum into you.
He groaned at the feel of his release, and at you clenching around him. Then he collapsed onto you, both of you sweaty and spent.
He kissed your neck, and then climbed down your body to see his accomplishment. He opened your legs to see his spend seeping out of you. He licked your thighs and pushed the cum back inside you with two fingers, and wasn’t able to help himself from fucking them into you.
Bucky felt your swollen pussy quivering and he smiled as his tongue cleaned you up, inside and out. You tugged on his hair as he began to make you cum again.
“If you love me, you’ll let me make it up to you. Love you. Cherish you.”
“Will you let me do the same?”
“I’m not worthy, Doll. But I will try.”
And his lips went to work on worship.
I accidentally deleted this whole fic and had to recreate it. 🥴. Ugh! Let me know. 🙈
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