#Bucky Barnes x reader
a little help
Summary: Bucky’s been having difficulties in a certain... department. He’s at a loss, completely ready to give up until he starts theorizing. If you have the ability to heal people, maybe you can help him out. Maybe you’ll be able to fix him.
Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) Reader
Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!; unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks!); masturbation; elements of orgasm denial; elements of orgasm delay; handjobs; anal fingering (Bucky receiving); use of sex toys (vibrators - Bucky receiving); prostate massage; coming untouched; blowjobs; dirty talk; painful masturbatory efforts; enhanced Reader (no y/n); pet names (doll, baby); age difference kink; multiple orgasms; strong language; mutual pining; lube, lube, and more lube; CONSENT, ALL THAT LOVELY CONSENT!
Word Count: 12,400+
A/N: I have no excuse for this. Enjoy! xxMoni
It’s two in the morning and the room is literally cold but Bucky’s body is burning up, clenching and unclenching the miserable coil that’s been resting inside his heaving stomach since midnight. He’s sweating, sticking to the cotton sheets below him and even though it feels incredibly uncomfortable, he can’t seem to stop himself from grinding down onto the bed. It’s relaxing and blissful, the pressure of the mattress against his back and bottom, but it’s also the most he can do without absolutely falling over the edge.
He’s got his flesh hand wrapped tightly around his aching cock, pulling and squeezing from the base of his heavy balls to the angry looking red tip that’s leaking all over the place. He throws his head back into the pillow with a quiet whine, eyes clenched shut and hips thrusting awkwardly in the air as he so desperately tries to find a perfected rhythm. But he can’t find it, no, not when his stomach is clenching up again for the third time in two hours.
Bucky knows he should stop — that it’s completely pointless at this point; that it’s only going to cause him more pain and suffering. But his back arches against his will and it’s beautiful; anyone who caught sight of him now would certainly beg to give him a helping hand. But Bucky can’t think about that right now. No, he’s been thinking of a thousand things these last painful hours: how much he wants to come, how much he needs to come, who he wants to witness this, how good it must feel. He has to shove his metal hand into his mouth to keep from crying out when his fingers slide over his slit and collect the dribbling come. It’s added to the excessive amount of lube, spreading over his hard length and to the base of his hips. He’s drenched, so fucking wet, that the lube is dripping from his incapable balls to his trembling thighs, into the crease of his ass. He tugs his cock harder, faster, and ignores the violent slide of his incisors against vibranium.
The warmth inside him grows unbearable and he’s crying, tears freely flowing from his clenched eyelids and down the sides of his temples, tickling his ears and wetting his hair. It feels so fucking good, so fucking magical, that Bucky knows he needs to fucking stop.
It’s been two hours and he hasn’t been able to come once. It’s such an insufferable feeling that the anger and horniness seem to just melt into one another and Bucky can no longer differentiate which is which. But this time, this session, seems to be working him higher than the last two. He’s flushed with sweat, practically begging nothing but himself to tug faster, to squeeze harder, to pick up the pace so all his ears can hear is the unflattering sound of the lube squelching. The heat rises and rises and rises until Bucky’s sure he’s going to come, that he’s going to come all over his heaving chest and into his own fucking mouth. He can feel it in his toes as they curl and ache and he can feel the pressure at the base of his spine. He’s almost there, he can almost fucking taste it, he’s so fucking certain he’s going to come loads until —
He’s aware of muscles trembling and his high dissipating and now he’s crying for a whole other reason.
He can’t fucking come.
He screams into his pillow and finally removes his cramping hand, curling it instead into the cotton sheets. He hears the seams rip open and his pillow is full of spit and tears. Bucky gives a few more hardened yells until he needs to breathe again. His cock doesn’t soften, no, it stands arrogantly against his sweaty tummy, tip dark red and the rest of him practically purple. Bucky’s not sure if he’s even seeing colors right. He can’t seem to remember anything else or feel anything else besides the blinding pain he tries to ignore.
It’s so goddamn frustrating Bucky is seriously thinking about putting a bullet in that thick head of his. Of all the torture and long-lasting ailments Hydra has caused or given him, this definitely tops the cake. It tops it, with whipped cream and fucking cherries and whatever the hell else a cake has, Bucky doesn’t want to think about that right now. All he can think about is how badly he needs to feel his body let go; to release that built up tension and frustration he’s been carrying around for seventy fucking years.
“Fuck,” Bucky mumbles, the heels of his hands digging into his eyesockets as he breathes out heavily. He’s trying desperately to control his breathing, to ignore the pain liquefying into that recognizable pleasure again, and so he finally sits up and kicks away the wet sheets with irritation. “Useless, fucking — Goddamnit.”
He turns on the shower so hard it almost shatters the handle. He nearly breaks the tile too after he punches it due to the sudden burst of coldness hitting his hard cock. He stands below the freezing stream for several minutes, begging and instructing his cock to soften and leave him alone. Because if he’s not able to come, why fucking bother? And it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened — no — Bucky has been trying to get off for the past two weeks now. Every night he’ll lay in his bed, writhing and begging through the fucking of his hand, begging to be fucked or anything, until the pressure builds and builds and Bucky’s certain this is the one, finally this is the one, only to suddenly drop and feel the pain of rejection instead. It’s like the pleasure comes to a sudden halt as his mind readies the inevitable, but like all the matters involving his mind, it only slips away into nothingness. And every night he stands under the freezing water of his shower either cursing up a hail storm or crying silently into his palms.
He’s thought about asking for help. There’s got to be some form of therapy for this shit, right? It’s not like he has erectile dysfunction — no — he can get hard just fine. Hell, he got hard just yesterday when he watched Wanda lick the ice cream off her spoon and just this morning when you bent over to pick up the remote control. So yeah, he has absolutely no problem getting hard. It’s the grand finale he’s had trouble with. And it’s not like he’s always known about this: the first time he got hard after coming back was just a month ago. Before that, it’s like he didn’t feel sexual desires at all. Now, the dial is turned up to eleven and Bucky wants to fuck and be fucked.
Plunging into the deep end is always a possibility. He’s bought sex toys, excessive amounts of lube, and searched his fair share of internet porn to last a lifetime. But he’s never opened the toys or kept a video playing while he jerked off. He likes the feel of his hand, he likes focusing solely on his pleasure, he likes hearing himself fuck up into his hand. The new world allows him the opportunity, but because Bucky knows the outcome, he doesn’t want to take the risk.
But this seems like the last straw. He dries himself forcefully, towel dragging harshly across his sensitive skin until he can’t feel the lube or the rawness of the skin between his thighs. He doesn’t want the evidence anymore. Just for tonight, he wants to forget he even tried. Wants to forget that Hydra took away yet another thing from his personal being.
So he changes the sheets and lies in the middle of his bed, stiff as a concrete board, careful of his movements for risk of activating an unknown sensor he didn’t know he had. His cock is half-hard and dribbles a pathetic drop of pre-come against his stomach but Bucky ignores it. He wills himself to fall asleep and ignore the constant throbbing between his legs.
“Well, who told you to stand so close to the target, Wilson?”
Bucky smiles at your teasing, watching as Sam and Clint follow close behind and into the kitchen. Clint’s holding a very sharp arrow and Sam’s nursing a nasty cut across his left cheek. Clint’s talking a mile a minute, explaining how Sam ‘flinched, and then he moved to the wrong side of the target!’ Bucky mutes the television and looks over the back of the couch. He simply watches the scene unfold: you, reaching into a high cupboard for the first-aid kit, Sam tapping the wound and flinching everytime he does so, and Clint still flinging around the arrow like it didn’t just almost impale his teammate. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton ball, dabbing Sam’s cheek a few times before throwing the mess away. Then you cup his cheek, rub your thumb across and over the wound, and breathe in slowly. The wound magically stitches itself up and Sam’s cheek is good as new. Sam thanks you and shines that famous gap-toothed smile of his.
“There, all done.”
“Remind me why you even bother with first-aid kits?”
“Better to prevent infection than treat it.”
Clint nods, understanding, and the two men go back to their business like one hadn’t almost killed the other.
“Enjoy the show?”
Your voice snaps Bucky back into reality. He always gets a kick from watching you do that. It’s such a sweet and amazing power that you harness, so useful and necessary, that it never gets old watching new and old wounds repair and disintegrate under your touch. “It’s just awesome, is all.”
And the swirling tendrils of delight you’re so familiar with whenever you even look at this man build and conquer in the pit of your stomach, pillaging with such a thrill that you really don’t mind the conquest. “Any cuts and scrapes? I’m happy to do it again!”
He declines but the moment he does, that sick voice in his head that reminds of him of all the things wrong with him, speaks up and drowns his ears, has them pounding with the want and need of asking you to fix him. Thank God the conversation dies naturally and you’re returning to whatever you were doing before because Bucky almost starts hyperventilating with the morbid idea that he truly starts to consider.
He doesn’t even know if your powers operate like that — if you can even fix internal misalignments and mental defects. Have you ever crossed the wires and repaired a brain injury? What about massive internal bleeding? Have you ever wrapped your willing hands around someone’s cock and brought them to a much needed climax, had them shaking and crying from such ecstasy after you fixed them from the inside and out?
He can’t. He won’t ask. There would be nothing more embarrassing. Sure, you two flirt on a day-to-day basis, but it feels friendly. You’re so goddamn shy that Bucky doesn’t even want to imagine the way you’d flush, the way your fingers would fidget and pick at your cuticles, or the way you’d dip your head low so that your hair can shield your face as you politely declined. Because that’s exactly what you would do: politely decline fixing his dick.
Or his mind. Bucky can’t really decide what the problem is, really.
He’ll just try again tonight. Maybe this one’s the winner.
He’s been going at it for an hour; one full, dreadful hour of writhing with intense pleasure, only for that pleasure to topple just as quickly as it was constructed. He can’t seem to even see straight and he’s tried every position he can think of. He’s been on his back with his legs spread and his knees tucked high; he’s gotten on all fours and fucked into his hand, fucked into his pillows; he’s even tried sitting up on his knees and presenting his chest like a delight.
But it’s not enough. The urge to keep going is there but Bucky pauses with his flesh hand hovering over his strained cock. He can’t believe he hasn’t come yet considering the mess he’s already made. It’s like his body is giving small pumps of arousal, just enough to make him believe there will be more; just enough for Bucky to use to lubricate himself extra, to feel how excited he is. He sucks in shaky breaths, chest heaving as he looks down to inspect himself fully. His nipples are hard and pebbled, sensitive by the constant pinching and rubbing his metal fingers has put them through. The extra rub is fantastic and every time Bucky pinched down he’d let out the most sinful whine that pushed his hips up and his cock into his hand.
His flesh hand is cramping and he figures he’s going to have to change position again sometime soon. But his legs can’t stop trembling and he’s too out of breath to turn over so he ponders.
What else can he do? What other ways can he get himself off? He looks across the room and to the discreet, beige box in the corner. The tape is removed but he hasn’t gotten enough confidence to open the package fully yet. He knows exactly what’s sitting in there and it’s eating him up inside, both a good feeling and bad, and he wonders, ‘What the hell?’ He’s out of his bed in less than a second and back on it with the box split open and its contents scattered.
He bought more lube, a normal looking dildo, and two vibrators: one straight and purple, the other with a slight curve near the end and an easy grip. He turns it over and bites his lip. He’s never had anything up his ass before. Or at least, he doesn’t quite remember. His first instinct is to try it out because it looks fascinating, and his second instinct stays dormant. Bucky tries to remember if there was ever a time he’s used his own fingers or a phallic object on himself… or if he’s ever been with a man.
The thought has him speeding through his room and to the bathroom to quickly wash the toy and himself. He can feel his heartbeat rising, excitement pouring through his veins and up to his head so he can feel the rush. And he focuses on that feeling because if he thinks about how this might fail and how he might be left unsatisfied, Bucky knows he’ll never try this again.
He’s not all that foreign to the concept: he lubes up three fingers and starts with one. He massages his entrance gently, sighing a long breath as he gets used to the feeling. He experiments with a gentle massage for a few more minutes before building up the courage to slip his middle finger half way into himself. He gasps as he does so, head lifting up from his pillow slightly. It’s weird, not really all that exciting yet, and he figures he needs to work himself up more until he can get to the grand finale. He slips his middle finger deeper and he breathes in deep, working it into himself gently. It’s not uncomfortable and he knows men typically enjoy this if they get the angle right, so he swallows the last of his doubt and slips the finger fully inside.
He breathes in slowly and massages his opening once more before lining up the second. He is slick enough that it won’t be that much of a push, so he dips his index finger alongside his middle and sighs into the mattress.
“Yes.” He lifts his hips up and works his fingers in, massaging his tight walls and focusing on the bliss. He bends his fingers and jerks from the intense feeling. His cock twitches hard and leaks a pearly drop of pre-cum. It’s like a mini-orgasm, one that didn’t end up with him exploding everywhere, but it’s the closest he’s been in weeks. He bends his fingers again and yelps, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he does it again and again and again.
He’s a weeping mess, hips thrusting without rhythm and thighs trembling each time he rubs up against his prostate. He arches his back and whines. “Fuck, yes, yes, please.”
He looks to his side and sees the vibrator sitting there, taunting him with the pleasure he knows it’s telling him to experiment with. So he lubes the toy up and works it into himself as slowly as he can. Right now, he’s lying on his back with his legs wide open and half-loving half-hating the vibrator up his ass. It’s thick enough so he has that rough but delectable tug against his rim and he’s drenched to the brim with enough lube to slicken a whole continent. He starts off with a slow pace and a low vibration, pushing the curved toy into his ass as far as he can take it. He bites his lip until he draws blood and the taste of it just makes him whimper because he’s not used to this, not at all, but it feels so damn good.
Tugging at his cock is one thing, but to feel double the pressure and double the build-up is a whole other thing entirely. He’s being squeezed and spread open. He feels so full and now he’s picking up pace, shoving the vibrator deeper until the curved end hits his prostate just right and he’s seeing stars. He can’t catch the scream that erupts from his chest so he just lets it go; lets it fly away and tease him. Keeping it buried inside him, Bucky angles the vibrator so it’s constantly massaging his prostate, applying such a perfect fucking pressure to his sweet bundle. He can vaguely hear himself cursing and whining, short gasps and mumbles escaping his moist lips in sudden bursts of enjoyment. He’s smiling through the pleasure and riding himself down, hips thrusting up and down against the toy until he sees white spots. The pleasure is building and Bucky tries not to think too much about the end result and to just focus on the pleasure he’s feeling.
And oh, what a wonderful pleasure it is. His eyes roll to the back of his head as the toy assaults his prostate and he gives himself a few more slippery tugs until the coil almost snaps, it’s almost there, and —
Nothing happens. He’s teetering off the edge and the pleasure immediately halts and changes into a searing pain. He pulls the toy out and lets himself go. Tears flow freely and an unbelievable pain in his stomach reminds him of how messed up he still is.
For a second, Bucky thinks he’s actually having a real medical emergency. That maybe this problem is health related and not because of the damage done to his fucking head. But just as quickly as the pain overtook, it subsides to the consistent buzzing and numbness he’s sadly grown all too familiar with.
Bucky grabs his side pillow and screams into it, loud and hard enough that he gives himself a headache. It’s so goddamn frustrating, so fucking unfair, and Bucky just about wants to tear his damn dick off to no longer feel the heavy weight of it against his stomach. He’s still hard, still leaking, and it was the most pleasure he’s felt in ages. The vibrator was so damn delicious and to not be able to achieve the final level was just cruel.
The next hour seems to go by quickly. All Bucky does is silently cry, still and unmovable on his drenched sheets. He’ll clean them tomorrow, he promises, and maybe think of telling someone about his predicament. He glances down at himself briefly and sighs.
His cock is softening, still red at the tip but his balls are no longer purple. The blush on his body has disappeared as well so he stands to clean himself off. He washes himself as best as he can while half-asleep and turns to lean his forehead on the shower tiles.
He almost had it. He was almost there. There’s no way he can live the rest of his life and not achieve orgasm, no, there is no way. Either he goes to an actual medical professional or gets a hooker. Either of the two, but Bucky’s leaning more to the hooker option. Maybe what he needs is a partner. Maybe he’s touch-starved. Having someone there to guide him through it may help. But then he vetoes the idea because no hooker would say yes to sleeping with him, an ex-assassin who betrayed the government more times than he can count on two hands. And he doesn’t want any unwilling participants.
But what about an experienced sex worker? Someone who can work with him and get him to that limit? To coach him through it and not care if he comes or not? That’s always an option. Stark probably knows a bunch of high-end sex workers, discreet too, who would be down for the challenge.
There’s no denying it, though. Bucky’s never been the type to pay someone to sleep with him. He’s desperate, yeah, but he just doesn’t see the morality of it. Fuck morality, he wants to say, but that’s just it. Hydra can fuck him up and take away his ability to reach pleasurable heights, but fuck it all that they let him keep his morality. What a bunch of a fucking bullshit. Sarcasm in place.
So his only three options are to seek medical attention, ask you for help, or suffer in silence. Medical attention is out of the question because even though he doesn’t have the exact same serum as Steve, he still isn’t able to contract any deadly diseases or other things like STD’s, or even the common cold. And his last physical showed no problems with his urine so there isn’t any technical issue. They didn’t bother asking him to jack off into a cup, either.
Asking you is a death wish. Because even though you are the kindest, most sweetest personality he has ever come across, there was always the chance you would say no. And if you say yes and someone overheard, they would kill him for even asking you. Because you were the baby the family, the newest and most innocent, the fucking Mother Nature of the group. He’s, at most, ten years older than you and you look at him like he’s a role model.
Bucky clenches his eyes shut and digs his nails into the tender flesh of his palm. Fuck, that’s getting him off. Your innocent and healing hands over his abused body; your tiny whimpers as he trails kisses and bites down your neck and to the valley of your breasts; the way your mouth would fall open in a silent moan as he fucked you into his mattress, your walls sucking him deeper and milking that long-awaited orgasm from him. Because, and keep up here, Bucky theorizes that if your hands are able to heal both internal and external injuries, you must be able to override whatever it is that’s keeping him from bursting. As crude as it sounds, your powers must know how to unclog that pipe… right?
It’s his last resort but he needs to ask. He needs to try.
Bucky groans as he simply rips the sheets off his bed and lies in the cold. He doesn’t deserve blankets, he thinks, with that depraved mind of his.
‘Please come to my room tonight. I really need to discuss something with you. -Bucky’
It’s barely nine in the morning and you’re already so damn anxious. It’s both anxiety mixed with a little excitement because Bucky wanting to discuss something with you is a new thing. Sure, you’ve spoken to the guy everyday for the past year, sat next to him on roadtrips, shared food, even went to the movies a couple times (alone), but this feels different. The letter was discreetly slipped beneath your bedroom door so you figure it’s something important.
The thought scares you and excites you all at once.
The day goes by with not much added to your to-do list and you find yourself standing outside Bucky’s door, hand lifted in a paused knock. Swallowing any worry, you knock and shove your hands into your sweater pockets.
The door opens literally a second after you knock and Bucky pulls you in the room and quickly shuts the door.
“Woah! We keeping a secret from the rest of the compound or what?” you joke, but your smile falters when you catch sight of Bucky — sweaty, beat, just completely knocked on his ass. You venture forward to hold his shoulders in place. “Hey, are you okay?
He’s been pacing. The walls must be bleeding with traces of his worry. Moral and depraved, moral and depraved; the combination doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be asking you, he knows that, but it’s getting him off that it might actually work this time. So, yeah. Moral and depraved all at once.
“Hey. Sorry for such an abrupt… message,” he quickly pushes out.
You blink at him. Slowly, you lower your hands from his shoulders. “It’s cool. Is there something wrong?”
“No!” He shuts his eyes in embarrassment. He practiced in the mirror, for fucks sake. “Well, I mean…”
“Bucky? Do you need my help with something?”
“God, I’m sorry.”
You giggle quietly, “Already?”
He sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair — it’s getting longer. “I have a problem that I can’t fix. It’s… health related.”
Immediately you’re alert. “What? What about the serum?”
“It’s not that. Nothing related to that. Or, I don’t know really.”
“Bucky, if this is serious we should get you checked out. I’ll do everything I can to help but it’s better to fix these kinds of things with a diagnosis.”
“I can’t come!” Bucky tries, ready for the chaos.
“Come to med-bay? It’s like down the hallway—”
But, shit, you’re not getting it. Bucky swallows hard and practically cries, “No, god, I can’t come! I can’t orgasm!”
His confession smacks you in the face. What? What the fuck are you supposed to do about that? But Bucky’s standing there looking worried and scared out of his mind and it doesn’t take much for you to finally believe he’s telling the truth and he isn’t just trying to get you into bed. Because that’s such a fucking brilliant, messed up, most dramatic lie one could possibly conjure up from thin air or the depths of their ass. “And you thought I could—?”
“It’s sick, I know, but I’m all out of ideas! I’m in so much pain when I try but nothing happens. I’ve tried everything,” Bucky pleads, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
“There are… there are toys and porn and this wonderful thing called lube—” you stutter, looking anywhere but at the man bouncing his leg up and down so fast it’s louder than your voice.
Bucky interrupts, face falling in the most beautiful way. “Doll, I’ve tried them. I can’t orgasm. I feel good, I’m on top of the fucking world, but I can’t come. It’s like my body rejects it and I’m left with so much pain and want that I—”
“Okay, okay. Hey?” He’s shaking, vibrating with a deep shame that you have to hold his shoulders in place. You wait for him to control his breathing and then you press down slightly, trying something you’ve never actually done before. If you can heal physical injuries, who’s to say you can’t heal matters of the mind? You try to transfer as much peaceful and positive sensations through your body to him. He shoulders slack in several movements, like he’s fighting it, but then he slumps forward until his forehead connects softly against your stomach. “I’ll help.”
His breathing picks up again, and he tries to get closer by rubbing his head against you. “You’re my last fucking choice, doll. It’s so goddamn frustrating!”
“Hey, it’s okay.” You trace your fingers through his short hair, making sure to rub the areas you massaged on yourself. This isn’t making you uncomfortable, not at all — it’s making you feel insanely sympathetic. You hate when anyone is in pain and filled with dangerous amounts of frustration, but the fact that it’s Bucky, one of the kindest souls you’ve ever met, it’s absolutely devastating. “I’ve never actually… healed anything of that sort so I don’t know if it’ll work.”
Bucky grumbles, “I feel like I’m forcing you. I promise you, you were my last resort.”
You chuckle, still carding your fingers through his scalp. “Please, make me feel more wanted.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that. Just… you’ve gotta know how embarrassing this is.”
He doesn’t exactly feel you nod, but he assumes by your slight shuffle that you did. “We can try, okay?” The question burns in the middle of your throat, but you ask it anyway. Your nerves are starting to get the best of you. “Do you want to now?”
Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few moments so you send more soft sensations through your body to him, and he suddenly purrs in desperation. “Please.”
“Okay, hey Bucky, it’s okay,” you say, pulling his face away from your stomach so he can see your face. “I promise this isn’t disturbing me. Don’t worry. If you’re in pain, that’s what I try to stop.”
Bucky scans your face until he really doesn’t find any hints of regret or uneasiness. But as Bucky has realized before: he’s a man with a fuck ton of morality, a gentleman in all definitions, and he can’t fathom having you touch him intimately without returning the favor, at least. If that’s what you want. Because even though this isn’t the best way to initiate sex with the girl he’s been crushing on for several months now, he can’t just let it be some awkward roll around that you two never speak of again. “Can I… can I kiss you?”
“Sure.” The question makes you smile dumbly, the innocence of it calming you. “We’re gonna try just a good ol’ fashioned handjob, alright? Start slow.”
Bucky nods quickly and practically jumps across the bed to dig through his bedside table. He pulls the big container of lube out and throws it on the bed. You watch him, amused and sorry all at once, because this really must be a big deal for him. Out of all the things you thought he would want to talk about, this sure as hell wasn’t on the list. But you were a natural healer and when one of your friends was in pain, it was your job to make them feel good again. This wasn’t exactly in the job description, but Bucky’s eyebrows are drawn up so tightly and his bottom lip is bruised from biting that it’s impossible to deny him release.
“Lay back,” you instruct. “I’m going to try to make you feel as comfortable as possible. It should help clear your mind.”
Bucky swallows loudly but agrees. You climb on top of him slowly and avoid touching your bottom with his crotch. But it still seems to ignite Bucky, because one second he’s breathing slowly and controlled and the next he’s shutting his eyes and involuntarily gripping your hips and keeping them in place. You gasp and look down at him. He’s turning such a beautiful shade of pink already and his mouth parts with a silent whine as he holds you there, desperately wanting to slide you back and forth as his cock hardens. “You good?”
He swallows again and opens his eyes. Big mistake, Bucky thinks, and he whines loudly at the wonderful view he has. Your beautiful red lips, loose wavy hair, that small mascara smudge beneath your left eye. If his body doesn’t allow him to come this time, Bucky swears on his mother’s grave that he’ll put that bullet in his head. To have you here looking the way you do, full weight squishing him into the mattress ever so slightly — god, you deserved to see him come. You deserve the praise. “I’m good,” he finally answers.
You give him a tiny smile and shyly run your hands up his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you reach the first trace of skin. Bucky sucks in air in a big gulp and tries to focus on your hands. Closing your eyes, you breathe in slowly.
Already, he feels light tingles ignite on the skin you’re blessing. It starts near his collarbones and trails up his willing neck, following the grace of your fingertips like a spreading wildfire. Then you’re dancing alongside his chin and up his cheeks until you cup the sides of his temples and squeeze gently. Suddenly Bucky feels like he’s floating and he releases a small groan. His hips thrust upward but you ignore that — you don’t even think he realized he did it. Then Bucky slowly exhales and the smile that appears on his lovely face tells you this might work.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”
Bucky opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the noticeable tears of bliss before nodding. You lean forward, tipping your body but leaving your hands clasped around his temples. Until finally your lips meet and Bucky feels hazy, filled under a deep, peaceful state that refreshes every tangled wire in his brain, loosens all his muscles, and clears his mind from depressing thoughts about bad endings and things he can’t have. He can feel your power flowing through his veins and into the deep crevices of his thoughts and he doesn’t care about anything anymore — just the feeling of your soft lips and taste of the sweet flavored lipstick.
And you feel it too. Whenever you heal someone, there is always this slight vibration that travels from their ill body to yours. For a second it’s weird, like you’re consumed by all the bad things plaguing them, until it turns into this sweet relief, their sweet relief, and it pools over you in waves of satisfaction. You’ve helped them, healed them, stitched them up and it makes you feel all-powerful.
Bucky’s chest heaves faster. He’s getting impatient but he’s so brilliant beneath you, eyes closed with a blissed smile that tells you he’s enjoying this as much as you are. “You ready?”
Bucky nods, a little hazy, and watches as you lift yourself from his lap. He helps you undress him until he’s stark naked, shivering against the sheets.
You try to be professional, if that’s even possible in a situation like this, but Bucky Barnes is underneath you in all his morning glory. He’s absolutely beautiful — red in the cheeks and down his sculpted chest, nipples pearled and begging to be licked, fingers (both flesh and metal) extending across the cotton sheets like newly blossomed spring flowers, hardening cock dripping from the mere idea of finally finishing — so yes, absolutely beautiful. And it’s taking everything within you not to milk him of every drop he has to offer with your mouth or your pulsing heat. For now, for Bucky’s own fucking sanity because oh my god this guy is about to fall off the edge of the earth, you’ll utilize your magic hands.
“I’m going to start by… um, feeling you up? Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Bucky breathes in slowly and chuckles a little. “Have handjobs changed in the last century?”
You lightly smack his thigh, flushing with guilty pride at his startled intake of air. “No. I just mean, do you like to be spoken to? Do you want me to call you anything? I want to make this as good as possible.”
“I’m flattered, doll,” Bucky smirks. You roll your eyes and trace your fingertips along the tops of his thighs. It elicits a delicious groan from the super soldier. If your light touches are getting him this hard, this blushed, then he must really be in desperate pain. “I like to be spoken to. I think. I like your voice.”
“Oh? You like my voice?” you tease, inching your fingertips closer to the fine dip of his inner thighs. He tries to settle his hips but fails, and the small jump makes you giggle. “Okay, I’m going to start. If you feel like you need to stop, just say it. I’ll pull back immediately.”
“Okay.” He sucks in another deep breath and gives you a tentative smile. “I’m ready.”
Nodding, you finally close the distance between the two of you. Your small hand wraps around his pulsing cock in a trained grip. You squeeze a little harder and run your hand up and down slowly, working him gently through the hot friction. He mewls low and his hands come up to latch onto the bedposts behind his head. He holds them, holding himself in place, and groans.
“Please, please, please,” he chants, rutting up into your dry hand. You let him feel the warmth of skin-to-skin before leaning over the bed for the lube. He doesn’t register your movement until he hears the click of the bottle. “Yes, doll. Please!”
“I’ve got you,” you say, almost like a whisper. “Focus on me, okay?”
You encircle him once again but this time his hips fully leave the mattress and his chest heaves as it expels a gorgeous moan. His eyes shoot open, tears brimmed on his bottom lashes, and his mouth is twisting into a euphoric smile.
It doesn’t feel like any time before, Bucky knows this for sure, and he’s certain that he’s in heaven. He wants to believe this will work, that all he was experiencing was a tiny case of being touch-starved — but he doesn’t want to jinx it. Another wave of pleasurable rapture works through him, from the tips of his toes to the meat of his heart, and he really can’t stop smiling.
You resettle your hips on his thighs and work him faster. The lube is making a naughty squelching noise, the sound bouncing off the walls and working you as well. You can feel your thighs clenching involuntarily, breath picking up, and your panties stick uncomfortably. You want to reach down with your other hand and work yourself to the same edge Bucky needs to jump off of, but it’s not your time. It’s not your turn.
You rub up and down in both fast and tight strokes, alternating to slow and light, that it leaves Bucky screaming for more. It feels so good that he entirely forgets to shut himself up. He’s moaning up to the ceiling, eyes rolled to the back of his head, spit accumulating by the sides of his mouth. His cock throbs in your hand, all thick and engorged with a need to burst. Leaning down, you place wet kisses along his chest and up to his collarbones, swiping licks here and there, and work your way back down to his hard nipples. You lick a swipe across his left one, wrapping your lips around the hardened nub to tug it lightly. You can feel Bucky’s heart beating rapidly, like it’s ready to beat out of his chest, and there’s a wonderful sheen of sweat building across his soft skin.
“How you doing, baby?” The term accidentally slips from your mouth, all low and lusty, and you wonder if you should have discussed it first with Bucky. But he responds with a literal bounce of his hips and deep whine in his throat, making a mumbled ‘mmpf’ noise. You figure he liked it. “You doing good? You look so great, Bucky. All hot and wet underneath me. You like being all hot and wet for me?”
“Fuck! Yes, yes, I do, please.”
His voice is higher. He looks damn good begging.
“Do you want me to kiss you again? You wanna be kissing me, feeling me when I make you come?”
“Uh! Yes, doll! Please, fuck me, please!” His last ‘please’ is muffled as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip and he’s rutting again. Your hand is working wonders, sliding up and down his hard cock at the perfect rhythm, the perfect speed, and he just about cries a cry that would shatter the windows when your thumb rubs under the head and over his leaking slit.
It takes a few moments to realize he had just begged you to fuck him. It does things — twisting your insides until the tight coil gives your clit a literal heartbeat — but again, you’re keeping it professional. A sick, selfish thought forms: What if he needs you to do this again?
You can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips and Bucky notices — fuck, he feels that sound slip into his veins and his blood and right down to his thick cock. He pulses in your hand and he’s back to begging. “Doll, kiss me. I need you, please.”
You lay chest to chest, right hand working him deliciously while you scale the left to cup the side of his face. You push all the healing magic — or whatever it’s called, all you know is that it feels like a warm hug and comfort food according to people you’ve worked on — through your chest and your hands, watching the way Bucky enjoys every second of it. You kiss him deep and hard, involuntary gasps leaving your lips to enter through his. He ruts his hips up into your magic hand quicker.
“Come for me, baby,” you instruct, pulling your hand up to squeeze the head of his cock. “Come in my hand, come all over yourself, Bucky. You’re almost there.”
“Ah!” Bucky yells, his hands finally leaving the bedpost to smack down onto your ass. The jolt startles you. “Mmpf, I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”
“Whatever you need, Bucky. Touch me.” Your words literally break him. He mumbles a quick ‘fuck me’ under his breath as he scans your face, then he grips your ass tightly and ruts you against him, your jean-clad body providing a rough but pleasurable rub against his naked hips. Your hand moves quicker, stroking him from the base of his cock to his leaking red tip. “Fuck, Bucky. You need it so bad? Look at you.”
He starts to moan the first half of your name, but it’s muffled horribly. He’s gasping out little blows of air, his lips bruised with your lipstick, and he feels the coil begin to burst. He doesn’t want to think of it not working, hell fucking no, so he focuses on your face. Your lovely face that looks just as fucked-out and blissed as his probably does, and he practically loses it.
“I’m gonna come,” he tries, pushing out the syllables as best as he can. The whole compound must hear his yelps but he can’t stop. He can’t stall his hips, he can’t stop his moaning, he can’t stop looking deep into your eyes as you work him to his much needed release. But needs more — god, if this is the only chance he’ll ever get to come again, he needs to speak up now — so he groans a restrained request of: “Doll, please touch me more. More. I need it.”
He shuts his eyes and groans, takes your hand resting gently on his cheek, and brings it down below until your fingers brush against his perineum. He practically purrs and it hits you immediately. You nod and kiss him hard again, stroking him to the finish line and gathering the excess lube with your other fingers, until they’re slick enough for you to tease his entrance and rub the sweet area between his tight balls and tight heat.
He has to grip the bedpost again, he has to, because the stimulation against his prostate and delicious wrap of your hand causes him to break the wood and rattle the bed. He looks so good, so fucking marvelous, that it’s even too much for you. You squeeze your thighs as best you can with his body restricting direct access, until you’re coming without even being touched once. The shock vibrates through you and unknowingly into the super soldier below you.
His muscles tighten and cock leaks in desperation and Bucky watches your face contort into one of pure ecstasy and he’s…
It hits him almost violently, but so damn sweet. He can feel your waves as much as they hit you. He’s moaning recklessly, loudly, and he feels on top of the world. His release paints your clenched hand and his heaving stomach, even all the way up to his chest and chin. He rides it like it’s his last journey, focusing on your face and the fingers still rubbing his sweet area to milk him for every last drop. He blacks out for a moment, muscles loosening and hips finally settling, until he’s left with the pure, fucked-out bliss of his long-awaited orgasm.
He legitimately wants to cry.
The two of you lay there, you on his chest and him jelly below you, until he tires from the overstimulation and he assures you he’s alright.
Neither of you know what to say.
“I guess you do have magic hands.”
You whip the pillow into Wanda’s face and attempt to smother her as she cackles from what you just revealed to her. Because c’mon, you had to talk about it. It’s the naughtiest, most erotic thing you have ever done in your life and you two didn’t even have full-on sex. You were out the door (after checking for the millionth time that Bucky was okay, of course) and in the comfort of your own room too quickly. You felt awkward leaving him to clean up and sleep alone, like there was this unspoken need between you both. But that’s the thing — you both knew you should have stayed. Or at least, were supposed to stay.
But it’s done, you’ll ask him if he’s healed or whatever later today, and you two can move on and live life. Except you’ll live through life with the memory of his lips on yours, the weight of his perfect cock in your hands, the feeling of his hard chest against yours.
“Stop, oh my god! You can’t say anything!”
Wanda gasps dramatically, “Who would I tell? How would that conversation go?”
You grumble and throw yourself back down on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “You think he expects me to move on?”
Wanda raises an eyebrow, “You just gave the boy his first orgasm in seventy years. He’s not letting you go that easily.”
“Oh, so now I’m just someone he calls when he needs my hands?”
“Stop selling yourself short,” Wanda says. “He chose you for a reason. You’re blind if you don’t see it.”
She stares at you for a long moment until she realizes you’re serious. “Are you kidding me? He could have gone to the hospital, hired a sex worker, tried with literally everyone else before coming to you —”
“Is this supposed to make me feel good? Nice pep talk.”
“No,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “Sure, he knows about your powers. That quite well could have been a major factor in him asking you. But he still thought of you first — he was comfortable with you, comfortable asking you, he trusts you!”
You pause and twiddle your fingers together. “You think?”
“He could have asked me.”
Suddenly, irrationally, you feel jealous. Before you object, Wanda lifts her hand in defense to explain. “It’s not a problem with his body. I mean, sure, the mind and body are connected. But it’s his head that needed the push. My powers could have worked too.”
That makes a whole lot of sense. “So you’re saying I should just… run with it?”
Wanda shoves her feet underneath your thighs and moves them wildly, urging you to get out of bed. You shuffle away from her prodding toes. “I’m saying go for it! Ask him if he wants to get dinner. Ask him if he wants to fuck you!”
“You know I’m right!”
This could go two ways: either Bucky wants to start something up with you, all innocent with the benefit of knowing your healing hands can help him again in the future; or, Bucky says no — thanks for the one time fling! But I’m good! — and you’re back to somewhat normal routines. Sure, it’ll be the slightest bit embarrassing but you’ve been rejected worse. That’s what college was all about.
“You don’t think I’m being too straightforward about it? Like he’ll feel pressured because he thinks he owes me one?”
“Oh my god,” Wanda groans. “He’s a guy.”
You blow a raspberry and look from Wanda to the door. “Fuck it.”
Bucky stops pouring his glass of water to watch you enter the communal kitchen. There’s no one else around so he cringes without thinking twice. “I’m sorry if I made this awkward.”
Almost immediately, your eyes widen. “No! You didn’t make anything awkward. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound all that convincing.
You bite down on your bottom lip and strain your ears to make sure there are no footsteps getting closer. “So… have you tried… again?”
Bucky clears his throat, “Yeah.”
“Did it work?”
It’s slightly embarrassing to repeat that question. “Did… it work this time? Alone?”
Bucky nods but his eyes wander to the corner of the room. “Yeah, good as new.”
“Oh, awesome! Glad I could help.” You don’t really believe him but that’s fine, you were planning on asking him out anyway. You weren’t planning on pouncing again so soon… unless he wanted you to. “So I was thinking —”
“Bucky,” your tone becomes more serious. He avoids your gaze. “Are you lying to me?”
“Nope, all good.”
He sighs again and his voice sounds like he’s guilty of this, guilty of begging. “Doll, please don’t make me say it.”
“Really? After what we did, you're too shy to ask me again?”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“Because it looks like I’m using you!”
You get where he’s coming from. But it’s technically your job to help others when they’re in pain. This isn’t exactly in your job description but it’s Bucky, and you understand the need and pleasure of an orgasm. If anything, Bucky deserves to feel free in this portion of his life. He deserves to feel good after years of being mistreated. “Okay, how about this? We go out to dinner. And we do it the modern way — I’ll be slutty and blow you on the first date.”
He’s startled into a laughing fit. “Doll, what?”
You try again, smiling like a dork so he knows he can decline, no questions asked. “Yeah, let’s be sluts together. Or simply go to dinner. It doesn’t matter to me what we do.” You shrug, expression as gentle as ever. “I like you, Bucky.”
Bucky holds his breath and stares at you with wide eyes. “You like me?”
“A hell of a lot. Yeah.”
“And this doesn’t bother you?”
“You being this worried about me and the situation is enough to convince me that you’re a good man.”
Bucky thinks this over. And he knows you’re a good person, too. “Dinner.”
The date goes surprisingly well. The reservations were cleared, no one bothered you by phone or in person, and the two of you spoke all night about a thousand things. It really does feel like a friendship forged into something more literal, something more romantic, that it doesn’t even feel weird when Bucky pushes you through his bedroom door and immediately locks you in place against the wall with his lips attacking yours.
You respond immediately, pulling him by his jacket collar to try and get him to press harder — if that’s even possible. There’s so much desperate tenderness in the kiss that you’re overwhelmed. But it only prompts you to keep going.
Bucky’s hot breath meets yours and he pulls you to start walking in time with his steps, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed and you’re falling over him, draping yourself as tenderly as you can. Half of your brain reminds you that you need to exercise some restraint, and the other half knows you’ll still need to utilize your powers. But it’s fine — everything is fine and dandy as long Bucky keeps sucking the soft skin below your ear just like that.
“Do you wanna—?” Bucky’s words come out slurred and he already looks so far gone that you take pity on him. You really do because even though you can survive with some light teasing and a ton of foreplay, Bucky looks like he might burst at the fondest touch. Maybe that's exactly what he needs...
“I wanna,” you gasp, licking a soft swipe from the middle of his neck to his chin. He shivers, emboldened by it, and grabs the fabric of your shirt to help pull you up higher with him on the bed. A few seconds later, he helps you take it off. You grab ahold of his face and press your lips hard against his again, somewhat fighting your tongue with his and biting his bottom lip. He seems to enjoy it, a lot, and he whines low in his throat as he moves to pull his own shirt from his body. It’s a quick mess of scrambling limbs to strip all the other layers, but it happens and soon you’re rubbing against each other, all heat and bare.
You bask in the softness of his light stubble, loving the way it burns against your cheeks and the skin of your chest. Bucky’s taking his time but also leaving kisses lightening fast. Every so often he whispers a quiet “fuck you taste so good”, or “can’t believe you really want me,” and “I need to feel you. All of you.”
“Mm, Bucky, are you sure? I can always just help you out-“
“Fuck that, doll. You deserve some attention, too. All the damn time. Let me show you off.” He pants against your sweaty skin and runs both his hands up your back. You’re sitting in his lap while his back rests against the headboard. He tries to pull you in closer as he wraps his plump lips around your perky nipple, swirling his tongue gently as he sucks. He tries to resist smirking because of the loud moan you let slip, telling himself to stay focused on the task at hand. That being the wonderful swell of your breasts in his face.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
God, he loves that pet name. You are his doll and he is your baby and he just wants to hear that name tumble from your lips for the rest of his life. He bites down gently and sucks your nipple again, this time truly smiling as it elicits an obscene sound from you.
“You,” Bucky pants and flips the two of you over. “You, you, you.”
You grin at the cheesy statements but it’s true on your end as well. You only want him, him, him. The non-selfish half of your brain sparks, reminding you that he wants you, but you know you have such a kink for servicing him.
So you wrap your legs around his naked hips and flip back over, catching yourself on his sculpted chest. He arches an eyebrow, looks like he’s about to protest, but you quickly dip down to capture his lips in another heated kiss. All protests seem to melt.
“You’ll get me,” you promise, sliding down his body and leaving kisses on your way down. “But first let’s test some magic.”
Bucky’s soul almost leaps from his body when your mouth takes his cock fully. He can’t do anything but drown in the pleasure and watch as your lips wraps around his cock so beautifully, cheeks slightly hollowed, eyes staring back up at him as he tries to control his heavy breathing. You bob your head slowly and take him deeper, deep enough that your throat begins warning you, but he feels so good inside your mouth that you risk it, only coming up for air when Bucky releases a choked gasp.
“Doll, fuck, ah!” He yells loud enough that the whole compound must know what’s happening behind his closed doors when you lick a long swipe from the base of his cock to the leaking tip, gliding over the accumulating pool of pre-come. You keep licking, hoping to elicit even more dirty sounds from him (not like he ever stops), and wrap your lips around the head. You suck hard and prepare yourself for the undeniable surge of Bucky’s hips. His cock slides easily past your waiting lips, and then you’re back to choking him down.
Bucky thinks, your mouth is heaven for a sinner like him. He doesn’t deserve your light touches, that brilliant mouth of yours, and soon the tight wet heat that’s sure to turn his brain into literal fucking jelly. He’s sure you’re about to fuck him stupid. And he wants it, goddamn does he want it, so he throws caution to the wind and has the audacity to ask for more.
It comes out like babbles, his pretty pink lips forming syllables but not exactly full words. It takes some time, but you understand his gorgeous stuttering as a plea of “I need more.”
He sounds almost pained and you’re suddenly scared your hands and mouth won’t be enough this time. Because even if you’re not fully thinking about the logistics of his problem, you can’t help but think he might need more stimulation this time. Or multiple orgasms.
He’s a super soldier, you think. He can handle a few orgasms.
“Okay,” you say once you release him from your mouth. You lean over to the nightstand where he pulled that massive bottle of lube the other day and take it out. He follows your movement and almost comes from the sight of the bottle alone. He’s excited, absolutely bursting at the seams, and he tries to discreetly open his legs wider.
You try to hide your blush. You catch him trying to spread himself wider, eyes practically begging, and you have to ignore the sudden rush of slickness that drips from your cunt and down your thighs. Bucky notices, however, and runs his metal fingers through your slit to gather as much slick as he can before bringing them up to his mouth. You jolt from the coldness and practically squeal. Bucky sucks each finger one by one, groaning like a starving man. “You taste so fucking good, doll.”
You rub your thighs together and whimper from the pressure that applies to your needy clit. “You do too.”
He shines a lazy smile at your direction and watches as you smother your fingers with plenty of lube. You meet his eye and he nods rapidly. “Please, doll. Fuck me.”
The breath catches in your throat but you make do, slipping first your middle finger. Bucky knows he’s not going to last long, that’s a definite promise, but he also doesn’t mind. He’s ready to come multiple times, for as long as you let him. He sings your name as you begin rubbing his sensitive hole, slowly slicking him up until he seems ready to finally take the intrusion. He relaxes all his muscles, turning all negative thoughts off inside his mind, and chooses to simply focus on you. The way your baby hairs curl at the top of your forehead when sweaty; the way your mouth parts when you’re concentrating or nervous; the way your middle finger finally breaches his tight walls.
He groans deep in his throat as you push farther, then as you pull it out again only to slip it back in. You’re taking your time, he knows this, but he needs to come so damn badly that his stuttering could be mistaken as patterns of panic. “Please, ah!” He begs again, spreading his legs even wider and inviting you in.
Bucky gasps and starts panting as you stretch him. He looks absolutely glorious with his red cheeks and red neck and moist lips and tousled hair. He about screams once you push the finger all the way in, lovingly stretching him long enough until he’s ready for a second. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the pillows as he chants your name through parted lips. Your two fingers begin a steady pace, massaging his walls and filling him up, until you begin your search for his needy bundle. You curl both your fingers a couple times, sliding them in and out of his body, and Bucky rises off the bed when you finally find what you’ve been searching for.
“Oh! I — oh! Yes!”
It’s too much and too little at the same time. Bucky feels you milking his prostate, repeatedly rubbing against it with the pads of your fingers, that it’s like a mini orgasm each time. His eyes water with unshed tears and his throat bobs hard as he swallows. He’s so close, so damn close, and he can no longer control the rush of profanities falling out of him.
“Let go, Bucky,” you encourage him as you push your fingers deeper and harder into him, all the while hitting his prostate with the curve of your fingers each time. “I’m nowhere near finished with you yet, baby.”
Bucky chokes on his loudest moan yet and fucks himself down onto your fingers. You grab ahold of his aching cock at the same time you’re plowing him, and it’s only one, two, three squeezes of his cock for him to come over your hand and his heaving chest. He clenches hard around your fingers and continues to fuck himself down, cursing and mumbling as he rides his high. Soon enough he’s recovering with your now still fingers stretching him out and your tongue licking up the mess he made over himself.
“That was,” he tries, out of breath and voice a little ragged. “Fucking fantastic.”
You giggle, outright giggle, and Bucky loves it.
“Ready for round two?”
Bucky looks down at himself and thinks it’s impossible for him to be ready again. But the sight he’s met with surprises him. He’s just come, powerful and heavy, and he feels relieved — but his cock is still throbbing with the desire to be touched and messed with. Seeing himself so willing so soon gets him hot, and his cock jumps a little as it rests on his stomach.
“Do your worst,” he challenges, smiling with teeth and crinkles around his eyes. Your heart yearns to beat out your chest.
You’re merciful and instead of making him wait through more foreplay, you simply kick a leg over so you're hovering over his hips. Your slick has escaped the confines of your heat, sticking against your thighs and even somehow becoming smeared against your lower tummy. Bucky’s got his cock lubed up but it doesn’t even seem to matter. You hold him up and slide yourself down, easily enveloping him inside your tight walls until he bottoms out.
“Oh, fuck...” Bucky moans, throwing his head back and sucking in a few deep breaths. You dissolve into it, gasping as he ruts his hips up. He rolls them at the right angle so that it provides a delicious rub against your clit. You brace yourself with your hands on his chest, marveling at his sculpted pecs, or literal tits.
Bucky lets out a shuddering moan at the feel of your hands on him, and wow you have such magic hands. He can feel the same sensations you poured into him the other day and his mind becomes so calm and focused on you, you, you. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold out for long this second time around.
You lift yourself up and down slowly, relishing in the amazing stretch the girth of his cock provides — it’s everything you could ever hope for. He drags over every tight crevice and hits your sweet spot so good that you compare it to a devilishly wonderful torture. Bucky tries to contribute, pushing his thick cock fast and dirty now, and lets out a huffed laugh from the wrecked squeals you’re voicing.
“Bucky, oh my god, oh my god,” you say repeatedly, the same unshed tears on the brim of your eyelashes that Bucky still seems to have. You vaguely register your insane stuttering and Bucky’s as well, but the feeling of him filling you up is just too wonderful to focus on anything else. It won’t be long before he pulls a delicious and violent orgasm from you.
Bucky watches as you bounce yourself up and down on his throbbing cock: hair covering your face, breasts bouncing joyfully, your tight wet cunt swallowing him a little more each time you direct yourself downward. He grips your hips and helps you, aware of his use of medium strength, and begins pounding into you. It takes everything in you to remain sitting up as he thrusts hard and deep.
“You take my cock so good, doll,” Bucky mutters, quickly gasping in a breath of air from the sudden constriction you give around him. Another thing you two have in common then: a love for dirty talk.
“Uh-huh,” you say — it’s the only thing you’re able to say. Bucky has lifted his legs and brought his knees up and everytime he pushes up to meet your bounce he hits that wonderful place inside you that makes you see all the stars in the universe. Your throat is already starting to dry but it’s not possible to stop the sounds you emit.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Bucky admits, out of breath after each word. You just smile down at him, a tiny laugh escaping, and try to nod along in agreement.
“It’s… oh, it’s a long time coming,” you say and lean forward so you’re now chest to chest with Bucky. He takes this as a nonverbal way of letting him know you’re tiring, so he snaps his hips up greedily and tries not to come so suddenly from your loud moans right next to his ear and breath brushing his neck.
“You know,” you push out, smacking your lips almost sloppily against his neck. “They’ll kill us both when they find out.”
“Doll,” Bucky warns, grinning when you constrict around him. Naughty, he thinks.
“Yeah, only Wanda knows.” Bucky whines, a sudden wave of arousal hitting him unexpectedly. “And when Sam found out we were going to dinner, he was so mad.”
“Uh! Doll, what are you trying to do to me?”
“What?” There’s that giggle he loves so much, only this time it’s accompanied by a groan. “You know better. Sam blows up when I even mention dating.”
This Bucky knows. He’s been witness to the eye rolls and groans from the team whenever you brought up flirting, dating, or even the taboo topic of sleeping with another human being. But it was always you they made stop talking about it, always you they didn’t want to hear the full story from, always with you they went out of their way to approve or disapprove when it came to dating. The thought of the team knowing he’s fucking you now, kissing every inch of your needy body — the fact he’s about to come inside your tight pussy makes his vision go blurry. It shouldn’t be turning him on so bad, you’re so young and he’s almost fucking forty, but it’s igniting a flame inside his stomach and he begins rutting up faster, chasing his upcoming high.
“You like that, baby?” you question, mouth hanging open from the several brutal thrusts. “You like knowing you’re not supposed to be fucking me?”
“Fuck!” Bucky literally screams, pulling you by the hair to bring your lips back down onto his as he comes. You catch every one of his stuttering gasps into your mouth and clench around him to aid in his release. His come paints your walls and adds to the obscene wetness between your thighs. His hips still but his breathing stays ragged.
“C’mon, Bucky,” you breathe, lifting yourself back up to sit on top of him. He’s still deep inside you, slowly becoming soft but by the look on his face, he’s still not ready to leave this heavenly cloud of bliss. “You got another one for me?”
Bucky slowly nods, head thrown back into the pillows. He’s got a million more for you if that’s what you need, and the build-up he’s acquired over the last two weeks only urges him on. He hisses from the overstimulation as you drag yourself up and down again, slowly and gently, helping him with the blood flow. He looks down to see you work, and groans deeply when he sees how his come is spilling from you, painting the sides of his cock with each lovely spring of your hips. You’re fucking his come back deeper into you with the most blissed-out look on your face that it’s enough to stop him from pulling you off and eating you out.
“Doll, god!” He holds your hips in place and rubs you back and forth, making sure he’s deep inside and that the base of his cock is providing a heavenly rub against your swollen clit. You card your fingers through Bucky’s soft curls, pulling ever so slightly, and press an open-mouth kiss to jaw, then to cheeks, then to his wet lips.
“You just came and now you’re ready for another,” you tease, purposely keeping your tone light so it doesn’t sound like judgement. But Bucky doesn’t catch judgement at all — no — he’s thriving from it. ‘Baby’ is doing it for him, he thinks. What would ‘slut’ sound like coming from your lips?
Just the mere thought has him hard and ready again, already suffering the magnificent abuse of the tight slide of your dripping cunt. He wants you to fuck him in every position he’s tried these past two weeks, wants you to use all the toys he originally thought he wasted money on, and he wants you to whisper all the naughtiest, raunchy shit you can come up with every single night from now on. If he’s never able to come again from his own hand, he just prays that you’re willing and always around when he craves it.
You and your magic hands, he thinks. And now magical cunt, too.
He accidentally makes himself chuckle and he presses his lips harder against yours to make it seem like he’s transitioning into a moan. You catch it, however — and it prompts you to speak even more.
“I want you to come inside me all the times you want, okay?” you practically beg, riding him faster. “I want you to fuck me until you can’t anymore, alright?”
Bucky shudders and trembles, only able to give a slight nod in return. He can do that — he can definitely do that.
“I want you to come to me whenever you need a proper fucking.” Gasping now, the words tumbling from your shaking lips are unavoidable. The girth of his cock is already causing a light burn, but it’s so damn delectable and the coil at the base of your tummy is about to burst. Bucky feels it too because you’re starting to clench uncontrollably.
“I want you to be so damn loud that the whole compound knows you’re giving it to me just right.” Ragged breaths interrupt most of your words. “I want them to know that it’s your cock making me scream.”
“O-oh fuck,” Bucky arches his back and gasps, clenching around nothing and reminded that the next time you two do this, he wants to be just as full as you are. His flesh hand drags fingernails down your back, leaving light red marks in its wake. He’s aware of his metal hand, that one stays gripping the side of your hip, helping you bounce as you chase your high.
“‘Cause you’re not supposed to be fucking me, huh?” Now your own words make you chuckle. It almost feels like you’re disobeying your parents, fucking the man they disapprove of in their bed. “How do you think they’ll react when they find out I’m your little slut?”
“Doll, I can’t —”
“Fuck, you feel so good. Come for me, Bucky.”
“Okay,” he gasps ineloquently, before his jaw drops almost comically as you move up and down with a constant squeeze. You’re milking him, unapologetically milking him, lighting up every single one of his nerve endings.
He watches as your eyes clench shut and the most beautiful sound tumbles from your lips as you start to unravel. He comes at the same time you do, shooting his third load of the night deep inside your hot, soft walls, mixing with your own slick, his release from a few minutes ago, and the almost obscene amount of lube. He holds you there and makes tiny attempts at thrusting deep, letting you ride your orgasm and milk him of his.
The two of you lap at each other’s mouth for the few minutes you’re lying in the gloss of your releases, swallowing each other’s breaths and sharing each other’s warmth. Bucky knows that even with all that talk, you’re going to need a break. He’d happily go again, even though his cock is sensitive as all hell, but a break would only prepare you both for the next day. It’s late now and all Bucky wants to do is hold you in his sleep.
He doesn’t think it’s all that extreme to call you his savior.
“You good?” you mumble, lifting yourself gently from his chest. He hums his answer and greets you with a lazy smile. Slowly, you lift yourself off and turn to lie on your back. A shower sounds brilliant. “So, experiment number two — it worked!”
Bucky breaks into a fit of giggles and pulls you into his chest, holding you close and brushing his hand through your hair. He sighs, relishing in the soft feeling expanding within his chest. “Thank you.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes — being thanked for lending a literal helping hand is quite hilarious. “Don’t mention it.”
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Delicate Edges (1)
series summary: Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, it is only in moments when Bucky walks into your flower shop that you forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe. (Biker!AU)
pairing: Bucky x reader
chapter word count: 7k
chapter warnings: sexual harassment, reference to parents’ deaths (cancer, heart attack), extortion, drunken assholes, a blue eyed stranger to the rescue
a/n: the first chapter!! welcome to my new series! reminder that there is no tag list, but you can use notifications on @wkemeup-fics for updates 🖤 can't wait to hear what yout think!
series masterlist / series playlist
Your hands were shaking as you attempted to flatten a five-dollar bill against the counter; rolling the paper along the edge, smoothing out the stubborn crinkled lines. At the far end of the shop, the clock hanging above the door echoed with every tick – its hour hand inching toward the eight in short, threatening strokes. The sound carried over the static laced strum of Seven Bridges Road on the radio as if it could strike you through the chest.
“You alright there, deary?” Ms. Leary asked, pointing a finger to your trembling hands as you fumbled with her change. Her tone carried a light waver in its inflection – a charming symptom of her age and years of cigarettes in her youth. To your left was a bouquet of sunset orange marigolds and white carnations – Ms. Leary’s regular Tuesday order the night before she visited her husband downtown at St. John’s Nursing Home. “You seem awfully nervous. Do you have a date tonight?”
Pennies spilled onto the counter as you dared another glance up at the clock. Despite the paralyzing twist of anxiety knotting in your stomach, you pressed out a smile. Ms. Leary was a kind woman; one who shouldn’t trouble herself with knowledge of the men who would find their way into your shop in less than a few minutes time.
“I’ve got enough on my plate with the flower shop these days, don’t you think?” you said, dismissing her assumption awkwardly.
“Always time for love, my dear.” She grinned, gathering her bouquet in her arms. She did not appear bothered in the slightest by the unintentional sharpness in your tone. A smudge of red lipstick touched the edge of her cheek as if her hand had tremorred as she applied it that morning.
You nodded, though you found her romanticism rather unrealistic, and quickly extended the change you were almost certain you miscounted. The register would be short a few dollars, but you didn’t care. Not this close to eight. Not as long as Ms. Leary was gone before he showed up.
“Send Lionel my best, will you?” you asked, willing a kindness back to your voice.
You walked her to the door, a gentle hand guiding against her back as she attempted to linger by the roses. She was slow in her pace and you threw a cautious glance back to the clock again. It mocked you, taunted you – with its bright red hands violently ticking along the notches. Inching closer.
By the time you finally escorted Ms. Leary through the door, sweat had beaded at the nape of your neck. She gave you a wave, promising to see you again next week and bring a batch of her “world famous” chocolate chip cookies beloved by her rowdy grandkids. Charming and kind, oblivious to the threatening loom of shadows as she waddled to her car. You waited in the window until you knew she was safely inside and only when the bright flash of her headlights filled the shop, you shut the front door and locked it.
Next, came the overhead lights; turning off each switch one by one until only a low cast of a single lamp was all that remained. The neon open sign was unplugged, the lights flickering until it, too, faded to back. Those were the rules – lock the door, turn off the lights. Your father had taught you from a young age how to avoid attention when it was time to pay your dues.
Only a few minutes were left as the hour hand approached eight o’clock. You rushed back to the register, nearly tripping over a vase of carnations and the watering hose laying in the middle of the walkway. You cursed under your breath, shoving the hose under the table.
The register wouldn’t have the money you needed. You’d have to fish some extra change out from your wallet to make up the difference for the extra dollars you’d given Ms. Leary. It would make you short on groceries for the week, but you’d rather face an empty stomach than whatever consequences laid in store for being any more under on your payment than you already were.
You rummaged in the bottom of your bag in search of your wallet, nearly threatening to spill the entirety of its contents onto the counter in frustration, when you finally grabbed a hold of the old, faded leather. It had belonged to your father once. His initials were still engraved on the inside pocket.
Your thumb brushed against the lettering. A gift from your mother on your parent’s fifth wedding anniversary. The poor thing was holding on by a thread with all the cracks in the binding and the withered down leather. But your father had carried it for decades. Parting with it felt like betrayal.
“I heard you had a date tonight.”
You froze, hands gripping tight to the cash inside the wallet at the sound of the familiar voice. You hadn’t even noticed the creak of the hinges at the back door, or his footsteps carrying gravel and mud in from the alley. Foolish mistakes your father spent years warning you against.
Always be prepared. Never show your fear. Don't let you guard down for even a second.
Over your shoulder, a figure emerged amongst the shadows. The outline of the sort of man that had been terrorizing your family for almost a decade – black motorcycle jacket hanging off his shoulders, silver rings upon his fingers, and muddied boot prints following in his wake against the clean tile. On his back was faded stitching of a skull with six tentacles emerging from its base – the insignia of the Hydra club.
Marked by the skull on his jacket and the loud hum of motorcycles in the streets, the smart folk in this town had learned to steer clear of Hydra’s men. Scattering in the streets at the sound of engines in the distance, closing up shop before nightfall when the shadows were at their highest. You’d never had a choice in the matter. You’d been thrown under the boot of Hydra long before you were old enough to know what it meant.
“Don’t hold back on me, Y/n. I heard the old lady say you were looking nervous. You miss me that bad?” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached, eyeing the vases full of flowers lining the walls of your shop as if he could set fire to the petals with a mere glance.
As he stepped forward into the dim light, you took in the jet-black hair swept away from his face, the hardened look about his features. Wide jaw and cold eyes. Lackey for the Hydra club and right-hand man – Jack Rollins.
You felt the edge of the counter against your spine. Paper crumbled inside your grip; dollar bills molding to the shape of your fist with every step he took. Still, you stayed silent. Couldn’t speak if you had the voice to try. Not with the near decade old Hydra insignia carved into the wall above your doorway – a mocking reminder of what your father had desperately done to help pay your mother’s medical bills and get her into an experimental treatment that didn’t take. Hidden behind an old clock for the sake of your own sanity, but you knew it was there -- watching.
It didn’t matter that it had all been in vain, that the cancer still managed to take your mother after years of suffering through chemo and withering away beyond the woman you knew. The flower shop your parents had dedicated their lives to was now in the hands of the most notorious biker gang on the west side of town. Known for shaking down men in the streets and burning businesses to the ground for shorting them on payments; violent and ruthless – and they were coming to collect their dues.
Rollins set his hands on the counter – caging you between them. You held your breath, looking beyond his shoulder to avoid meeting the cold glaze of his stare. His knee pressed against your thighs as his gaze shifted down to your apron where cut stems and fallen petals lined the pockets. Close enough to feel his breath hot against your neck. He parted your legs.
It was a familiar routine – one where the men of Hydra took advantage of their time in your shop under the cover of darkness. They never pushed it further than what it took to instill a slow moving, paralyzing dread into your stomach, but it was enough to remind you that they could. They could do a hell of a lot worse than scare you. Rollins thrived in every reminder.
“Down, boy,” a voice ordered from the shadows.
Rollins tensed; his jaw wiring shut as he grumbled under his breath. It was only when Rollins put half the distance of the shop between you that you were able to draw air back to your lungs. You could still smell the pungent scent of his cologne – bitter and stinging the back of your throat – and you held back a cough before it could choke you. Under your grip, you relaxed your hold on the money, only to find it dampened with sweat and warped to your fingers.
“What did I tell you about playing with your food?” the voice drawled again and slowly, the leader of Hydra club stepped into the light.
You didn’t dare look him in the eye, didn’t dare let your gaze travel over the mesh of scars on the right side of his face or the way his tongue swept out along his bottom lip as he looked at you.
Brock Rumlow masqueraded himself under the guise of prestige and civility, but it was him you feared more than anyone else. Perhaps it was the calm aura he carried, the deadly quiet in his movements and the knowledge that he could snap under even the slightest of pressure and destroy anything within his reach.
Rumlow stepped forward, casually eyeing the series of pre-made bouquets in the display. He picked a lily from its vase, examining it in his hand before he crumbled the petals in his grip. You watched as they fell in a fallen heap to the floor.
“Tell me you have my money, darling.”
You nodded quickly, eager for this dance to be over. “Right here. As much as I’ve been able to set aside. Business has been slow lately.”
You emptied the register and shoved the crumbled dollars from your wallet into the bag Rollins slid across the counter to you. It would only leave you with enough spare change to scrape by for the rest of your month, but you didn’t care. Just as long as they left.
“I’ll get you the rest,” you added, panic laced through your tone as Rumlow approached the bag with a viciously inpatient look upon his face. “This is all I have. I swear.”
“The Hydra club has done business with your father for more than a decade,” Rumlow said, ignoring your attempts to persuade him. “Do you remember what we did to him when he was short on his payments?”
You clenched your jaw so badly, blood pooled into your mouth. Flashes of your father stumbling into the small apartment past midnight flooded your vision – his right arm clung tight to his bruised ribs, his skin stained in shades of blue and purple. Swelling around his eyes. Unable to look your mother in the eye for fear of his shame.
Afraid to speak and allow the blood to slip past your lips, you only nodded.
“Good. Take that into consideration, won’t you?” He spoke as if he wasn’t threatening to beat you within an inch of your life in the alley behind the shop – as casually as one might ask another to remember their keys on the way out the door.
“Maybe we give her a taste right now,” Rollins snickered from his place in the shadows. “She just admitted she’s holding out on you, boss.”
Rumlow stilled, a hardened look crossing his features though he did not glance back in Rollins’ direction. “We’re not animals, Jack. I provided a warning and she knows to heed it. Besides, the girl has to eat. We can’t get our money if she’s too weak to open shop.”
Rollins pressed his lips together, giving a short, infuriated nod, though he said nothing else. He was right, after all. It was impossible for you to give Hydra everything you made in the last month and still be able to keep the shop open, your bills paid, and food in your stomach. But he was wrong if he assumed you were holding back for anything less. You wanted these Hydra assholes out of your life and you wouldn’t hold onto a single dollar extra if it meant getting them off your backs.
“If I may,” a third voice inquired from the shadows.
Under the dim glow of moonlight from the windows, Loki Laufeyson came into view. He was the only one of the crew wearing a fully pressed suit in favor of the motorcycle jacket and laced boots. He ran the numbers, so you heard; handled the financing side of their extracurricular activities, held the deed to your parents’ soul. He didn’t bother himself with the bikes or dirtying his hands in the streets. No – instead, he found his thrills in the stacks of money lining his pockets.
“Miss Y/L/n has been consistent in her payments since she took over ownership of the shop,” Loki continued, fingers coaxing through the long black hair slicked away from his face. “As a token of acknowledgement, consider simply increasing her interest for the next month to make up for the losses today.”
You paled as Rumlow poked a finger into the bag, briefly eyeing the small mound of bills at the bottom of the bag. You held your breath. Minutes, hours, passed in the time he took to decide your fate, to decide whether he’d take follow Rollins’ feral instincts or take Loki’s advice. You’d never be able to come up with the money next month – not with compounded interest – and perhaps Rumlow knew that. Maybe, he got off on knowing he was setting you up for failure, for whatever horrible consequences he had in mind.
But it would give you another month. Misplaced hope that this time would be different. Hope that left you ruined on the first Tuesday of every month.
Then, Rumlow pursed his lips. He gave a nod to Loki, who swiped the bag into his grip.
“We’ll be back next month.” Rumlow gave a short wave to his men as they headed to the back entrance from where they came. But then, Rumlow paused – the shadows obstructing half of his face, touching over him like an old friend. A wicked smirk pressed at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be short next time. I keep a tight lease on Rollins. I imagine you'd like me to keep it that way, yes?”
You nodded, afraid to say much of anything else. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were almost certain Rollins could hear it from across the room. The way his eyes followed you as a terrifying grin tugged on his lips was enough to make you wonder. Then, he turned; the white stitching of the Hydra insignia watching you as he left.
It wasn’t until the door closed behind him and the low rumble of engines spurred in the distance, fading into the night, that you finally allowed yourself to breathe.
“I don’t understand why you can't just go to the police.”
Pietro slid a steaming cup of apple spiced tea across the table. The mug was hand painted from the month he spent at the ceramics shop down the block chasing after the pretty girl with clay on her cheeks and down the front of her smock. You never learned her name, only that Pietro walked away with dozens of sloppily hand painted mugs and a broken heart curtesy of the boyfriend he didn’t know she had.
Pietro slumped into the chair opposite you, brushing his hands against his apron and spreading baking flour down his chest.
“The Hydra club’s a menace to this town,” he continued, a heavy gravel in his voice. “They've got half the town’s businesses under their thumb—”
“—and the precinct in their pocket,” Wanda added, pulling up a chair beside you. She set a tray of dishes on the table and tossed a drying rag at her brother. He gave her a short glare, a battle of wills between them, before he picked up the towel and got to work. Wanda smirked, leaning back into her chair. Her expression sobered as she turned to you. “What did they do this time?”
You shrugged. It wasn’t anything worse than the usual encounters. Rollins was a power-hungry asshole. Loki loomed in the corners in his fine pressed suits like a devious fly on the wall. Rumlow made his less than subtle threats and took your money. You told them as much, though you left out the part where they’d threatened to do you worse if you failed to deliver on your payment next month. Business at the shop had been slower than usual lately, but it wasn’t as if Hydra cared for your excuses. You didn’t want to worry your friends – not with the concerned looks they shared as you spoke.
“How much do you have left on the debt?” Pietro asked quietly.
You clenched your jaw, keeping your focus down on the tea bag as you swirled it inside the cup. Watching the steam circle into the air, the heat of it against your cheeks, the sweet smell of apples in its wake.
“A lot.” More than you could ever hope to pay off.
Your father was desperate when he went to Hydra – offering up the entire deed to the shop and a promise to return double on interest if only they would pay off his dying wife’s medical bills. It was a problem to be dealt with later, he’d told you. All that mattered was climbing out of the medical debt long enough to see your mother get healthy again, to afford an experimental treatment that she wouldn’t live long enough to see the end of. Alexander Pierce was a dangerous man but he played by a certain set of rules. As long as he received his payments, it would be just fine. Your mother would get the treatment she needed and the family business would stay open.
Truthfully, it had worked for a few years. You learned the routine. Tuesday evenings – eight o’clock. Lock the door, turn off the lights. Ready the money. Don’t look them in the eye and don’t make trouble. Don’t resist. Your father had taught you well enough, but the panic of hearing the turn of their engines as they rolled into the alley behind the shop never lessened. They scuffed the tiles when they walked – leaving permanent black marks upon the floors as if to remind you exactly who owned the store your family had given their lives to.
It seemed worth it for a while.
Hydra’s leadership was passed to Rumlow. Your mother was getting better. You survived the worst day of every month.
But then, the treatments stopped working and the cancer took your mother in a matter of months. Your father died of a heart attack not long after. Folks liked to tell you that it was a broken heart that got him in the end, as if that were meant to comfort you in some way. He couldn’t live in a world without your mother, they’d said. It was romantic.
But your heart was broken, too. And you were the one left to deal with the fallout. A mountain of debt. A chain shackled to Hydra. The paralyzing grief of losing both of your parents. There were no words of comfort that could lessen the burden you carried.
“They’re expanding, you know.” Wanda tapped her fingers against her thigh, gaze glancing out the café windows. “I heard from Gregor down on 6th that Rumlow’s starting to charge all of the businesses that fall within Hydra borders. They’re calling it a territory fee.”
Pietro scoffed. “We’re lucky we’re on this side of the line.”
“This is still a biker town, brother,” Wanda reminded him. “We don’t know much about the 107 but at least they don’t bother us. Sometimes I see them riding the streets or getting into it with the Hydra club near the border. I just try to stay out of whatever they’re doing. Doesn’t matter what side of the war you’re on, there’s always collateral damage."
Growing up in Sokovia, the twins would know that better than anyone. They moved from one war zone to another – though this one operated under intimidation and thinly vailed threats as opposed to open warfare and bombings in the streets.
All you knew of the 107 was that four of Hydra’s men ended up in the hospital as a result of a brawl that took place a year ago near the border. At the time, you’d felt an ounce of satisfaction to know Hydra had taken a hit, but it was quickly displaced with the knowledge that cutting off one head only allowed another to grow.
You didn’t care whether the 107 were the enemy of your enemy. They were all the same as far as you were concerned. Just as bloody and violent. Just as vindictive and manipulative. You’d heard rumors they charged protection fees for the businesses that fell under their territory lines. Little more than extortion disguised under a kinder name.
The bell at the front door chimed and it came as a relief. Pietro reached across the table and squeezed your hand lightly before he left to help the new customer. Wanda watched him for a moment, smoothing out the edge of her apron and the fraying stitching of her mother’s name on the left side of her chest.
“What will you do?” she asked gently.
You held the tea cup between your hands, allowing the warmth to coat into your palms. “What I have to.”
Pay Hydra your dues. Stay under their thumb. Do as they ask, when they ask. Survive. Keep your parents’ shop at all costs.
“You know our door is always open for you,” Wanda said. She offered a small smile, a sadness lingering in her eyes as she glanced the tea you had yet to take a sip from. “Hydra shouldn’t cross the border this far into 107 territory. You’re safe here.”
You pressed out a smile in return, telling her your thanks. You took a few sips from the lukewarm cup before you slid a few dollars in the pocket of her apron despite her protests. She meant well, but at the end of the day, you both knew that no matter how bad things got with Hydra, you would never abandon the last thread you had to your parents.
And the truth was, with Hydra looming over your shoulder – you wouldn’t be safe anywhere.
After you left the Maximoffs’ café, the sun had already begun to set. It would be a brisk walk to make it home before nightfall, but you figured the fresh air would do you good. You didn’t get out as often as you used to since you took over May Flowers and your weekly trips to visit Wanda and Pietro were about the extent of your socialization these days. Still, it was something, and not even Ms. Leary could fault you for that.
Your walk through the east side of town often felt like a living memory. On your right, you passed by the donut shop your father had often frequented, bartering with the baker to give his chocolate glaze a little extra on the top before he slipped a few extra dollars in the tip jar. A few minutes later, you saw the front entrance to the park where he proposed to your mother. They’d been surrounded in a garden full of purple lilacs at the time right in the early months of summer. It was your favorite spot to picnic as a child, because they’d tell you the story of how he proposed and sometimes – when you were extra good – he might reenact it for you.
You passed by the salon where you’d gotten your hair cut since you were a child and the local library where your mother had dropped you off for day care. You stepped over the pothole in the sidewalk where you’d cut open your knee when you learned how to ride a bike and touched the dent in the stop sign on the street corner when you learned to drive. This side of town carried so much history for your family.
It was better than passing the bank who had refused to give your father a loan before they foreclosed on the flower shop and forced his hand. The lamppost where he had met with Alexander Pierce under the cover of night and arranged for the deal that left you chained to Hydra’s demands. The alley where he’d been assaulted for failing to make a payment on time. Part of you wondered if drops of his blood were still visible amongst the pebbles but you were too afraid to look.
The only decent thing about the west side of the town was the flower shop. Everything else was just another reminder of what Hydra could do to you if you didn’t come up with their money. It was why you tried to escape to the Maximoffs’ when you could. It reminded you that you weren’t as alone as you often felt.
On your left, you walked past the entrance to the Centenarian – a local bar known for its long hours and the rows of expensive bikes parked outside. Even from the sidewalk, you could hear the low hum of Billy Joel playing on the jukebox and the off-key singing echoing inside as a couple danced behind the open window to Paino Man. It smelled of stale beer and even the sidewalk felt sticky under your shoes as you quickly passed by.
You had half a mind to wander in yourself. It had been years since you let yourself enjoy a decent night out – even if it was hunched over the end of a bar with a lone whiskey and quietly observing the people around you. But the sun was setting quickly – oranges and red coating the horizon in its wake – and you knew better than to be out on the streets after dark with the Hydra club patrolling around with liquor in their veins.
It also wasn’t lost on you that the Centenarian could be home to the 107. There were too many bikes parked out front for it to be anything less – but there was something inviting about the laughter that carried down to the sidewalk and the off pitch singing to Billy Joel that made you wonder if maybe you were wrong. Men like the 107 and Hydra wouldn’t dance with their partners in open windows or sing in public. You didn’t even think they had the capacity for it. The very thought of a man like Brock Rumlow wearing anything close to a genuine smile, twirling a woman in his arms for the sake of her laughter instead of his grimy hands snaking down her spine made you shudder.
You ran your fingers along the gold watch on your wrist. It was loose on your arm, with a few too many chains left in the band from when your father wore it. It had been a gift from your mother for his fortieth birthday. He wore it religiously – didn't even take it off when he was working, leaving behind small specks of soil in the creases. Gave it character, he liked to say. You wore it now to hold onto those pieces of him, comforting you when you needed him most.
You approached a small circle of light hanging under a street lamp, vaguely considering whether the spaghetti in your fridge was still mildly passable for consumption, when you felt hand snake around your wrist.
Panic jolted inside you, the instinct to scream smothered by the low chuckle of the voice behind you. He yanked on your arm, spinning you to face him – tugging you back into the shadows.
The first thing you noticed was that there was no skull and tentacled beast patched on the back of a motorcycle jacket. His face was not one you recognized. He reeked of rum as he dug his nails into your wrist. You weren't sure which was worse – the pinch of his nails to your skin or the putrid smell of his breath. He swayed as he leaned in closer to you.
“You’re a pretty thing,” the man slurred, his breath hot against your neck as you tried to inch your way out of his grip – but it was too familiar, a game you’d played dozens of times before. Cat and mouse. Hunter and prey.
When you looked at him again, he wore Jack Rollin’s dark features – the strong cut of his jawline and the cold, dead look in his eyes. It froze you – your stomach plummeting – because you were still on the east side. Hydra shouldn’t be able to cross without serious consequences from the 107, right? That had to be true. You were certain it was true.
But then you blinked again and Rollins’ face morphed back to the stumbling stranger with the flush of alcohol heavy in his cheeks. The panic from the previous night was still itching in your veins. Messing with you. Playing with you. It lingered and followed you wherever you went and even a trip to the east side to visit your friends could not allow you even a moment of reprieve.
“Let me go,” you warned, tugging at your wrist as you shot a desperate glance to the end of the sidewalk. Nothing appeared in the horizon – no one walking alone in the evening. This town knew better than that.
You wondered briefly if this man was part of the 107. He had no distinguishing features, no emblems on a jacket or tattoos of loyalty. You knew Hydra prided themselves in striking fear with the simple glance to the symbol on their backs and you didn’t suspect the 107 to be any different.
This man was just a drunk; an arrogant drunk who stubbled his way into your path and felt himself entitled to lay his grimy hands on you. But a drunk that held a vice grip on your wrist nonetheless.
“Shhh,” his breath traveled along your jawline.
You stilled yourself – holding your breath as his nose brushed along the side of your neck. He was practically incoherent and the stench of rum burned in your nose the closer he leaned into you. You knew he was a stranger – nothing more than an intoxicated man on the street – but you could smell Rollins’ cologne, could even smell the leather of a jacket that was certainly across the town border. It wouldn’t leave you alone. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Maybe if this had happened years ago – back when you still carried an ounce of strength in your bones and the weight of Hydra’s debt didn’t drag against your ankles in heavy, metal chains – maybe, you would have fought back. You would have swiped a closed fist to the side of his face and knocked him down to the dirt where he belonged.
But you’d learned to stay quiet. You learned to be still and let it pass – because it always did. You’d seen the consequences when you didn’t. The scar on the left side of your father’s temple was evidenced enough. It had matched the edge of a ring worn on Rumlow’s right hand.
It would pass. It would pass.
And then suddenly, as if the universe itself had bent to your will, the man was gone.
The open breeze brushed against your wrist, leaving behind a chill against the skin, and you no longer felt dizzy under the stench of alcohol. You heard the man grunt as he collided with the ground, a low grumbling as he shuffled along the sidewalk. A second set of footsteps approached.
It will pass, you told yourself again as you kept your eyes closed – the same way that Rollins always left at the end of the night and Rumlow took his cash. The line was never crossed. It was only ever about fear. Perhaps, if you dared to open your eyes again, you would be in your flower shop on the west side and the hum of engines would ignite in the distance – steadily fading into the night until nothing was left but the gentle coat of silence. Maybe, you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of an empty street alone after dark in a dangerous town.
A hand touched your shoulder – feather light, hesitant – and you flinched. Your eyes shot open; fists clenched as you readied to defend yourself, as foolish as it felt. You knew the drunk was twice your size, but you’d learned how to steel yourself against men like Rumlow and Rollins despite the terror they induced, so you’d go down with a fighting breath in front of this man, too.
But the drunk was no longer standing in front of you, invading your space. Instead, you were met with the calming surrender of startling blue eyes.
Bluer than the delphiniums lined along the outside of your shop – the very same ones your mother had stopped by every morning to touch a gentle fingertip to the petals and take in their scent; quite literally stopping to smell the flowers because she was the sort of woman to take stalk in the smallest moments of joy.
Bluer than the empty sky you’d woken to that morning – calm and gentle as it coaxed you away from the viced grip on your sheets, the sweat stained on your back, and the heavy locks on your doors. Kind on the horizon. Vast. Limitless.
Bluer than the lake behind your grandfather’s cabin as the sun touched the crests just before it reached its peak in the sky.
Blue. Blue. Blue.
It took a moment before you even allowed yourself to venture beyond his eyes to the bristle of stubble along his cheeks and the short wisps of brunette hair brushed back away from his face. He had lines along the side of his eyes – laugh lines, you realized, that must have taken years' worth of joy to produce.
Blue-eyes held his hands up in the air, taking a slow step back as he noticed the tension in your stance. “Are you alright, miss?”
You stared at him; jaw clenched. Your heart was racing too badly to reply, fingers numb under the rush of adrenaline, but you offered him a short nod.
He exhaled in what seemed to be relief, stealing a glance back in the direction of The Centenarian. Piano Man was still playing through the speakers and you realized that the entire encounter had taken place in less than three minutes. It had felt like hours.
“We cut him off an hour ago but I guess he stumbled into a liquor store anyway,” Blue-eyes said, his voice lower than you expected. “He won’t see a drop of our alcohol again, I promise you.”
You swallowed, following his gaze back to the bar. His eyes carried such heaviness – a strange mixture of anger and disappointment you couldn’t quite place.
“You work at the Centenarian?” you asked slowly, regaining your voice.
He smiled at that, his head hung low so you could not see his eyes or the way the lines pressed lightly around them, but still – you could see the faintest traces of a pleasant memory. “Something like that.”
You had half a mind to ask him if it was true about the bar – that it served as the meeting spot for the 107, Hydra’s counterpart on the east side – but you bit your tongue instead. He’d done you a favor by chasing off the drunken man before he’d done any real damage and you weren’t going to repay his kindness by accusing him of working for a bunch of low life criminals.
“It’s getting dark. I should probably get home,” you murmured rather reluctantly, stealing a glance down the open sidewalk. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, leaving only a trail of darkness behind. Stars peppered in the sky, but the shadows hung heavy over the sidewalks on your journey back. At least your shop was close to the border. You’d rather face a run-in with the 107 than Hydra any day. The 107 wouldn't recognize your face, wouldn’t operate under the knowledge that they owned you down to the last penny in your register, and somehow, that was the kinder option.
“Let me walk you,” Blue-eyes offered. His gaze trailed over you, though it wasn’t in the hungry, demoralizing glare that men like Jack Rollins’ carried. It was almost a kindness – a quiet observation for a sign to step back, to put space between you if he crossed an unwanted line. “The streets aren’t always safe when the sun goes down. Could be a lot worse than running into handsy drunks.”
You swallowed, nodding slowly. You were well aware and it didn’t seem as though he took any pride in reminding you. If anything, there was a dangerous sort of anger pressed into his features – a sharp clench of his jaw, his hands taunt into fists. Almost as if he carried the responsibility himself.
“I’m not far,” you told him as he stepped in line with you. “I live above the flower shop on Culver.”
He paused, a slight waver of hesitation in his stance. “May Flowers? On the west side? It’s yours?”
You were surprised he knew of your shop considering the black combat boots and tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. You were certain you would have recognized a face like his if he’d ever shown up in your shop – standing out in rugged contrast to the delicacy of brightly colored flowers and plants inside – but something about his expression was painted in familiarity. You nodded.
But then his jaw clenched, his gaze fixated on the end of the sidewalk. Something like reluctance holding him back.
“It’s only a few minutes from here. I can manage on my own,” you said despite the nerves inching their way back up your spine. You barely knew this man – didn't even know his name – and still, something about this stranger felt safer than the terrifying alternative of being alone. But you’d handled worse before – you'd stool in front of men like Rollins and Rumlow and survived. You could manage another six blocks.
Blue-eyes took another cautious glance back at the Centenarian before his shoulders slumped. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a string of keys. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he unclipped a plastic charm and shoved the keys back into his pockets.
“Take this,” he offered, extending the keychain to you.
You stared blankly at it until he gestured patiently for your hand – never reaching for it before you could offer it yourself. You placed your hand into his, the calloused touch of his palms coaxing against your fingers – rough and labored through the years, a story within the palms of his hands. You shivered as you watched him slide the plastic keychain along your fingers, your pointer and middle finger fitting securely in the openings. He closed your hand around the keychain, leaving two sharp edges piercing through the center of your closed fist.
“You won’t hurt yourself on it,” he told you, tapping his finger on the edge of the plastic, “but if anyone comes at you, this will do some damage if you swing at ‘em.”
You turned your fist in your hand, testing out the motion as Blue-eyes stepped back to give you the space. His arms folded over his chest, a smile brimming upon his lips as he watched you. You found as you clutched the keychain in your grip, that the nerves slipped from their viced grip in your muscle, the panic easing its way from your bloodstream.
You felt the warm ache of a smile against your cheeks. “How can I return it to you?”
“It’s yours,” he replied with a quick shake of his head.
You nodded, biting at the edge of your lip as you played with the sharp edge of the plastic. “Thank you. For this and... for coming to my rescue.”
He shrugged, a teasing grin brightening his features. “You had him on the ropes.”
“Right,” you laughed, surprised to find it possible in your voice. You stole a reluctant took down the sidewalk. “I suppose I should head home now.”
“Yeah,” Blue-eyes sighed, sinking his hands to his pockets. “Get back safe, okay?”
You gave him one last smile, trying not to focus on the way his brow wrinkled at the center or how the edge of his lip was scarred as his teeth bit into the fullest part. As you faced the west side, inching towards the border, you could feel his gaze on you and a shiver crawled up your spine.
It was only after you’d crossed the border into the west that you dared a glance over your shoulder. The Centenarian was long out of view and so was the blue-eyed stranger. You clutched his keychain a little tighter, picking up you pace until you spotted the dark, overhanging sign of your parents’ flower shop.
It wouldn’t be until you finally locked the door behind you that you realized you never learned Blue-eyes' name. A sliver of disappointment sank into your stomach as slid the keychain around the metal loop with your apartment keys. You peered out the window, looking back to the east side of the city, wondering if maybe you might run into the stranger again.
624 notes · View notes
𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀
𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || You get stuck in Christmas lights and Bucky fucks you.
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || unprotected sex, oral sex, facial. PWP. MINORS DNI 🔞
This is for my dearest friend @chrisskisses Thank you so much Amber for all your help! This is the only thank you gift I can give you at the moment and I hope you like this surprise! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎
You pouted and shifted around in your cozy bed hoping to find a position where you’d fall asleep again.
You were sleeping peacefully in Bucky’s arms when you had woken up thirsty. You were frustrated to wake up from such a deep slumber and you were too comfortable to get up and drink water.
It was the Christmas Eve and both you and Bucky had celebrated it with much pomp and happiness. Instead of going to any of the parties, you had decided to stay in and spend the evening watching movies and eating your favourite foods.
After watching a sappy rom com, you had made sweet love and fallen asleep on your spacious bed. Now you turned around to see Bucky peacefully snoring and unaware of your ordeal.
Your mouth was too dry to sleep again, so finally, after much huffing and cursing, you got out of your covers and walked towards the kitchen with your eyes half hooded with sleep.
Yawning and rubbing your eyes, you walked mostly based on your instinct. But you were halfway through the way, when you tripped on the light strings beautifully placed on the wall and the floor.
You had decided to make this Christmas special for Bucky. After all that he had gone through, he deserved all the happiness in the world. You had decorated the entire house with lights and baked cookies and bought festive sweaters.
You grumbled in your sleep and tried to untangle your feet from the web of lights. You tried pulling the strings apart but only ended up getting your hands stuck in it too. “Fuck!”
You shifted further and by now all the sleep had left your eyes and you were simply annoyed and angry. Just minutes before you were dead asleep and look at you now, on your hands and knees with lights wrapped around your limbs.
“What a sight to wake up to.” Bucky’s voice was thick as it usually was when he woke up. Bucky ogled your ass and licked his lips.
He had woken up to your cursing and grumbling and you on your knees. Walking further, he playfully spanked your butt. “Bucky!”
“What?” He chuckled nonchalantly. “Help me!” You were annoyed as it is and Bucky wasn’t helping at all. Bucky chewed his lower lip and thought for a moment. “You’ll have to pay a tax, then I’ll help you.”
“Bucky, what are you saying? Just get me out of this.” Bucky shook his head in a childlike way, “Nope. Say you’ll pay the tax and I’ll do it.” You weren’t angry now, just intrigued by what Bucky had in mind.
“Okay. I’ll pay the tax.” You just sighed accepting the offer. “You look so beautiful covered in these lights, I can’t take my eyes off you. But you know, I was feeling a little hungry, so why don’t you let me eat my favourite dessert?”
You smiled broadly at Bucky, “Really? You don’t need to ask me to eat that cheesecake.” Why was he asking as if you weren’t going to allow him or something?
“I love cheesecakes but it’s not my favourite.” His eyes trailed down to your ass and the realisation dawned on you. “Seriously? It’s the middle of the night Bucky, get me out of this and let’s go back to sleep!”
Though you pretended to be against that idea, you could do help but squirm with excitement. “Okay. You sleep here and I’ll sleep on the bed.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and left you reeling for more.
“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll pay the tax. You can have your dessert.” He showed off his pearly teeth in a wide grin and kneeled in front of you to kiss you.
The kiss was sweet and gentle very much unlike what was to come. His tongue gently explored your mouth and your lips pulled at one another. He bit your lower lip teasingly and pulled away.
You strained your neck to watch him go behind you. He was impatient and didn’t waste much time in tugging your shorts down. You were already dripping with excitement.
“So wet for me babydoll.” Pressing kisses to your thighs, he finally licked a long strip from your clit to your hole. “Fuck Bucky!” Your hands formed fists and your toes curled with anticipated pleasure.
After being with you for so long, Bucky knew exactly which spots made your eyes roll back. He held your legs tightly to prevent you from falling ahead.
His tongue teased you by kitten licking your clit until you were mewling and begging for more. Finally, he started fucking you with his tongue and you laid your head down on the floor and pushed your ass back into his face.
You were already close and the way Bucky sucked your clit, brought the pleasure down on you. Bucky didn’t stop lapping as you rode the waves of your orgasm.
Bucky had become painfully hard and now he just couldn’t stop at eating you out, he had to feel you around him. Pushing down his pants, he entered you in a single stroke while you were still riding the aftershocks.
“Bucky!” By now your brain was a mush only capable of calling Bucky’s name. “Shit. I couldn’t stop myself doll. Fuck…” he grunted as he began thrusting. “Gonna make you feel so good.”
Unlike the soft and sweet love you had made just mere hours ago, this was animalistic and raw fucking. The lewd sounds of your wet channel and skin slapping reverberated through the otherwise silent room.
Weaving his hand through your hair, he pulled you up as much as the lights allowed. He passionately kissed you as his hips rammed into yours. “You look so gorgeous right now.” Bucky’s warm breath fell on your ears.
Sweat was glistening on your body and you were iridescently glowing in the dark. The small lights were softly reflecting on your body and you were the best Christmas present Bucky could ask for.
His praise, his hand in your hair, the way he was thrusting into you and the small bites he peppered on your skin, made you tip down the crescendo of pleasure.
“I… I’m coming!” That was all the warning you gave before falling down the edge. Your legs shook and eyes rolled back as Bucky kept up his tempo. Bucky grunted as your walls held him tight.
After the mind numbing orgasm, you were panting on the floor and you whimpered when Bucky pulled out of your sensitive pussy. But that’s not what worried you, it was the fact that Bucky was still hard.
Quickly pouncing back on his feet, he once again walked in front of you. You blinked back the haze and realised he was jerking himself off and clearly understood his intent.
It wasn’t the first time, and you obediently closed your eyes and opened your mouth. “Such a good girl.” His voice was husky and you knew he was close.
His debauched moans and grunts were music to your ears. Soon you felt his warm seed coat your face and tongue and drip down to your chest. “Ahh… you look so pretty. A complete masterpiece.”
He knew he wasn’t ever going to forget this scene in front of his eyes. The lights, you on your knees and his cum dripping down your face, you looked like his wildest fantasy come true.
“Are you gonna help me now?” You asked with a fake hint of annoyance. You weren’t going to deny that you loved this impromptu session with Bucky, but neither were you going to accept.
“Just a minute!” With that he sprinted back into your bedroom only to return with his phone. “Gotta capture this moment.” With a grin plastered to his face, he quickly clicked a few photos of you.
Bucky was glad for the technology this modern world had to offer, back in his time this wouldn’t have been possible. Now your serene beauty wasn’t just stored in his memory but in his photo roll too.
In the pictures, wrapped in lights you stood out against the darkness of the room and his cum glistened on your skin. Throwing his phone away on the couch, he bent down to kiss you.
“Thank you for making this the best Christmas of my life. I love you.” He said while gently untangling the strings of light from your hands. It wasn’t just this night, it was everything you had being doing, from the gifts to the decorations.
“I love you Bucky. And this is the best Christmas of my life too because you’re with me.” He had finally freed your hands and legs and standing up, you wrapped your arms around his neck.
Pulling him close, you kissed the tip of his nose. “For this Christmas I just wish you’d be always tied up in the lights. You look so fucking sexy.” He groaned out. You playfully hit him on the back, “Bucky!”
Chuckling he wrapped his arms around you, and despite the cold of the winter, you felt warm in his embrace.
634 notes · View notes
Hi Jo, can you write an enemies to lovers trope with bucky x reader where they have to work undercover as a married couple? Like some fluffy-smutty thing.♡
I know you wrote the same trope long time ago, but I'm such a wh*re for this trope and you're one of my favourite writers out here.
The Perfect Match
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 2,947
Summary: You and Bucky have been undercover as a married couple for months and he's grumpy and you're maybe slightly annoying but you make it work for the mission but what happens when the truth finally comes out...
Author's Note: Hi lovely!!! Thank you so much for this request! Enemies to lovers is such a fun trope! I went a bit overboard with this one and the end went in a specific direction because I got a request for the reader professing their love for Bucky at his bed side after an injury. Also, my friend @hiddles-and-skittles sent me a super cute ask about this amazing coffee mug and I even threw that in! I tied it all together-hopefully well enough haha I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Jobean divider by the lovely @imerdwarf and line dividers by the lovely @skylightlantern
Warnings: Grumpy Bucky, teasing, banter, flirting, sexual tension, cursing, light dirty talk, smut (fingering), violence (I don't go into detail much), mentions of blood, soft fluffy love...IT'S A ROLLERCOASTER RIDE! (That you must be 18+ or older to ride, thanks!)
Gif not mine: Credit goes to @buckysbarnes thank you so much 🥰
The warm morning sunshine wakes you from sleep and you stretch out on the bed before throwing your feet over the edge and grabbing your robe. You can already smell the uplifting aroma of coffee and you start to move faster, already looking forward to enjoying a cup.
When you walk into the kitchen you spot Bucky at the counter, his gaze focused on his phone and his coffee cup in hand.
“Morning Buck,” you chime. “Is there enough for me?”
He doesn’t look your way and instead turns his coffee cup around, the large block letters spelling out “NO,” now facing you.
“Ugh Barnes. You are such a fucking grump, especially in the morning,” you huff. “Are you for real? No more coffee?”
He doesn’t answer so you stomp over to the machine and see that there is in fact more. You grab a mug and fill it, throwing him a dirty look before you open the front door and go out to sit on the porch swing.
You’re almost done with your coffee when Bucky comes out, sitting down next to you and pushing off the porch with his foot to move the swing. He elbows you lightly, smiling and turning his empty mug around to show you the large letters that spell, “YES,” on the other side.
“Oh, so now we can talk?” you ask, elbowing him back but much harder.
“We need to talk about our plan for the party tonight,” he states, dramatically rubbing his arm where you hit him.
Bucky sighs, making his exasperation known.
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” he groans. “And it has nothing to do with coffee. You’ve already finished yours.”
“Thanks Captain Obvious,” you snip, “but since this has nothing to do with our plan for tonight let’s get our talk over with.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and hangs his head.
“We’ve been able to convince everyone that we like each other so far so as long as we keep that up it should be fine and once you get the information you need we can make some excuse to leave,” he says.
“Works for me,” you reply. “What time do I have to be ready?”
“Party starts at 7pm,” Bucky tells you.
You nod and start to shift, ready to go back inside.
“Wait,” Bucky says, stopping you with a soft hand to your knee. “Neighbors.”
You follow his line of sight and see your neighbors from across the street come out to tend to their garden. They both wave and you wave back, leaning into Bucky when he throws his arm around your shoulder.
He kisses the top of your head and dances his fingers up and down your arm as you snuggle on the porch swing.
“How come we don’t have a garden?” you ask, smirking when he looks at you questioningly.
“I didn’t know you wanted one,” he says. “We can plant some stuff if you like.”
“Maybe if we do that everyone will stop asking us when we’re having a baby,” you laugh.
Bucky throws his head back with laughter and you look over at him, noting the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up. He looks carefree and happy and you can’t deny how it makes you feel but rather than say something sweet you get up from the swing.
You lean down and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat.”
The rest of the day goes by without incident and as the time for the party nears you start to get ready, taking a bath before you shower and then trying to decide what to wear. You search the small selection of clothing you’ve brought and realize you don’t know the details of the party.
Rolling your eyes, you walk out of the room and look for Bucky. You knock on the door of his room but he doesn’t answer so you slowly open it and call his name.
Still nothing so you step in and just as you turn your head he walks out of the bathroom in nothing but his towel.
“Did you call me?” he asks, his eyes wandering down your body just as yours do the same to his.
“I uh, yeah,” you mumble. “I don’t know how to dress for this party.”
You look down and realize that you’re only wearing a tee shirt and your underwear.
“Too bad you can’t wear that,” Bucky simpers, eyeing you appreciatively.
You scoff, ignoring the way your skin heats under his gaze.
“Well?” you snap, placing your hands at your hips. “Do I need a dress or what?”
“I think you need more coffee,” he sneers. “Or better yet an attitude check.”
“That doesn’t answer my question Barnes.”
“You should definitely wear a dress,” he says then walks back into the bathroom.
“Ugh! You are insufferable” you puff, mumbling to yourself the whole way back to your room.
Once you finish doing your hair, you add light make up and you take your dress, stepping into it and trying to zip up the back. After several attempts to awkwardly reach the zipper you have no success and surrender to the fact that you’re going to have to ask Bucky for help.
You’re already annoyed so when you find him in the living room, huffing and puffing and throwing couch cushions onto the floor you poke him hard in the side to get his attention.
“What are you doing? You’re making a mess!” you shout.
He grabs your finger, pulling you closer to him with a hiss. “Stop poking me!”
“Stop messing up the couch!”
“I can’t find my favorite knife,” he retorts, releasing your finger and continuing to shuffle through the cushions.
You watch him, not bothering to help and tapping your foot on the ground with impatience. He stops searching and stares at you, his eyebrows drawing together the longer the stand off lasts.
“Why the hell do you keep a knife in the couch cushions?” you ask.
“Just in case!” he answers, getting more agitated.
“Just in case what?” you ask, throwing up your hands.
“Just in case I need to protect you,” he yells.
His admission silences you and you watch as he rubs a hand over his face.
“Why did you come in here? Did you need something?” he questions.
“I need you to zip my dress.”
“Please,” he deadpans.
“What?” you counter, stepping closer to him.
“I need you to zip my dress,” he repeats, adding, “please.”
You cross your arms over your chest and lift your chin in defiance.
“Can you zip my dress, please?” you mock.
The words come out pained and it makes him laugh. He gently takes you by the shoulders and turns you around, closing his fingers around the small zipper and slowly pulling it up. His knuckles brush your skin and you can’t stop the way you shiver at his touch.
He closes the clasp and you turn to face him, whispering, “thanks.”
“What was that?” he asks, leaning toward you.
“THANK YOU!” you shout in his face and stamp off.
“We have to leave in five minutes,” he yells after your retreating form.
After checking yourself in the mirror you put on your shoes and head for the door. Bucky is waiting there and before you walk in you get a long look at him. He looks good. Too good and you want to punch him in the face.
The click of your heels makes him spin around in place, his eyes assessing you once more.
“There you are,” he says, letting his eyes linger before opening the door.
The party is already in full swing when you arrive and Bucky keeps you close, his hand never far from your skin. You lean into his touch, smoothing your hand down his chest or leaning your head against his shoulder. You look like the perfect, happy couple.
“How about a drink?” Bucky asks, pulling you toward the bar.
You keep hold of his hand, letting him order your drink while you scan the room.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers in your ear, his lips brushing the shell and the sensation startles you.
Your head snaps in his direction and you realize how close his face is. Your tongue darts out to trace over your lips before you say, “thank you,” and chug half the drink he hands you.
“I’m sorry I was a dick today,” he continues. “I’m just frustrated.”
You raise your brows in surprise, your eyes wandering over his face as you wait for him to elaborate.
“It’s just…I mean,” he starts, clearly getting flustered. “What the hell is going on with us?”
Your eyes widen and your shocked expression makes him stumble over his words more.
“This has nothing to do with why we’re here,” he goes on. “What I mean is, uh…”
His last sentence trails off when the two of you are interrupted by a ‘friend’ that comes over to say hi. Bucky leans against the bar and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The woman starts chatting you up about an upcoming event in the neighborhood but all you can focus on is the warmth of Bucky’s arm and the soft brush of his fingers at your elbow.
Bucky nods and interjects every so often but you just keep sipping your drink and trying not to make your reaction to his touch too obvious. His hand glides along your side and up to your shoulder where he starts toying with the thin strap of your dress. It falls to the side and he ghosts his fingertips across your bare skin, catching your eye when you tremble slightly.
“Excuse me a moment,” you say quietly. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”
Bucky gives you a quick peck on the cheek and watches you walk away, reluctantly turning back to the conversation. After five minutes passes Bucky starts to worry so he politely excuses himself.
He quickly finds the bathroom and knocks, calling your name while pressing his ear to the door. You unlock it and peer through the small crack.
“Are you ok baby doll?” Bucky asks, concern evident in his features.
“I’m ok,” you whisper, opening it further.
He takes that as an invitation and squeezes in, shutting and locking it behind him.
“You sure?” he asks.
“I want to know what you were going to say before we got interrupted.”
He lets out a breath and takes a tentative step closer. His metal fingers reach out to fix the strap of your dress, his touch delicate as his hand remains and he takes another step toward you.
“I’m sorry I’m always so grumpy and that I make everything difficult for you,” he starts, his legs now pressing against yours in the small bathroom.
“You don’t make things difficult,” you tell him, lifting your fingers to fix the collar of his shirt.
Before you drop your hand he takes it in his and brings your palm to his lips.
“Do you know what it’s like for me to go to sleep every night with you in the next room. How badly I want to go to you, what I want to do to you.”
You open your mouth to speak but he stops you, pressing his lips lightly to yours as he whispers, “I hear you at night. I know you touch yourself while you’re thinking of me.”
Your mouth opens to protest but your words fall away when he slides his tongue across your lips, brushing his thumb over your jaw before kissing you breathless. A moan leaves the back of your throat and he loses any control he had, his metal hand sliding along your inner thigh to lift your dress.
You let your legs fall open and he growls when he brushes his fingers over the wet patch on your underwear. You start to tug his shirt free of his pants, fumbling with the buckle as his fingers explore between your legs, pushing the lace aside and collecting your arousal.
“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he whispers, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, “of how perfect you would feel coming apart on my fingers.”
He teases you with every movement, pulling whimpers from your parted lips as his finger glides over your clit. You grab his wrist and look him in the eye, silently begging for more. He captures your lips just as he slides a single finger inside you, his low groan sending electricity across your skin.
“Tell me baby girl,” he purrs, “do those sweet fingers of yours feel as good as mine?”
Before you can answer he pushes a second finger into you. “Because you feel so much better than I imagined.”
You rock your hips onto his hand and chase your release. His thumb presses to your clit and starts to rub in small circles, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh with each pump of his thick fingers.
“Answer me,” he breathes out.
“No,” you moan, “nothing feels as good.”
“Just wait until I fuck you with my cock baby doll.”
His words push you over the edge and you fall apart on his fingers, your hips stuttering as your release washes over you and he draws out every shuddering breath.
He holds you steady with a strong hand at your waist and slowly removes his hand, lifting his fingers between your bodies and bringing them to his mouth. He holds your heated gaze while he licks them clean.
“And you taste sweeter than sugar,” he croons, licking his lips. “I need more.”
He kneels, hiking the material of your dress up and over your thighs but before he can get his mouth on you there’s a loud knock at the door. You’re startled from your haze and you quickly shift your dress back into place and grab his hand.
“Be right out,” you say, turning on the water in the sink.
“Shit, shit, shit Buck,” you mutter. “We have to get back out there.”
He turns you around in his arms, silencing your continued rambles with a dominating kiss.
“What are you going to say when we open the door?” he asks, a shit eating grin on his face.
“That I wasn’t feeling well after the drinks and you came to check on me. I just needed a minute to sit and gather myself.”
The words sound good when you say them but then you turn to look in the mirror and run your fingertips over your pink and swollen lips. Your dress is rumpled and Bucky’s shirt is still partially untucked.
“It looks like you just fucked me,” you giggle.
His chest presses to your back and his cock throbs along your skin, the feeling making you bite your lips to suppress a moan.
“Just wait until I get the chance,” he promises, slipping his fingers under the hem of your dress.
You bat them away and poke him in the chest. “Fix yourself. We have a job to do first.”
Once he’s decent again you smooth your hands over your dress and open the door, holding your stomach as you walk out.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t feeling well,” you explain to the lady outside the door. “I think I had one too many drinks.”
She eyes you both suspiciously and Bucky gives her a sly smile as he gently guides you down the hallway with a hand at your lower back.
“Do you think it worked?” you ask once you’re clear of the bathroom.
“No way,” he laughs, wrapping you in his arms.
You lean into him. “I never got a chance to tell you anything back there.”
Bucky smiles, his eyes soft but full of mischief. “I’d say I was sorry but I’m not at all.”
You dip your head with a giggle and smooth your hands along his chest. You start to gather your thoughts but before you can get them out, you catch a flash of silver from the corner of your eye. Bucky reacts just a second later but it’s too late.
He shields you with his body even as the injury incapacitates him. His metal arm deflects the next two bullets but you know you need to do something and fast. With quick movements you reach under his pant leg and find his knife. With a deft flick of your wrist, it goes flying through the air and into the neck of your assailant.
The man falls to the floor in a heap and you immediately press your hands against Bucky’s side.
“It’s ok doll,” he grits out. “Call Sam.”
You keep pressure on the wound with one hand, ignoring the screams of the people around you and the stream of tears running down your cheeks and make the call.
After what feels like hours you finally feel Bucky stir next to you.
“Hey doll face,” he says hoarsely. “You ok?”
Your eyes water and instead of saying a word you kiss him softly on the lips. Your fingers trace his jaw, trailing over the dark hair that lines his cheeks and then you kiss him again. On the lips, on the cheeks, on the nose. You pepper him with kisses all over his face until he’s bright eyed and smiling.
“I’m fine,” you tell him when you finally stop kissing him. “Now that I know you’re ok.”
“Never been better,” he murmurs, cradling your cheek and pulling you down for another kiss.
@book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @marvelgirl7 @musicalmuffindog1410 @dreamlessinparis @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @starlightcrystalline @moongreydreams @suchababie @tumblin-theworldaway
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pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: alpine just wants her parents back together.
author's note: gif credit to @/sebastiansource.
Alpine never scratched things.
Well, not never, but she never did it often. She was a good cat. A smart cat. One that, as of lately, had started scratching too many things.
“What are you doing on the counter?”
“I know you’re not on the fridge, Alpine. You better not — get down right now!”
“If you even think about touching that package — Alpine!”
And then, you came home one day to find your couch, your favorite gray couch completely torn apart.
“What’s gotten into you? Huh?”
You stared at her.
She sunk into the corner.
“What? Now, you’re gonna act all innocent? You weren’t so innocent when you were —“
You stared at her a little more.
Realized who’s side of the couch she was sinking into.
“You miss him?”
“I know you miss him, but you can’t be doing this, okay?”
“Hey, don’t you —“
And started scratching the couch again.
“Okay, I’ll text him! God, you spoiled little —“
He showed up ten minutes after the text. Maybe that was your fault. hey, can u come over? was a very vague text. One that could imply that you needed him right away. He would think of that first.
Or maybe he would think that you had finally broken the hot water because it’s a million degrees out, baby. why are you boiling in the tub like a crab?
You’d always glare at him.
Can I get in?
That’d always make you laugh.
“She misses you,” you say the second you open the door.
Bucky stares at you.
“I miss her too.”
“Alpine. I’m talking about —“
Good. You made that clear.
Alpine was at his feet in seconds. Even before he had fully walked through the door and that you made you smile. She always was too attached to him, so this whole scratching fiasco shouldn’t have surprised you.
It was only a matter of time.
“Plants are still alive, I see.”
You rolled your eyes.
A part of you wanted to comment on how it’s only been two weeks. Two weeks and how nothing could die in two weeks, but that would’ve been a lie. Things died for you guys in two hours.
And to be honest, you’d much rather not think of the time.
“How’s my favorite girl been?”
Your head snapped to him.
“I was talking to —“
“I know,” you snapped back. “I know you were.”
Damn, that was embarrassing.
Maybe it was better if you went to your room. Stayed in there. That way you wouldn’t have to be in his presence or hear his voice or look at his face because fuck, did he look good. Why did he have to look good? Who came to their ex’s house looking good?
Because Bucky was stupid and he liked to do stupid things to your heart.
You went to your room.
But did peek out every so often.
To check on Alpine. That’s it.
At first you saw him scratching her head the way she likes. Then saw him playing with her the way she also likes. She curled up to his chest the third time you peeked out. Of course. Then, by the fourth time, you saw them both fast asleep.
Yeah, that was bound to happen.
They always had the tendency to fall asleep like that. Right there too. You’ve remembered coming home one too many times, finding them passed out on the couch with the TV buzzing in the background.
It was your favorite.
Not because Alpine always had a paw to his cheek, but because you’d always find a way to squeeze yourself in there too.
I’m home, Buck.
It took three hours for them to wake up.
Really, the only reason Bucky started stirring was because he heard the laundry go off. That stupid chime could haunt him in his dreams and he hated it.
Brought him too many flashbacks of his time in service and how fucking picky his superiors were about neat clothing. Even though, they never had it like this back then, he still hated it.
You turned around, “Uh - I’m good. I think I —“
“C’mon. I know how much you hate putting the sheets on.”
It took less than a minute when he helped.
That was annoying and you barged out of the room to grab the pillow cases you somehow left on the dryer.
Which was evidently the perfect time for Alpine to strut in and start scratching a box.
“Alpine, you can’t keep doing this. It’s not —”
Bucky stopped when he noticed a very familiar looking black t-shirt in the box. In fact, he noticed a couple other very familiar articles of clothing as well.
So, that's where they’ve all been.
Used too. They didn’t smell much like him anymore.
Bucky also noticed a familiar chain hanging around your neck when you asked him to stay for dinner. You’re here, you might as well eat something before you go. Besides, Alpine might destroy the curtains if you leave.
He stayed and helped in the kitchen like he always did.
Meaning he stared at you. Stood a little too close to you and brought his hand up to the chain when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean too —”
“It’s okay. It’s uh - you want it back?”
He stared at you.
“I can give it back. I know how much you…” you trailed off. “Just wanted to keep it safe. Safe keeping is all.”
Bucky didn’t say anything.
He took the knife from you though and asked you to check on Alpine.
You did. Didn’t come back into the room until everything was finished and even when you did, things felt quiet. Off. You went to take a seat at the table and he pulled you into his lap instead.
Your hands instantly went around his neck.
He nudged his head towards your neck.
“It’s yours. I don’t ever want it back.”
“Remember earlier when I said I miss her too?”
“I wasn’t talking about Alpine.”
You knew that.
“I miss you, baby,” he cleared up. “And I’m sorry about the —“
“Me too,” you instantly said, recalling the stupid event from two weeks ago. “Me too, Buck. Me too.”
“Let’s not fight like that again, yeah?” he touched your hair. "We don’t talk to each other like that.”
“Yeah, we don’t. Never again.”
Then Alpine strolled into the room and scratched Bucky's leg. You didn’t miss me. Yeah, you knew she would’ve heard that and you laughed. It eased the heaviness of the room. Only the heaviness in the room because Bucky’s heaviness didn’t quite fade until you rested your head on his chest.
Right over his heart.
“That’s yours too,” he said.
Alpine was a very smart cat.
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Y/N: Where’s Sam?
Bucky: He’s not my boyfriend!
Y/N: ... I never said he was?
Bucky: Oh, haha, awkward.
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oh i most DEFINETLY need c!bucky x reader making a sex tape
I need that too😩 thank you for this request, bestie✨
word count: 3.2k
warnings: smut, dirty talk, sex on film, finger sucking, slight spitting, squirting, fingering, slight masturbation f and m
tags: @bucky-soldat @thewritingdoll @meetmeatyourworst @sparksforkoo @fuckandfluff @buckydaddy @harrysthiccthighss @bemine-bucky @greeneyedblondie44 @stucky-my-ship
a/n: This contains slight feels because I couldn’t resist a sweet tone before the raunchiness and after.🙈
Meeting Bucky in college is one of the highlights of your life. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you knew you were gone, lost in the sea of blue that sparkles with mischief. His smile, his laugh, his utter presence is enough to make you feel overwhelmingly infatuated. And he’s just as hooked on you as you are him.
You give him a high that every drug he’s tried couldn’t compare to. You’re so kind, sweet, innocent. But, Bucky knows you better than anyone and he found out real quick that the doe eyed look, the sugar coated tone, the cute pinks and pastels that adorned your sinfully curved body weren’t the extent of you.
You’re a vixen. Craving sex just as much as him. It started one night in your dorm, lazily watching a movie with wandering hands and soft touches. You two didn’t fuck, no, he made love to you. Cherishing the way your warm walls sucked him in, the way he felt your soft breath on his neck each time he filled you to the brim, brushing that sensitive spot inside you each time. Bucky poured every ounce of passion he has for you into those thrusts that night.
Each day you spend together, the closer you both become. Bucky’s your friend, your lover, your heart and you came to trust each other with anything and everything. The sex became more frequent and adventurous. He’s tied you up, slapped you, fucked you as if you were nothing but a doll for him to empty himself in. No matter if he’s rough and degrading, if he’s sweet and soft, you want every form of the pleasure only he can give you.
When he comes to you with an old school camcorder in hand asking if you would make a tape with him...how can you resist? The thought of being exposed to a lens for Bucky’s viewing pleasure has your core thrumming with anticipation. “Of course I will, Buck.”
You’re standing in the middle of the courtyard when he voices his idea to you. Students drift along around you, making their way to their next class not paying you two a bit of mind. He takes his lip between his teeth, trying to bite back a grin that’s trying to form. “Oh, baby. This will be so hot.” He groans, pulling you in by your waist.
Bucky brings his mouth to your ear. His warm breath breaks across your skin as he whispers, “You’re gonna look so beautiful for the camera as I pound that tight cunt.”
Heat breaks out along your body as he says the crude words. You playfully shove his firm body away from you. “Bucky, we’re in public,” you smile.
“Hasn’t stopped us before, sweets.”
You scoff at him. He’s right. The amount of times he’s taken you in the library and in every janitor's closet he can find is embarrassingly high. You always fall victim to his touch, no matter when or where. “Get to class, Barnes. I’ll meet you at your dorm later tonight, okay?”
With a quick kiss goodbye, you watch as he makes his way to the history building with the bulky camera in his hand. It’s hard to tell where he found that thing. He’s always had a knack for vintage items. It’s very fitting of him to want to incorporate something like that in the bedroom. And you can’t wait to try it out.
Night settles over the campus. The dim sidewalk lights illuminate your path as you sneak over to Bucky’s dorm. You always take the back entrance with the key your conniving boyfriend somehow got his hands on. Bucky has the key to your dorm as well, each of you taking turns during the week visiting one another.
As you make your way up the stairs to his floor, you can already feel arousal strumming through you. You’re excited to create something so debauched with him. You have a suspicion that Bucky doesn’t want this tape to be gentle and loving tonight. Which makes you all the more needy and wet at the prospect of being fucked.
Knocking on his door gently, you wait for his answer. You hear shuffling before the ugly wooden door swings open revealing a practically naked Bucky. He’s wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs that cut off above his mid thigh. It’s moments like these that he leaves you utterly breathless. His lean body stares back at you, beckoning you to run your hands over the expanse of his abs, his chest. You just want to sink your teeth into those thighs. Wrap your mouth around that slight tint straining against the fabric.
“How many times have I told you not to knock? My place is your place.”
His voice brings you back from your wondering thoughts. “Buck, you know I don’t want to just barge in here unannounced.” You say, walking past him and into the small dorm. His smell envelopes you and settles so deep in you, you swear you can feel it in your bones. Warm notes of amber and a slightly citrus aroma is what makes Bucky, Bucky. You’ll never get enough of his scent. He’s compelling in every sense of the word.
His bed is bare. Nothing but a mattress sits on the wooden frame. You quickly see where all the blankets and pillows went. There, across the room, sits his comforter and throws on the floor, meticulously placed with care to look inviting. His pillows are propped up against the wall creating a little cove hidden in the low light of his lamp. A makeshift tripod compiled of books sits at the end of the comforter near his TV stand with the camcorder opened and ready sitting on top of his world history textbook.
You feel him slip his arms around your waist, pulling you into his warm body. Bucky dips his head down to your ear. “You can’t really do much in a twin bed. Figured if I was gonna make a sex tape with my beautiful girl...I’d need all the room I can get.” You lean into him, appreciating the thought.
Bucky always plans ahead when it comes to you. He wants nothing but the best for you. He can’t wait to graduate college, get his degree and give you the life you deserve. A life where he gets to fuck you in a king sized bed instead of the stiff twin beds in your dorms and, in this case, the floor he desperately tried to make comfortable.
“It looks lovely. Leagues better than these dumb beds.” You tell him as you turn in his grasp. Leaning in, you take his lips with your own, slowly moving in time with each other before he deepens it. The feel of his tongue against yours has your panties dampening. Each lick into your mouth has you chasing more of his taste.
You kick off your sneakers as he pulls your sweats down, not once breaking the kiss until he pulls away to get your tee over your head. Bucky’s chest seizes. You look heavenly with your naked breasts bared to him, with your white panties adorning a tiny pink bow accentuating your mound and hips and your little white ankle socks.
Your beauty is something he only witnesses when he watches the rain, when he looks at a field of flowers, when he glances up at the night sky and sees the twinkling stars above. It causes him to pause and wonder how God created something so painfully intricate that makes his heart stop and makes all his thoughts cease to exist as fascination takes its place.
You watch as Bucky takes you in with a slack jaw and a glaze in his eyes. Just barely above a whisper he chokes out, “You’re beautiful.”
He tells you millions of times how attractive you are and shows you his love just as many times. But, this. This seems heavier. Those two words have a weight of longing to them, a weight of pure awe and admiration. Your love for him just grew, something you thought would be impossible because Bucky Barnes is perfect in all aspects of life.
“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, my pretty girl.”
His words hold a sick promise as he leads you down to the floor on the bed of blankets. He props himself against the wall and beckons you to join him. You situate yourself between his firm thighs, feeling the hardness of his dick against the small of your back. You lean into him as he pulls your hair to the side, giving him perfect access to latch onto your neck.
“Take off your panties,” he whispers against your flesh. His mouth licks and sucks at every part of your heated skin he can get to.
You roll the sticky fabric down your legs as you eye the camera placed directly in front of the both of you. When you fully peel your underwear off, Bucky’s legs twine with yours, pulling you apart and spreading you open for the lens. “Spit on your cunt. Get her nice and wet for me.”
Oh God. His instructions cause you to clench around nothing. You bend your head down to spit towards your pussy, watching as the saliva slowly trails over your mound and down over your lips. Leaning back against him, Bucky emits a groan as you see his hand slide down your body, creating little goose bumps along the expanse of your skin before his fingers dip down to your core. You moan at the feel of his fingers rubbing slowly and purposely over your swollen clit.
With each twist of his wrist, you’re whimpering, chasing his movements with your hips. Heat takes you over, sparking at the base of your spine before inching its way towards your neck as his friction gets a little rougher. Suddenly, his fingers breach your opening, the middle and ring giving you a delicious stretch. Each drag against your walls has your thighs trembling from the sheer pleasure.
Bucky grasps your face with his free hand and angles your head to the camcorder. “Keep your eyes on the camera, baby. Want you to fall apart for it. Can you do that?”
A strangled, yes leaves your lips as you bask in the ecstasy he’s bringing you. His grip keeps you in place as he takes you apart. The thrusts of his fingers become harsher, more frantic as wetness spills from your drenched center, causing obscene noises to bounce off the walls.
You can’t run from his assault, he’s got you pinned against him fully, one hand buried in your pussy while the other holds a vice-like grip on your cheeks. His mouth continues to work over your neck, biting and sucking as he brings you closer and closer to your impending climax. You’ve never been so worked up and this orgasm is starting to feel vastly different than the others.
“Bucky,” you cry, “Bucky, stop. I can’t. It’s too much.”
“How are you gonna take my cock when you can’t even take my fingers? Just let go, baby.”
The pressure is building with each thrust of his hand. His pace gets rougher causing your chest to bounce violently and cries to escape your throat. Your shaking, abdomen pulling taut as his fingers hit that spot inside you just right and that pressure releases, forcing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.
Bucky watches in awe as you squirt for him, trembling in his hold as the clear liquid seeps from your abused cunt. “Oh, fuck. Look at that. My girl’s a squirter.” He says against your neck, but he knows you probably can’t understand anything he utters to you at the moment.
He rubs his hand along the length of your drenched heat, soothing you from your intense high. Tremors wrack your body with each pass of his hand over your swollen bud. Your head rolls to the side on Bucky’s shoulder as he peppers kisses all along the side of your throat and face.
He brings his wet digits to your mouth, rubbing them along your bottom lip before you open and take them between your lips. You lick and suck, tasting your juices on his soft skin. He fucks your mouth with his fingers, watching as you take them down your throat, gagging slightly. It causes his dick to twitch as he feels the sweet suction of your mouth.
He takes them out, already missing the feeling of your tongue dancing along the pads of his fingers. “You’ve been keeping that hidden from me?” He chuckles near your ear, causing a smile to break across your blissed out expression.
“I didn’t even know I could do that...those hands of yours work wonders.”
“Mmm. That they do. You got one more for me, pretty girl?”
Are you capable of cumming again? You honestly don't know. Every nerve feels shot, your head hazy with Bucky invading all of your senses. But, with him, you know you won’t last long when he buries himself inside you. He’s too good at sex, too good at making you feel whole and sated. You don't know if it’s him, or if it's you and how infatuated you are with him that makes him talented in the sheets. Whatever the case, cumming will always be in your foreseeable future. No matter if you think you can or not.
“Yes,” you breathe, “want to feel you in me.”
Bucky lays you down sideways, making sure you’re both angular to the lens before he discards his boxers. He's impossibly hard, an ache settles in the pit of his stomach as he takes in your body beneath his. Your cunt is puffy, thighs shining with your arousal, the blankets are soaked under your form. You’re gorgeous when you cum for him, submit to him and give him your pleasure.
You watch as he moves his hand languidly over his shaft, his tip red and leaking, veins straining against the soft skin. His mouth hangs agape as your hands move to grasp your breasts, pushing and pulling them together to give him a little show. Bucky groans as you continue to play with your full chest. He can’t take anymore of the foreplay, he needs you wrapped around him.
He taps your clit a few times with his swollen head, causing you to let out a squeal and shake with each light smack. It doesn’t take much to get his cock wet, no. Your pussy is practically crying, begging for him to give her that stretch she needs.
Bucky lines himself up to your entrance. He takes his sweet time entering you, watching intently as you try to accommodate his length, basking in the huffs of frustration because you just need him to fill you to the hilt. You’re squeezing him so tight. He can’t believe how wet you are. He believes you enjoy this little camera idea a little too much. Filthy girl. His filthy girl.
“Buck...move. Please,” you pant.
With a slow roll of the hips, he’s pulling himself out before plunging back into you with a pointed thrust that sends you jolting back. “Fuck, just like that,” you tell him. He continues the gentle movements with the rough snaps of his hips that have you gasping and clinging on to him. You keen with each stroke, your hands make their way down towards his ass, gripping and shoving him deeper inside you.
Bucky pulls back to unhook your legs from his waist. He grabs the backs of your knees, folding your legs back slightly so he gets a good look at where you’re connected. Sitting on his knees, he starts a punishing pace. The angle he has you at, you can’t move away from his onslaught. His fucking you with vigor, his grunts filling the space around you.
“Such a pretty pussy. Always look so good stuffed with my cock, baby.”
Your toes start to curl, legs aching from his hold and from their suspension in the air. As he continues his erratic pace, your climax grows with each pointed thrust that hits a spot inside you only he can reach. Out of nowhere, he halts his movements and pulls out of you.
“Bucky,” you whine. You need him back inside you to dim the ever growing heat.
“Hold on, sweets. Don’t worry, you’ll have your cock and cum on it too.”
You eye him as he leans over to grab the camcorder. He’s holding it in his hands now, angling it to point at your mound. He slides in you once more, filling you up immediately, giving you that full feeling you so desperately need.
Leaning back on his knees, he tells you, “Ride my dick, baby. Fuck yourself.”
A moan escapes you. You do as he said. Using your heels as leverage, you start to move yourself up and down on his thick shaft as he sits perched on his knees and records the scene unfolding before his eyes. “Yeah, just like that. Want you to cum like this. Wanna feel those wet walls pulse.”
Your hand goes down to circle your clit much to Bucky’s pleasure. He loves watching you get yourself off, especially filled full with his leaking cock. Your arousal slides down to his heavy balls. This is torture, for him and you. But, he knows watching you fall apart while using him will be worth it and you know that this orgasm is going to tear through you.
It’s too erotic. Using him to get yourself off while he sits and watches through that square screen. It has you quickening your movements. You’re unhinged as you hump against him, swirling fingers aiding in bringing you to your peak. The coil is tightening with each buck of your hips, winding up until you're shaking. You pull taut as you sink down on him, filling yourself up as your orgasm courses through your body. Tears swell in your eyes as the intense high takes over.
Bucky can’t handle this anymore. The feel of your walls fluttering around him, like a constant heartbeat, almost makes him spill his seed into you right then. He tosses the camcorder to the side, not caring to capture anymore footage for the night. He braces his hands above your head and starts to rut into you fiercely, chasing his climax.
Now it’s you who let’s him use your body for his pleasure. You lay pliant underneath him as he buries his face into your neck, biting into you to muffle his cries of pleasure as you feel warmness fill up your sore, overworked pussy. You rub his damp back, letting him relax against you as he empties himself.
You hold him to you, enjoying the feel of his weight pinning you to the floor as you both try to catch your breaths. “You did so good for me,” Bucky whispers. He pushes your hair off your face before kissing your lips. It’s slow and sloppy, all tongue and no effort. He pulls out off you and watches as his cum leaks out of your center.
“I’ll never get tired of filling you up.” He groans as he moves to get you a cloth to clean you up.
You lay there and stare at the ceiling for a moment before he returns, pressing the warm hand towel against you, ridding you of his spend. It’s a shame really. You want to stay filled with him. He picks you up and carries you to the mattress. Placing you down on the less than comfortable twin bed, he goes to his closet again to retrieve a spare blanket.
“Luckily, I have plenty of covers. Mom made sure of that.”
You smile as he climbs in the small bed with you. He presses you against his chest as the fuzzy blanket covers your naked forms. Even without pillows and a sheet, you feel yourself drifting off in Bucky’s embrace. He’s your source of contentment. Your beacon. Your everything. You don’t ever want to leave his side. Not when he’s this warm.
403 notes · View notes
bartender!bucky with line 40 from list 2 pls for the sleepover
side bar — bucky barnes
pairing ~ bartender!bucky x ceo!reader
warnings ~ smut, minors, no plot just bucky having a big dick, slight hate-fucking, friends with benefits but the benefits are they have feelings for each other but don’t want to admit it, degradation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), bathroom sex, choking kink, bucky barnes with a shady past
40) "I hate your voice, but god I love hearing you beg."
Bucky Barnes wished he knew how he always ended up between your thighs because at this point, it was becoming an addiction. Endless nights of working the bar called Double Cross, owned by his ex-girlfriend had led him to you. He was lucky to even have a job with the trouble he had gotten in when he was younger, but after losing an arm and evading prison, Bucky had reached out to Nat (who was apparently dating her best friend now? That was definitely a curve ball) and she had gotten him this job.
It was where he met you, and you…well, you weren’t like him except you also spent most your nights in this upperclass bar. However, you didn’t work, you played. Well, sometimes you worked then played. Being the CEO of Shield International meant lots of business drinks with your shareholders, which you did here. As well as bringing a string of dates that always end with you getting fucked, just not by the men and women you brought.
“Still can’t find a guy to give it to like I can, can you?”Bucky growled, pressing your back against the door of the bathroom. His break had started five minutes ago and you had pulled him into the bathroom with no hesitation, your date was still waiting for you to return to dinner.
“Shut the fuck up, Barnes,”You murmured against his lips, tugging off his leather jacket and throwing it over one of the stall doors. It left in black shirt that accentuated the muscles of his biceps. You dipped your hands under his shirt, fingering dancing over his abs before you’re pulling the black shirt off of him. You can’t help but admire him briefly, keeping yourself from drooling over him,”We both know the only reason I keep coming back is that massive cock of yours.”
Bucky smirked, enjoying how you stroked his ego and managed to insult him.”You’re a fucking bitch, and I’m gonna fuck you like one.”
“Good, that’s what I came here for.”
A sly smile blinked across his features before there’s the metal hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whine. His dominance makes you ache for more, clenching your thighs together for some kind of friction.
“But only if you beg for it,”Bucky whispered, lips brushing against yours teasingly.”Like a good little slut, cause that’s what you are. My slut, crawling back every night to get my cock. You love it so much, beg for it.”
You glared at Bucky with piercing eyes, heaving your chest as you tried to breath around his grip.”Please.”
You bit down on your bottom lip, eyes turning from the dark gaze to more begging as you realized he was serious,”Please, Bucky, I want your cock.”
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.”I don’t think you deserve it, maybe I should put you on your knees and use that loud mouth as my personal fleshlight, huh?”
“Fuck me, please,”You begged more desperately, the aching between your thighs overwhelming your need to be the one in power.”God, Bucky, you’re the only guy that makes me cum, please, give it to me, want you to fuck me like a dirty slut, right here, right now. Please, Sarge, use me,”You grasp the forearm of the metal, batting your lashes at him for more effect.”Use me like the slut I am, till all I can think about is that perfect cock, please.”
Bucky can’t help but moan at your desperate words, loosening his grip around you throat with lustful look in his eyes, "I hate your voice, but god I love hearing you beg."
It doesn’t take long for him to push your dress up your hips and shove your over the sink. You can look yourself in the mirror, lips falling open with a gasp when Bucky ripped the panties from your body. He squeezed the flesh of your ass, licking his lips in anticipation before he’s shoving his own pants down. You feel his cock against your folds, thick shaft rubbing through your slick arousal before he’s prodding at your twitching hole.
Slowly, the head of his cock breached your cunt, gasping when he continues to push forward. Your hands grip the sides of the sink, clenching the hard marble as Bucky stretched your tight pussy with his massive cock.
“Fuck, nothing compares to being inside this sweet pussy,”Bucky groaned, an iron grip on the flesh of your hips. His cool metal hand sent shivers up spine, causing you to arch your back as he inched his hand up to grasp the back your neck.”No one gets you like this, huh? No one knows what a filthy fucking whore you are, but me. Isn’t that right?”
“Y-yeah, fuck,”You mewled when his hips rammed in and out of you, like a jackhammer destroying your cunt.”God, your cock is a fucking gift.”
“And all yours,” uttered Bucky, his grip tightening around your neck with primal groan ripping from the back of his throat. His flesh hand slipped under your body, two fingers circling over that sensitive bud. His sinful actions draw a moan from your lips and your body to tremble.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Bucky pounded his hips forward, his harsh snapping movement were bruising your ass but you don’t care. All you care about is that bliss you wanna chase off the edge and it’s so close with the dual stimulation.
You cried out, pushing your ass back against each of his thrusts as if he was doing enough to please you.
“Such a greedy fucking slut, fucking yourself on my fat cock,”Bucky rasped, laying his chest flush against your back and ran his hand down your body until he’s groping your breasts in one hand and the other is rubbing your pussy until you see stars. You’re so close, on the verge of pure ecstasy￼. You’re doing nothing to conceal your moans of Bucky’s name, and he loves it. He loves the idea of everyone in this fucking building knowing he’s got you crying on his cock.
Bucky threw his head back in euphoria, your walls squeezing his cock so tightly,”Shit, I’m gonna fill this tight pussy , you’re gonna spend the rest of night with my cum soaking your cute cunt and you’re gonna take it like a good girl because that’s what you are, my good little cockslut.”
“Give it to me, Barnes,”You mewled, his lips trailing over your jaw.”Please, please, want you to fill my pussy till it’s dripping, make me yours.”
Bucky’s thrusts only got harder, more primal and fast-paced. You shivered under him, eyes unfocusing as you both shared your euphoria at the same time. His cock spilled inside you and he kept fucking into you, making sure he pumped you full over cum. You cried out his name, tears falling down your cheek in pleasure.
His thrusts slow, easing in and out of your pussy until he stills completely. He turned your head, lips finding to in a heat of passion. He held you in his arms, just enjoying this fleeting moment of intimacy. You both pull away slowly, sharing a soft look before you and Bucky snap out of it.
Bucky cleared his throat, withdrawing from your embrace with flushed cheeks. He inched out of your cunt, enjoying the fact that you’ll be dripping with his seed the entire night. He gave your ass a small smack before his buttoning his pants back up.
“Break’s over, I gotta go,”Bucky told you, glancing over you as you pull your dress back down.
“You closing?”You asked hesitantly with an almost soft smile before handing him his jacket and shirt back from where you had discarded it.
He pulled you by the waist back into him, taking his shirt but leaving you with a hard kiss.”I am, you gonna be around?”
“Depends how my date goes,”You told him with a sad smile, swallowing thickly at the awkward mention.
“You hates all your dates, makes me wonder if you come here for something else,”Bucky wondered with a smirk.
“Maybe I do,”You told him, shrugging as if you weren’t sure. You do know. You never come back because you like the bar or the food, but rather the company it has to offer. You step away from him,”Better get back to work, I don’t what I’ll do if you get fired.”
“Have fun with your date, hope he doesn’t realize you’ve got another man’s cum dripping down your thighs,”Bucky teased, kissing you harshly one last time.”But hey, if you get bored, you know where to find me.”
“Don’t worry,”You uttered against his lips with a smile,”I’ll alway find you, Barnes.”
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this game | bucky barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x female reader
summary: you hated him and he hated you, so why does he always crash girls night with the hopes of finally taking you home.
warnings: “enemies” to first kiss, fluff, fake hatred for each other, cuss words
You step out from your car and gather your things. You are late to dinner with a few friends so you walk as fast as your heels allow. You finally reach the restaurant and make your way inside, you lock eyes with one of your girlfriends and make your way over to them.
You stop dead in your tracks as you realize your best friend has brought her boyfriend Sam and seemingly enough, his best friend Bucky tagged along.
You can’t help but roll your eyes as you were not expecting girls night to be ruined by these two idiots.
You meant no offense to Sam. Sam is great, he’s great to your best friend and that’s all that matters.
Bucky on the other hand... You are not a fan. Literally. He’s cocky and arrogant. He is one of those guys who knows he’s attractive and he uses it to get what he wants.
Look, just cause he’s an avenger and saves the world every now and then doesn’t make him the coolest, most attractive, perfect, person ever.
Well that’s what you tried to tell yourself.
You knew deep deep down that you had a slight crush on Bucky. Slight.
But absolutely hell to the no will that ever reach the surface let alone be something that is ever discussed.
So you will continue your silent hatred for him as a way to cope with the fact you just want to run your hands through his hair and kiss his perfectly sculpted lips.
“Y/N!” The girls cheer as you approach the table. You give a smile and wave and sit down. Of course the only open seat is the one beside Bucky but you pay him no mind as you throw your purse and jacket down.
“Nice of you to show up.” He scoffs in your direction.
Bucky shares similar feelings to you. He isn’t necessarily your biggest fan either. It’s a mutual hate you have for each other and it’s fine. You both respect it.
“Nice of you to crash girls night... again.” You fire back. He cocks his head in your direction and raises an eyebrow at you.
Jesus. Sometimes he’s too attractive. You roll your eyes at him and turn to your other friends. You make your way through dinner and Bucky and you have simultaneously ignored each other. It’s been great. Your best friend and Sam kept being overly affectionate despite receiving boos and moans from the table. The time comes to pay and you realize you forgot your wallet at work.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself. Bucky hears your comment and glances up at you.
“Something wrong?” He asks with an eyebrow raised again. His Brooklyn accent so fucking pretentious. Sometimes you just wanna shove him against a wall and...
“Yes. Well no. It’s nothing. I just forgot my wallet at work.” You begin to brush him off and ask one of your other friends to help cover your tab up when Bucky grabs your check. You try to grab it back and he pushes your hand away.
“James.” You say with your sternest voice.
“Chill, doll.” His voice sharper than yours. You sit back and sigh. Sometimes he isn’t worth fighting. The waiter returns and you all say your goodbyes.
You and Bucky seemed to have parked on the same street so you walk silently together. You approach your car and you turn to thank him again for buying your dinner.
“I can Venmo you.” You attempt to open your door and grab your phone but instead stop yourself as you hear him chuckle to himself. You turn back around at him very confused.
“You’re such a fucking idiot.” He whispers but loud enough you can make out each syllable.
“Excuse me?” You question why the fuck he just insulted you like that.
“You don’t need to pay me back. It’s fine.” He continues laughing to himself and you are utterly confused.
“What is so funny?” You cross your arms and use his own eyebrow trick against him.
“You. You are funny. This game we play is funny.” He continues on.
“Game? What ga-“ You attempt to say back but suddenly his hand wraps around the back of your head and pulls you into him. Your lips crash against each other. His kiss is hard and possessive and you can’t help but instinctively wrap your hands in his hair.
Ah. It’s as soft as you thought it would be. He deepens the kiss and you let out a small moan into his mouth. You can feel him smirk against your lips. His hands have made their way from the side of your face, to your hips. His aggressive hold on your hips is enough to make your head spin. He finally pulls back for air and smirks at you.
“I knew it.” He continues his smirk.
“Fuck off” You scoff at him and try to regain your composure. You gently push him away from you but his grip on your hips is too tight. He laughs at your attempt and leans back in and places a soft kiss on your forehead.
“I knew you liked me.” He smiles and pulls away.
“You’re the one who kissed me!” You exclaim and he chuckles.
“Yeah and?” He raises an eyebrow at you.
Game. Fucking. On.
“So that’s it? Just the one kiss?” You question and he tilts his head in confusion.
“What you want more, baby girl?” He growls.
“Come back to my apartment.” You demand.
A wide smile emerges on his face and he turns to run to his car. You practically race each other back to your place and enjoy a long awaited night together.
a/n: enjoy this random fluffy piece hehe <3
taglist: @marvel-ous-miss-maisie | @stucky-my-ship | @dancer3205 | @capmanranger | @wooyugta | @marvelfansworld | @heretokilltime | @russosprettydiamondnow | @voguesir | @silentkiller2374 | @igotnoname4thisblog | @sunflowerfive | @smokeinherperfume | @daybleedsintonightfa11 | @granpafrisbee | @straightforwardly
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Beggin’: One Shot
Summary: How is it you’ve managed to get this proud soldier on his knees?
Pairing: 40′s!Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,100
Warnings: Some 1940′s lovin’, and some good, old fashioned fluff <3 SMUT. 18+ ONLY PLEASE.
A/N: I’ve never written 40′s!Bucky before! This was so fun to do, especially because he’s such a charmer. Feedback is always appreciated! <3
Everyone has their little secrets; a clandestine hobby they get to keep all to themselves.
For some people, it’s a gambling, others it’s booze. Some people are just a bit too nosey for their own good.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Sergeant Barnes to some, Bucky to others. Though to you, he’ll always just be James—your James.
It started out like a lot of illicit romances do; a shy, seemingly innocent girl catches the eye of a well-known libertine. Across a crowded Brooklyn diner, a smile is shared between the two strangers, acting as an invitation for further conversation.
Next thing you knew, James is taking a seat on the red leather stool next to you, his smile wider than the Hudson.
“Hey, pretty girl.” He crooned. “I can’t imagine how a gal like you is sitting alone on a Saturday night.”
You smiled back, trying not to swoon over his looks and charm, or the way his eyes lit up when they met yours. “When you don’t have a fella to take you out, sometime you just have to treat yourself.”
He mulled over your words a moment, his body fully facing you. “No fella, huh? A dame like you? That’s a crime, Honey.”
Your scarlett painted fingertips find his lapel, fixing a wonky medal that was pinned to it. “You in the business of going to jail, Sarge?”
He grabbed your hand gently, squeezing it. “Can’t say that I am, Doll.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly. “I’m James Barnes, friends call me Bucky.”
“Y/N. Nice to meet you James.” You say with emphasis, lips closing around the straw you fiddled with, sipping your cola.
He cocked an eyebrow at you.
“What? You’d want us just be friends?” You say with a flirtatious lilt in your voice. “‘Cause I had somethin’ else in mind.”
His eyes widen for a moment—in awe at the brazenness of your words. It wasn’t often he was left speechless while trying to chat a girl up. It turned him on more than he cared to admit.
“Well then, what are we waitin’ for?”
Since you’d met, things had been nothing short of sinful.
He’d call on you almost every night, climbing up the fire escape to you bedroom at the boarding house. 3 quick raps at the glass, and you knew it was him.
Sometimes in his uniform; freshly pressed and still smelling like the tobacco that all those men at the recruiting office smoked. Other times he was in slacks and a white undershirt.
None of that mattered, because when he was with you, he was yours.
The way his hands roamed your body, committing it to memory. How he would sink to his knees for you was something akin to worship.
It was in moments like this that the truth came to light--you were his, as much as he was yours.
“Honey…” his voice dripped with the sweet nectar he liked to call you.
As his palms gripped your waist, his rough fingers skimming over the lace of your undergarment. He rubbed his large hands back and forth over your hips, pulling you flush with him.
“You feel what you do to me, darlin’?” He asked with bedroom eyes.
and oh, you felt it.
His rock hard member rubbing against your stomach.
The jangling of his belt buckle was heard next, along with the thump of it hitting the wooden floor. “Shh, don’t want the neighbors knowing what I’m doing to you, do we?”
Bucky bit his lip, scooping you up. He carried you bridal style and sat you on the edge of your four post bed. You’ll never get tired of this view; the lust in his eyes, the swollen lips, the flush to his cheeks.
This big, strong soldier turned to putty in your hands. Turns out, James Barnes has just one weakness in this world.
…and he’s nestled between her legs.
“You’re something special, James.” It comes out as a moan. Wanton and desperate as his lips pepper the inside of your thighs with kisses.
You feel him smile against the sensitive flesh there, his fingertips making dimples in your hips.
He hooks his thumbs under the white lace hiding your heat and pulls it down, exposing you to his starving eyes. “Look at you, Angel…” he teases. “How long you been waitin’ on me?”
Your dripping, craving his touch more and more each day. It’s a scandal to be sure; good girls never do things like this, good girls aren’t supposed to feel things like this. Hell, they barely hold hands these days, and God forbid a kiss on the cheek.
But here? James has you coming apart with barely a glance. You’d heard the rumors about him. The girls he’d gone with before you were all too glad to spill the details of their salacious affairs.
“He’ll never be yours.” They’d say. After catching a glimpse of him bringing flowers to your job, or walking you home. “James Barnes doesn’t love anyone but himself.”
Oh, how wrong they were.
James loved everything about you. Some of the smallest, seemingly insignificant things had become his favorite traits. Like how your nose crinkled when you laughed, and how you always held his hand tightly while walking past alley ways.
He loved when you wore that particular shade of red on your lips that drove him crazy. It made him wanna spend all night kissing it off of you. The best was when you wore the red dress to match, he had to fight the urge to rip it off of your half the time.
His favorite thing was how you sounded underneath him. Bucky loved that he was the only one to get to see you this way; how your skin felt against his, how you smelled. Going home smelling like you made him sleep like a baby.
In the twilight hours of the night, you were his alter and he was more than ready to worship on his knees.
Bucky dove into your folds, kissing them with an adoration and hunger that you’ve become accustomed to, but we’re no less shaken by.
“James, oh James…”
You cried his name like it was a song, one you had stuck in that pretty head of yours and needed to sing to get out.
Bucky smiled against your heat. “So sweet for me, baby. Always so sweet, my own personal candy shop.”
He stood now, kissing up your stomach and to your chest. Sliding a palm behind your back, he scooped you up, “Can I see you, Sugar?”
With half closed eyes, you nod, and James unclasps your bra before letting it fall to the floor.
Then he’s on you again, kneading your bosom and diving between it. His lips are hot as they find your perked nipples, paying equal attention to both of them.
When his mouth lands on yours, he kisses you quickly and pulls back to look into your eyes. He’s holding your stare when you feel him fondle your folds, slicking his fingers up before sliding them into you.
Your eyes roll back as you rut against his hand sitting between your legs.
“You squeezin’ me already?” He smirked, knowing what he does to you. “My babydoll…so desperate to be touched.”
A breathy laugh falls from your lips, and you palm his hard length through his boxers. “Looks like I’m not the only desperate one, handsome…”
Bucky, still caressing your cunt, pressed the base of his palm against your clit. Your breath caught in your throat, “Don’t act fresh, pretty girl. You know what it does to me.”
He pumped his fingers as he brought his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the spot below your ear. He was always careful not to leave a mark that couldn’t easily be covered with powder, he would hate to have people talking nasty about you.
“Oh, I know.” You teased. “I like when you’re all riled up, just for me. You know I’m greedy, Sarge.”
James growled, pulling his fingers from you heat. He barely got his boxers off in time, and then he’s on you again, lining himself up with your entrance.
“Tell me you want it, Honey.” He breathed. His cock teased you, pressing firmly against your clit, sending shivers down your spine.
“Need you, lover boy. Need you bad.” It’s hushed moans and baited breath now. James brushed a few loose hairs from your face, stroking your cheek with his hand.
“My Angel,” he whispers. His eyes are holding nothing but devotion. His voice, cascading you in rivers and oceans of love.
In a smooth, languid thrust, he fills you to the hilt. Bellowing a moan so lustful, it shook you to your core. “Oh, Sugar…” he whined. “Your perfect, God damn perfect.”
You felt full; in both body and heart. This man was everything you needed and so much more. “James, sweetheart that’s it.” The words are moaned into the abyss of your bedroom, swallowed by the darkness above.
“Love seeing you like this, gorgeous. You comin’ apart for just me…it could make a man go wild.”
Bucky quickens his pace, making sure to hit your clit with his pubic bone each time, only further stretching the rubber band you felt in your core.
It started to happen, that buzzing sensation in your ears, the tingling making its way through your body. You were on the precipice of ecstasy, and James knew it.
“Y/N...” he moaned into your ear. “I love you so much, Honey.”
You breathing was shallow and erratic. You gripped his back, bringing Bucky closer to you. “I love you, James. Oh goodness, I love you!”
Fireworks erupting within you as your body shook with pleasure. James pounded your heat still as he chased his own release, making sure to keep yours going as long as he could.
With a carnal grunt, you felt him spill himself inside of you. His cock twitching and throbbing from the feeling of you around him.
The weight of his body on yours was a familiar and welcomed feeling. He leaned back to get a view of your face; glistening in the afterglow of your love-making.
“So beautiful…” he whispered, stroking your cheek. Your breaths mingled in the space between, before his soft lips met yours.
“James,” you breathed, as your noses touched one another.
“What is it, Y/N? You’re not happy?” His voice was nervous, almost fearful that he’d hurt you in some way.
You shook your head, rubbing your fingertips along the stubble on his jaw. “No, no, Honey. I’m impossibly happy.”
James smiled, a redness coloring his cheeks that, in the darkness of the room, was almost impossible to see. He moved from above you, and laid down in the spot beside you.
“I meant what I said, sweetheart. You’re it for me, I don’t want anyone else. I love you, Y/N. You gotta be my girl…” he confessed, playing with your fingers.
The butterflies in your stomach started to flutter. Their wings creating a friction that spread warmth from your center, out to your fingertips and toes.
“I’ve been yours since I met you, James. I love you. I love you with everything I have.” His toothy grin was all you saw before he’s kissing you again.
In this moment, the two of you knew what true happiness was.
Bucky didn’t know how long he’d have with you. Being a soldier was pretty cut and dry—he was either home or away. Fighting a war, or waking up with you and taking walks in Central Park.
You knew it, too. At any moment, the other shoe could drop and he could be gone. Risking his life in God knows where, never knowing when or if you’ll see him again.
“Sleep now, Love. I’ll be here when you wake up. Maybe then we can go to that little bakery you love? The one in Dumbo?” He spoke softly, rubbing your arm.
“You remember that?” He could hear the smile in your voice.
“Of course I do. I remember everything about you, darlin’.”
So for now, you have him. All of him—and he has you in return.
281 notes · View notes
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: 7.8k
— 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.
◦➳ soundtrack ♫ ◦➳ nyx masterlist ◦➳ join my taglist
Series Masterlist — Previous Chapter
It takes you a few more days to organize everything you want, but once everything is set and ready, the photos you take for your page week can be easily classified as some of the best work you’ve done so far.
Thanks to tricks taught to you by a photographer friend and the few videos you gathered the patience to watch on Youtube years ago, you transforming any space — small or big — in a good scenario for pictures came easy to you, and that definitely helped you build up such a clean, “professional” image.
Artistic bullshit aside, the shots were stunning.
You spend a good hour hyping yourself up to the fact that these are the same shots as before, but it's evident in the lighting, the posing, the sheer sensuality that each of them owns.
You were inspired.
It was impossible to deny when the evidence was frozen in time.
gPictures of your foggy breath against the bathroom mirror, bathtub pictures with water dripping on your skin, and a few props around the house and you had enough to content to last you at least two months.
Between one scenario and another, you catch yourself thinking about a stain of grease running down your back.
Maybe on your cheekbones, matching the black lace covering your body.
That was a dangerous road and quickly, you shook yourself out of those thoughts.
Bucky has nothing to do with this is clearly the first bullshit you try convincing yourself of, but as soon as you do, you flop back onto your mattress with a defeated sigh.
The fact that you wanted to take that excuse in said it all.
At least whatever flame Bucky lit up under your skin resulted in all those nice shots.
You may not have a model's body, but your page as well as many others that you followed which did the same work as you did wonders for body acceptance and positivity, unlike what many people would expect.
The point was that the more you felt sexy in your own skin, the more others tended to do so, too.
You meant what you'd said to Sarah when the two of you met—employing other people with the job of liking or finding beauty in you never existed in your dictionary.
Your life's biggest blessing was, perhaps, that you enjoyed your own company.
After you finish editing, saving in their respective folders, and creating a schedule for posting them, you sit on your kitchen counter still in panties, bralette and a robe, a sandwich in one hand, and a lecture being plaid on your ear pods.
The heavy textbook on your hand is a good reminder of why making an extra few hundred bucks (nearing a thousand, depending on the month and your inspirations) every month meant everything.
You had a long way to go, and unfortunately living on this earth costs a lot, all the time.
Until the end of the week, you'd have another large bill to pay and you'd rather be able to do it without having to live off of noodles for the foreseeable future.
(Buying a new gloss since yours had ended before you saw Bucky again didn't sound half bad, either.)
i have something extremely important to ask u
that sounds ominous and v serious. is it srs
bc i'm under a car rn and i dont fancy hitting my head
are u abt to hit me with existential crack again
i havent had coffee yte hold on
lmfao theres no need for coffee
i was about to ask who on earth typed
those first messages of yours to me. 'cause it sure
has hell wasn't you. proper punctuation, capital letters and all...
do u use siri sometimes or what
i'm sorry that's so funny to me somehow???
how tf do u notice these little things is beyond me lol
it was peter. i was under a tight spot in a car and
asked him to type the messages for you
ah! makes sense.
speaking of the young padawan: has he
solved my riddle yet?
no and i am loving every sec of this lol
he went from 'riddles are just LoGiC , BuCKy' to
'why is lady bullet allowed to write things on the
office board through you, anyway???? no one else
is allowed to do that' and today morning he was screaming inside my office '
THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE I REFUSE
TO BELIEVE THERE'S AN ANSWER' so yeah
thanks for the entertainment
you all figured it out, right? :D
yup. gabe was the last one. now he passes peter and
laughs under his breath like an asshole
i think the kid might have a heart attack soon if we dont tell him the answer
let him marinate for a little longer!
as paramore once beautifully put
'that's what you get' <3
you know, when i asked u for a tip on how to punish
him for calling my favorite book dumb i didnt think you'd
actually find something but i am glad you did
it's hard to find someone as smart as peter
me n all the boys all thank u v v much.
he needs an ego trim every now n then
happy to help, sarge :D
Some people thought what you might hate the most in the subway was the crowd and the dirtiness — everywhere you looked, it seemed like a health hazard — but instead, it was the fact that you were under the ground.
Small or confined (or heaven forbid, both) spaces were not your thing.
"Thanks for coming with me, S."
Sarah adjusts her coat on the seat by your side and gives you an easy smile. "Duh."
Standing in front of you, AJ turns his GameBoy screen to you.
"Like this?" He asks.
You analyze the game screen and note with excitement that he followed your instructions and got himself in the hidden spot you were so familiar with. "That's it!" You lifted your hand for a high-five, which he gave with a smirk. "Nice job, kiddo."
"Can we go for ice cream before you two drop us off at uncle Sam's?" Cass asks, bumping his sneakers into your boots.
"Your ma and I told you we're taking you both for burgers and milkshake before we go to work, mister," you smack your teeth at Cass, and squeeze his cute little chin for good measure. "This is what you get for walking around with those damn pods all day and not listening to us."
"Hear hear." Sarah eyes Cass with 'i told you eyes'. "He knows very well what's gonna happen if those things seem permanently stapled to his ear very soon."
"I'm sorry, I was watching the new One Piece episode," Cass shrugs apologetically, and you and Sarah exchange looks at his sheepish and adorable face trying to gain sympathy with pleading eyes.
"Am I a bad TT for buying him those instead of that book I know he was gonna like?" You ask Sarah with a pout.
"Nah, he just needs to learn how to use his present without excluding himself off of the world, which we've talked about for the last time last night, right?" Sarah asks Cass.
Cass nods dutifully, and AJ shares a look with you above the exchange, then goes right back to his game.
Those small little looks are one of the things that make you feel the most at home in the city that feels too big for you sometimes. Truly being Sarah's friend meant being close to her kids, too, and being her best friends came with the benefit of being seen as an "auntie" for the cutest kids you had ever met.
"I can listen to music on the way there, right?" Cass asks, buttering up a sweet smile.
Sarah rolls her eyes. "Duh." Cass puts the ear pods back on and Sarah looks at you, sensing that their attention is fully on their little world now and she can go back to the conversation. "So—what was the reason again? The excuse you were giving me about why you can't invite him to your celebration day?"
You sigh deeply, feeling that anxious flutter inside your chest at the coded hidden question about Bucky.
"S. He's a life-saver and we're definitely... acquaintances, but that doesn't mean he's gonna want to come next month to a barbeque to celebrate 'little old me'." The last bit is a jab at Bucky's constant reminders of how much older he is than you, but Sarah doesn't know that.
"Why not? He's super close with my brother, you two now know each other," she prompts with an indulgent tone.
"Would you invite Amree for your birthday?" You ask her in return, changing your tactics.
Sarah was about to talk but stops with her mouth half-open at the mention of the handymen from her building.
You'd seen him the last time he was there, exchanging googley and dopey eyes at her.
The way she stuttered in the kitchen looking for the ingredients despite claiming she "doesn't need help to bake some cookies, babe, please".
"That. Is a completely fair point." She shuts her mouth and looks ahead of the subway.
A little part of you feels bad for being so surgical to get your point across, but Sarah was the only person in your life currently able to see right through you.
The only reason she still threatened waters around you to ask about Bucky, despite having seen on your face the clear signs of a crush, was because you were logical and as far she knew, you and he were mere acquaintances.
For some reason, how much you two have been talking is something you keep to yourself.
You nudge your arm against hers. "He'll just forget about me and my pretty car as soon as we're outta there today, S." You make an effort to sound playful, and not downright disappointed at that fact. "I don't wanna invite him for something he'll feel outta place in weeks. You told me he likes company that he knows, right?"
Sarah nods, a small pout on her face. "Yeah." She pulls AJ out of the way of a musician walking with an instrument and almost knocking it on the boy's head without meaning to.
"I've only seen him around the unit." Sarah looks at you. "He always comes to stuff Sam asks, but that's probably 'cause he's best friends with Steve and Sam and Steve are... well. You'll see."
You recognize in her scoff and tone that this is something you must see or speak of when not in the presence of already sentient and smart younger ears.
"But even then I've heard him say he's not big on parties." Sarah sighs. "Guess you're right, then."
An announcement for a cool super-hero movie pops up in one of the screens close to you both, and the rest of the way is a pleasant and fun conversation about movies that at some point, AJ and later Cass end up joining.
That's how you four arrive at Barnes Auto—nerding out, bundled up in cozy jackets for the chilly October air and with flushed cheeks from laughing.
The first one to see you guys is Peter who, this time, is standing at his working place.
"Sargeant! Incoming for you." He yells loud and clear, smiling at all of you. "Steve, get here," he adds in a voice a little lower, but loud enough to be heard through the noises of the mechanic shop.
"Hi Peter!" you say, echoed by the same greetings from Sarah and the boys.
He's coming around from behind the receptionist counter to say hello to the boys when you finally get to properly meet the infamous Stevie.
Out of the room behind the reception comes a blond man as tall and built as Bucky, with a thick beard and beautiful sand-blond hair.
His smile is contagious, and he waves excitedly at Sarah and the boys before pinning his piercing blue eyes on you.
After cleaning his hand on the rug on his shoulder, he extends it. "You must be Y/N. Nice to meet ya, I'm Steve."
"Neet to meet you, Steve." You shake his head, ignoring the hollering and laughter coming from behind you from Peter and the kids. "Last time I dropped by you were stuck under a beautiful 60s Camaro with a painting gun on your hand, so I didn't wanna bother."
"And also Buck told you to ignore the idiots on his shop, so," he points at himself with a doofus-grin.
Before you can find out a way to reply to his teasing, the boys come to wrap around Steve's legs.
"Hi uncle Steve!" says Cass.
"Uncle Steve, Y/n taught me how to pass that phase I told you about, d'you wanna see?" AJ asks excitedly.
"Of course I do, little guy!" Steve gives you a nod with raised eyebrows that kind of say 'nice one, Y/n' and then he's guiding both of the boys back inside the reception room, keeping up with both of them speaking at the same time.
When you look at where Sarah and Peter are still standing, both of them stop their conversation to look at you.
"Oh! Sargeant's waiting for you, Y/n." Peter smiles at you. "You remember where it is, right?"
"Yeah, I do."
"I'm gonna catch up with Peter, you go ahead," Sarah tells you when you direct your gaze to her.
With a nod to the both of them, you turn around and walk further inside to the back patio you're growing used to.
Madeleine Peyroux is the first thing you listen to as you get close to the place where you know Bullet is parked.
That's from your pen-drive, and you know it.
When you finally cross the arch separating the shop from the open back, you can see Bullet shining on the left side, and Bucky sitting behind the open door of an old Volkswagen beetle.
His eyes widen at the sight of you, and you smile up at him.
You'd texted earlier it'll be at least a couple of hrs till i'm there. gonna stop by n get S and the kids! but once you got to Sarah's house, everybody was dressed and ready to go, already, which meant you were at least an hour earlier than he expected.
"You're early," says Bucky, stopping the work he's doing to give you a small smile.
"The crew was ready when I got there," you shrug, doing a weird little dance bowin with your legs when he smiles back pleased at you.
Bucky laughs at you, entirely delighted.
It makes you blush, but that's something he's become quite good at even if he doesn't know it.
You turn around to Bullet, thankful he probably can't see it from this far. "I see you're still enjoying my sound system," you gesture towards your car blasting Etta James now at full volume.
Bucky's garage is well-built enough that the rooms feel like separate atmospheres.
On the reception and the first two areas of the shop all you heard was modern rock'n'roll that you, unfortunately, failed to recognize, but here at the back, Etta singing "Stormy Weather" was all it could be heard.
"You have a really good taste in music," Bucky nods and kind of bows to you with his upper body. The approval over your music makes you giggle.
"I can't lie, that's a pretty straight-up fact," you nod back at him.
Bucky laughs again, his eyes crinkling at the corner. You start moving closer to Bullet, wanting to take a better look at her.
It's clear the boys had washed and pampered her up.
"I had a pretty good crash course with her, I think." Even without seeing him, you can feel Bucky getting up from behind the car he's working and start moving to where you are as well. "I saved all the new artists I heard on her on my playlists."
Tracing your fingertips over Bullet's hood, you look back up at him.
"Many new choices?" You smile.
"Many," he stops right in front of you, and opens that side-smile that makes your heart a little weak. "I listened to pretty much the same stuff since I was kid before I went overseas, then I spent a good few years without listening to the top 40s if you know what I mean, so I was really out of the loop."
For someone who, according to others, loves being in silence or keep as short as possible, Bucky sure seems willing to offer you a lot of information, willingly.
"Not anymore." You knew from all the back and forth you two have had the past week that Bucky absolutely adores Paramore, Hozier, Frank Ocean, among many other artists.
Bucky nods along to you, a smile intact on his face until he seems to remember something and exclaims. "Oh! Steve's not trapped under a car today. He said something about talking to you about your good car choices, so don't leave before I've gotten a chance to introduce you two."
"He was at the reception room, I just did," you chuckle. "AJ and Cass have stolen him, unfortunately."
"Ah." Bucky smacks his teeth. "Their Uncle Stevie has to give them attention before he's allowed to spend time with the adults."
"They seem to really like him."
"They do. Steve won them over before they learned how to talk," Bucky scoffs, looking fondly in the direction where they all are. "I still remember the first time they called him uncle Steve," he adds with a far-away tone, smiling turning softer. "That man was so happy." Bucky scoffs again, chuckling to himself. "Punk."
Sam and Steve are... well. You'll see.
"Oh!" you exclaim out loud, a pin suddenly dropping in your brain, connecting one snarky comment to another.
The memory of Sarah on the first year you two met each other, sitting on a balcony staircase during a party and telling you all about her stupid brother and how he and his stupid best friends were stupidly in love with each other, but blind as a bat to that fact.
Bucky snaps his head to you.
"It's him!" You stage-whisper, leaning closer to Bullet and to where Bucky is. "When I met Sarah at Nila's party she was talking about her brother's best friend, who he served with after Riley decided to drop out of the course, and who—" you stop talking, altogether, shutting your lips tightly together. "I'm not going crazy, right? It's Steve?" You whisper to Bucky.
Bucky's looking at you with a funny expression, and when he answers, it's in a whispering tone, too. "His best friend who..."
"C'mon, you know," you giggle.
Bucky licks his lips, and looks away from you with a chuckle. "Everyone who knows those two knows, yes." When Bucky looks back, it's with a know-it-all smirk. "One day they'll figure it out." He shrugs his shoulders. "And I'm Stevie's best friend."
You roll your eyes at him. "God, I can hear the fights you and Sam have had about this," you chuckle.
"Only a couple. Until one of them decides to leave the idiot zone and smack the other in the face with a kiss, he's gotta be content with being best friend number two," Bucky widens his smile at you. "I met him first."
"Called dibs on him, did you?" You tease.
"Sure did, darlin'." Oh, lord. There it is again. Darling. "Plus—one day Sam will be 'husband' and I'll be the one having to deal with his smug ass and his husband dibs, so I'm getting my fill while I can," Bucky adds with a snicker.
"How long have you and Steve known each other?" You ask.
Bucky hums and leans with his back against Bullet.
"I... have lost count." He chuckles, quickly locking eyes with you. "We met when we were kids, then I moved with my dad for a while, but I went back to my ma's and since then Stevie and I have had each other's six."
Even if you wanted, you couldn't help but melt a little at the sweet and hidden smile in Bucky's eyes from talking about his best friend.
They sound like the kind of friendship anyone would dream of having in a lifetime.
"Adorable," you say.
Bucky laughs under his breath, and turns around to your car, clasping his hands together. "Alright. Lemme tell you everything that she's been through." He places his hands on the hood, and your throat dries a little watching the shine of his metallic left hand against the black shining painting. "Then we can go to the office, 'cause I gotta show you something," he adds in a serious tone.
When you look up at him curiously, you see the same glint in his eyes from when he recorded himself listening to Paramore for the first time.
There's a playful mirth hidden in Bucky's looks — and comments — that you noticed.
"Go head, Sarge."
Bucky explains to you calmly and very thoroughly about the three main repairs he had done on Bullet, and where the problem had originated from.
He also says, "Ah, and I changed your battery 'cause it was shitty, and I did spend the whole week listening to music on Bullet while I worked, so it was only my duty." He throws you a half-smile over his shoulder. "I'm letting you know 'cause you might notice if you open the hood, but you won't see it on the bill 'cause I am not charging. I ran it to the ground, I changed it, you're welcome."
The tone he uses and the pointed look state to anyone willing to listen that this topic is not open for discussion, so you lift your hands up in surrender.
Seeing your compliance, he gives a tiny satisfied nod. Then, he points to the inside of the shop.
"Shall we?" He chuckles. "You're gonna like what you see."
Bucky leads you through the shop and right to the main office, then closes the door behind you two.
This time, your eyes roam around the place a little bit.
You can see pictures of what you identify from afar are a bunch of soldiers, there are spaceships prototypes, and a bunch of books you hadn't seen before spread everywhere.
It turns out, the thing Bucky is so secretly giddy to show you is the answer to the riddle you had texted him days ago and he'd written on the board:
You know my thunder comes before the lightning. My lightning comes before the clouds. My rain dries all the land it touches. I'm...
Right under the riddle, there was the answer.
You point at it, smiling with your jaw fallen. "Is that Peter's?" you ask.
A burst of laughter comes out from Bucky.
"You bet." He comes around the table and sits on his chair. "Took him a while, but he got it."
You burst out laughing, too, thinking of scrawny and tall Peter furiously writing the answer on the green board in big, block letters.
The board is quite a masterpiece, you notice.
When you look at Bucky, you allow curiosity to peek its head out again. "Can I?" you point at it.
Bucky lifts one eyebrow, just like Sarah does. "Of course," he smiles at you, and gestures for you to go forward.
When you step closer to inspect, you see that the big — wide and a little tall — green board contains all sorts of messages.
Right on the center, there's a neat and talented spreadsheet with all of this month's dates and important car deliveries.
"Who's the bookwork of the shop?" you ask and start roaming your eyes around the rest surrounding the center spreadsheet.
There's the Santa Claus dick you recognize from Bucky's picture, a bunch of things in german and spanish thrown sporadically, and what you notice are book quotes.
Or maybe poems.
"Me." You spin around at the answer, and Bucky points at all the books. "These are mine."
There are so many books, and you look at all of them with growing satisfaction.
There was a time when you used to eat books like meals.
Reading pleased you immensely, but you rarely had time for it anymore.
Bucky watches your expression go from excited to melancholic, and his calm look turns into a frown at the same moment.
"What?" He asks softly.
"Sorry," you laugh, a little caught by the emotions. "I was thinking about how much I used to read. I love books. It's just... I stopped a little before I got into school and once I did—" you scoff.
It's not like you had much time to look up recommendations now.
Bucky watches you for few more heartbeats, then points at the board again.
"What's your favorite quote from there?" He asks.
You're pulled out from your blues with the question, and turn around to read all of them again.
Then, your eyes read on a small footnote on the right side.
The handwriting is elegant, yet messy.
could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
Your heart seems to forget how it is that it beats, and you feel your jaw dropping one more time.
Your body turns around slowly towards Bucky, eyes almost glued to the quote, not wanting to let go. "Where is that from?"
Bucky looks in the direction you're pointing, and his eyes widen. "Oh." He looks up at you with the saddest smile you've ever seen on his beautiful face. "That's the best and the saddest book I've ever read in my life," he tells you in a low voice, emotion dripping from every word, as if he's feeling the power of the story webbed into his heart strike him right there. "I can lend it to you, but it'd break your heart."
It seems like the world stops for a second for you.
Bucky's sitting there in the morning light streaming from the glass walls, looking at you expectantly and all you can think about is whether this man was carved from gold or your dreams.
Was he real?
"I haven't read a book in ages but, yeah—I'd love to," you laugh, surprised at his offer and how happy the simple question makes you.
Happy and seen, somehow.
Bucky Barnes has known you not even for a full month and yet, here he was, making your inner child feel giddy and more pleased than in a long time.
"Hold on," he gets up with a smile and goes shuffling around his books, then walks to you with a small and well-cared-for example of a book called The Song of Achilles.
You read the summary at the back with hungry eyes, and when you're done you look up at Bucky. "Oh my god."
He laughs again. "I know."
"This is your favorite book?" You confirm with a smile, twisting the book around like you're touching something precious.
"Yup." He goes back to his chair and turns on his computer. "What's yours?"
"Love Is A Dog From Hell," you answer with a square smile. "I was really into Bukowski when I was a teeanger, but that one really stuck."
Bucky's jaw drops a little, too. "You like that book?"
Bucky smiles. "There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock..." his voice drifts off, and then he shakes his head. "That one fucked me up for a long time."
Recognizing one of the poems from the book, you take a seat in the chair in front of his desk.
"Isn't he a bastard?" You ask with passion.
One question is all that's needed for you two to start a conversation about the numerous reasons why Bukowski can make you drunk on feelings you've never felt.
In only a few minutes you realize Bucky's just like the friends you used to have back in high school, the ones who shared a cigarette with you under the bleachers and talking about things most teachers were too old to even consider.
It's so nice to speak with someone who listens intently to your point before sharing theirs, and you noticed while talking to him that apart from Sarah, no one else in your life now has a talk this nice with you, this easy.
He laughs numerous times at your smartass comments and adds plenty of his own.
When you ask him, "Oh—you know I won't be able to finish this soon, no matter how much I want to, right?" sheepishly shrinking your shoulders. "I really lost my touch and my focus is piss poor lately. That on top of the fact that I fall asleep on top of books now like I went to school for that, and—"
"Y/n," he interrupts you for the first time. "You're a busy woman. It's fine."
The 'woman' and the certain look he gives you makes something inside of you quiver.
"Okay." You pocket the book, then ask him to continue his point with a hand gesture. "Go on. The similitudes between Madeline's depictions and Illiad..."
With a quick scratch to his nape, Bucky goes right back to talking.
Time slips by through your lines about your favorite stories and his points on the poetry that never left his mind.
Steve is the one to burst your bubble.
Bucky notices him first through the glass window, and when he enters after a couple of light knocks, he stops under the threshold with a surprised expression.
"Sarah said something about you two getting early dinner before work?" Steve asks you with curiosity.
Why is he mentioning early dinner?
You take your phone out of your pocket and when the time stares back at you, space and time disappear from under your feet for a second.
"We just spent an hour talking," Bucky echoes your thoughts behind you.
With a glance, you see he's checking his computer's clock, too. "Shit." He looks at Steve. "Is Marcos here already?"
"Not yet, but he will be soon," answers Steve.
"Alright, I'm—we're wrapping up here." He gives Steve a nod. "Tell Sarah and the kids I'm coming to say hi in a couple of minutes?"
"Sure." Steve looks from Bucky to you. "Is it true you're into Harleys?"
Well, it seems Bucky's been sharing your conversations with his best friend, or least some of it.
"Yeah," you answer.
He enters the office and through the glass window, points at his station that's a few meters away across from it.
Your eyes follow the direction his finger points and finds it—a Harley Easy Rider painted almost entirely in baby, soft pink.
"Oh my god." Who the fuck would do that to a Harley? "Are you responsible for this sacrilege?"
That seems to be the appropriate answer, because Steve throws his hands up in the air and almost yells. "Thank you!" He turns around to point at Bucky. "I told you this goes beyond taste. No one should do be allowed by law to do this," he whines a little.
Bucky laughs at you two. "Well, she paid you good—no, she paid you great amounts of money to be done, pal." Bucky leans back against the chair. "You better get started on that coat of gloss paint and make that Barbie ride real smooth and shiny. Pink, gloss shiny."
"God, I hate rich people," Steve sighs. With a final look at you, he opens a sad smile. "Good to have someone else around with common sense on their shoulders, ma'am." He turns around to leave and right before closing the door, adds in a sing-song voice. "Don't take too long!"
You and Bucky share a look. We really got lost in our own world, huh?
After the smile returns to your faces, he opens the door he had initially gone through when he first got here.
"Shall we?" he pulls up a book and you sit down, ready to start paying him for his hard work.
He shows you the paperwork, runs you through all the needed things briefly one last time and you pay just like you two discussed, one-third of the money now, and the other two-thirds to be paid in debit in a fortnight, then another fortnight after that.
Bucky asks no questions about where you get all your money from or makes any jokes and you appreciate it—your anxiety whenever paying for things can eat you up enough alone without someone prodding into your windows.
When you two leave his office, you're clutching your backpack closer to you, thinking about the new addition in it.
Bucky said you could return it until one of the last payments, so at least two more times you were ought to see each other, even if for a brief payment transition.
Sarah and the kids all gush and hug Bucky when they see him, and you stand at the side watching the interaction with a smile on your face.
Bucky has to bid you all goodbye sooner than later because another client of his arrives.
The look he gives you and that shy, slow-wave right before you leave the shop's sight stays burned behind your eyelids all weekend as you work.
had your coffee yet?
not yet hold on
"you would not be displeased, i think. with how you look now."
my face grew warm. but we spoke no more of it.
yeah i know lol
this whole scene is beautiful
the love?!?!? and the soft tenderness?!?!?!??!?!?
can you IMAGINE greece's biggest hero and warrior
BLUSHING at the soft touches. i am SPEECHLESS
how much coffee have you had
did you get any sleep??
wow would u look at the time ! i must be on my way ! have a brand new car to drive to school!
y/n. get back here
oh my god if you faint from the caffeine and the alck of sleep im gonna feel sofucking bad
please eat something
ah. you're eating
good.. that's good
i'm glad you're liking the book, darlin
please get some sleep today tho
pretty sure i won't have a say in it
praying i dont fall asleep while walking
say amen, buck
say u wont drink any more coffee today pls
im genuinely worried for ur heart
no more caffeine today
pinky promise, sargeant!
thanks, lady bullet
have you ever heard of anne sexton
What you imagined was:
Bucky would deliver you the car, answer your final texts and after that, communication with him would slowly come to an end. The messages would get further and further in between (as it had happened with many acquaintances, potential friends and not) and that would be it.
Only polite nods and professional talks when you eventually did see each other.
What happens it:
The topic of literature steals at least two hours of sleep for the next two days, and when that changes to the current industry of entertainment, you found yourself texting even during lecture sometimes (only in the ones which the subjects you’d covered the reading beforehand, naturally).
October ends with you getting to know Bucky and one single thought growing in your head: you had told Sarah inviting him for your birthday made no sense given how you two didn’t talk, and now all you did was that. Talk to him.
By the time the second week of November rolls around, you can’t imagine not inviting him for your day. You want him there.
You two didn’t spend the whole day talking, you were both busy adults and thankfully, Bucky wasn’t the type of person to be bothered by hours of silence and sudden subject changes. Still. You didn't talk all day long, but you were talking almost daily.
You had to tell Sarah.
The opportunity presents itself through a picture and one of his texts.
why do we like the wilsons again?
god the dramatics
filed attached: a picture of Steve leaning against the reception counter with a happy grin on his face, Sam leaning from the other side with the same expression on his face.
i wonder why 🙄 sam keeps thst old bike 🙄
sure it was a great gift from steve but 🙄
whY kEEp It 🙄
You snorted looking at the screen.
Sarah lifts her eyes from the notebook, then glances back down with the hint of a smirk on her face.
“S?” you call, typing away an answer.
“Remember how I said Bucky would probably stop talking to me?” You send the answer (cause they’re nice n funny, and they’re great cooks) then look up at her. Sarah’s typing away, only the glint of curiosity on her face giving away the fact that she’s listening.
“I do, yes.”
“We’ve been talking.” When she looks up at you, you’re biting the side of your nails, smiling sheepishly behind your hand. “Friendly talking, you know. And now I wanna invite him for my birthday. It’s not too late, is it? Is it weird? I mean. He’s friends with your brother, and your brother’s kinda my friend already which is why he insists on taking over a grill for my day even though I didn’t ask, and—I could ask him, right?”
Sarah’s smile on the corner of her lips turn it into a full smirk.
“Just ask him, babe.” She looks back down at the computer, typing away again. “He’ll say yes.”
“Really?” you forcefully put both your palms on top of the books to stop taking your anxiety out on your poor fingers. “Cause you said he’s not big on parties.”
“He isn’t, yes. But mostly cause of their crowds.” Sarah shrugs. “Your party will be at Sam’s place and that’s basically one of his homes. There won’t be many people.” She looks up at you kindly. “He seems to enjoy your company if he’s still talking to you—he’ll say yes.” Her next chuckle is accompanied by a teasing smile. “Maybe I’ll even get to see some of that funny Sargeant you and Sam got to meet but I rarely ever see.”
You look down at your phone.
true but your wilson is scary in the kitchen
are you intimidated by sarah 😏
she threatened to cut my balls off once
it was a misunderstanding but still
she wasn’t jk
i know she wasn’t
You have to stifle your laughter behind your hand.
“He’s intimidated by you, S.”
Sarah stops typing again. “Ah.” Her smile grows again. “Still?” She goes back to her essay with a giggle. “I’ll make sure to smile to him next time.”
"Which will be at my birthday," you announce, deciding right there that you will muster up the courage.
Sarah looks up from her notebook and smiles at you. "Yup." Her eyes glance towards the piece of paper that's lying between the pages of my book. "Ugh. You already finished yours, didn't you?" Rolling her eyes, she answers to herself before you even open your mouth. "Of course you did."
You throw her a cheeky wink and let her go back to her own essay, keeping your phone inside your purse for the rest of your studying time.
Once Sarah finishes her own paper, you two close all your textbooks and spend the last hour of the day before Sarah picks up her kids from the other Sarah's house — Steve's mother — talking in hushed whispers about all the latest gossips and random things that pop up in your phones and in your heads.
Although you sounded very sure when stating to Sarah that you would invite Bucky, as soon as you're away from her bright persona and brave, encouraging smile, the usual nasty little thoughts start creeping their heads in.
What if he doesn't like you that much? What if he doesn't wanna hang around your friends? Bucky can find you a weirdo for inviting him to a party after knowing him personally for so little.
You clutch the steering wheel of Bullet, trying to shame those insecurities back into a drawer, back them into a corner of your brain.
Salvation comes in the form of Hozier.
Lost in your own negative thoughts, you'd missed the beginning of the song, but the moment you notice, it's like a surge of braveness.
You know better, babe, you know better abbe than to smile at me like that...
His coy smile, barely lifting the corners of his mouth, but still managing to call the crinkles on the corner of his eyes pops up in your mind.
Before you realize what you're doing, you're pulling up on the side of the road and taking your phone out of your pocket.
The twilight of this particular Tuesday paints the sky in the prettiest colors. You notice that while biting the corner of your nails, listening intently to the ringing of the phone.
You lower the sound system, as Hozier continues.
I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born... You'll hear me... howling outside of your door...
You hear the click of the sound coming through and you feel your palms start sweating a bit.
"Well, this is new." Bucky greets you. "Hello, darlin'."
"Are you busy? Is this a horrible time?" There's only so much of your anxiety you can rail in at a time. "I'm sorry I didn't text before I called, I know you're busy with—"
"Y/n," he interrupts you. Bucky's been getting better at noticing your rambles of anxiety and cutting them short, much to your pleasure (and less embarrassment). "I'm not busy, no. I mean. I'm still at the shop, but it's just me and Steve finishing up a few things. We kinda like it here."
There's that breathy chuckle on the other side of the line you love so much, and you take a deep breath with the ease and calm tone of Bucky's voice.
"So you can talk," he concludes his thought. You think you can hear the sound of the wheels of Bucky's mechanic creeper, but you could be wrong. "What's up?"
"Well. Hozier started singing your favorite song and I ended up pulling up at the side of the road as an impulse."
One of the tools you learned in therapy was to channel your anxiety and let your words flow—the unsaid bothered you plenty, and what if scenarios could drive you insane if you bottled things up too much.
Bucky didn't seem to mind. Most of his chuckles and head shakes came from the things you blurt out, just like now.
"It Will Come Back is a good reason to watch the sunset." The sound of the shop fades and changes, and you imagine Bucky walking towards the back patio for some reason. "When it isn't cloudy I can always notice this time of the day 'cause the whole light of the shop changes."
"That must be pretty," you muse.
"It is," he answers lightly. "I don't think you called me to watch the sunset together, though. And it definitely ain't for that beauty you're driving 'cause I know I did a good job. Unless—is it her?" He adds with a worried tone right after.
It's your time to chuckle.
The sky's turning the loveliest shades of blue, dark orange and pink.
"Nah, Bullet's good."
"Oh—okay. Thank god," he chuckles.
"Yeah." You take a deep breath. "I did have a question."
Bucky hums on the other side of the line. "Never heard you worried before askin' something before."
"Well—" you clear your throat. "It's an invite, but I don't want you to feel pressured or anything 'cause from what I've heard, you're not the biggest on... celebrations."
Bucky's silent for a second, and his next hum sounds a little confused. "Uhm... isn't it a bit early for Christmas parties?" He tries, and his tone says he was going for a joke.
It makes you laugh. "It is, silly. But my birthday's in a couple of weeks, so..." you trail off, then smack your teeth. "I'd like you to be there. Dunno if you heard it through the grapevine yet or not, but Sam apparently likes me enough to wanna host a barbeque for me. It'll be me, a couple of friends from university, my younger sisters and actually a couple of teachers of mine I'm really close to, but that's it." You breathe again before continuing. "You could invite Steve, too, and the other boys if they'd like to come. Y'all know Sam so it could be fun for you all, too. I'd love to get a chance to talk to them. No need for presents or anything—maybe some beer? But yeah. You guys would be very much welcome."
Very much welcome. God, why does She let you ramble?
"You're very cute when you're nervous, you know." The way he states it makes it seem like not a question, and before you can pick up your heart from Bullet's floor, he adds with a happy voice. "'Course we'll come. Sam had mentioned something about being busy in a couple of weeks but hadn't said why. I just imagined he was gonna cook Steve another delicious and ridiculously nice dinner or somethin' like that."
"Oh." You open the eyes you hadn't noticed you closed. He's coming "Yay! That makes me happy," you giggle, holding your desire to clap at how delighted you are that Bucky not only agreed, but did so that fast.
Bucky laughs a little on the other side. "Good. I don't mind parties where I'm wanted that much," he jokes.
"Good. Just don't forget some alcohol and you'll definitely be wanted there," you tease back.
It works—the heartwarming laugh you love so much comes through the line.
"Duly noted: I'm only wanted if I bring offerings."
"Well—I'll be there. I'll extend the invitations, too, and I'll text you if any of them confirms it, kay?" Bucky tells you, sounding almost as bright as you felt right now.
The sunset sky had been prettier, but for the first time, you enjoyed a conversation more than you did watch your favorite time of the day.
"See you then, darling," he adds in a lower voice.
"See you, Sarge."
When you two hang up, you have to sit there another moment now assimilating the fact.
Bucky will be at your party.
Taglist ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @fanofalltheficsx ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @juliarose219 ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @fairytalebucky ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckyxplumsss ; @sltwins ; @iamtheonewhocares ; @imaginetwilight2704 ; @spiderdudetom ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @carmellasworld ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @agni-l ; @bahama-mama-llama ; @sstan-hoe ; @hawsx3 ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; Part I ♥
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Bratty-Bug’s Marvel fic rec
Hi there, this is a list of my favorite fics and ones that I would definitely recommend you read. These are mot my works, none of the characters or stories are mine in any way shape or form. I am just passing on great work from one reader to another !! I kinda also did this so I don’t lose track of my fav fics, oneshots, series and Au’s. The blogs mentioned on here are also my favorites for the mcu, so show them love and check out their blogs !!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 10 Things I Hate About You @imerdwarf
Summary: You and Bucky can’t stand each other. The man himself even inspired you to write a poem
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Can't Pretend We're Just Friends @jobean12-blog
Summary: Bucky is your plus one at your friends wedding and by the end of the night he's so much more.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Unsettling Relaxation @piecesofem
summary: you’re on vacation with mafia bucky when someone disturbs the peace
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Lost Without You @angrythingstarlight
Summary: Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 2 am @shxdowsummoner
summary: you walk in on your husband reading your daughter a book in the early morning
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Gentle Giant @touchstarvedirl
Summary: You and your neighbor Bucky have will we, won’t we thing going on and you devise a plan to get him to tell you how he feels. It doesn’t go according to plan, or does it? - Or- Shy, beefy, neighbor!Bucky confesses his feelings.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥At home with you @angrythingstarlight
Summary: Your beefy alpha Bucky only wants to do a few things when he gets home. Take care of you, eat you and keep you full.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥heavenly sweet @purple-babygirl
Summary: Bucky didn’t get the chance to tell her yet, but the matching aprons gesture had him even crazier in love with her. The way she closely watched his reaction as he'd opened his gift and the way she was over the moon when he’d showed his content with it would forever be engraved in his mind next to all of the other precious memories starring her beautiful eyes.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥His shirt @anonymousfiction211
Summary: Loki comes back to his chambers when he sees you wearing one of his shirts.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Go Ahead And Cry Little Girl @sinner-as-saint
Summary: You were furious and offended at the Avenger’s leader, Tony Stark. Because being a new addition to the team, he didn’t believe that you were strong enough yet to fight alongside the others during important missions. And when you went to give him a piece of your mind, things…didn’t really go as planned.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Possessive @thewritingdoll
Summary: Bucky Barnes’ jealousy was something you never could understand. he ranted and raved whenever you flirted with someone, yet was always standoffish about making you his lady. it irritated you beyond belief, that the only way you got this avenger’s attention was by making bedroom eyes at someone else. after a press conference, you can’t help but play girl next door with one of the reporters, and Bucky is witness to it, fire burning white and hot in his belly.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥His girl @tumblin-theworldaway
Summary: You could tell from the way your bones protested as you moved around the house, a dull stabbing pain shooting through your pelvis any time you bent down to dust something. You were just trying to get some chores done before your mother and older brother got back from town. Saturday was grocery shopping day, and they had left early. Your budding nausea had kept you in bed for a good part of the morning so you hadn’t even managed to get up and remind your brother Steve to get some lemon balm for the cramps. You hoped he’d remember anyways.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Territory @samingtonwilson
Summary: Bucky thinks you should mark your territory, but you’re too mature for that, right? Guess not.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥sweet, sugar, candyman. @xbuchananbarnes
Summary: ❝Okay, girls, let's show them how it's done. It ain't over 'til we say. And we’ve only just begun.❞
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Invisible Ink @navybrat817
Summary: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were trouble in the form of two handsome, intoxicating men. The owners of the Howling Commandos Tattoo Parlor had no business looking the way they did, especially Bucky. With his glasses, tattoos and metal arm, which somehow made him look more attractive, he was just your type. They both were. So you decided they were both menaces sent to torment your dreams and fantasies. And likely men who would break your heart.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Healing @crispychrissy
Summary: Tasked with examining the injured soldiers that were liberated from the Hydra factory, one sergeant in particular gives you a run for your money.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥soft @softlybarnes
Summary: Bucky and the reader have been together for a few months. She wants him to stay the night with her, but he’s reluctant. Modern!AU. Tattoo Artist!AU
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Blizzard @lavendercitizen
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've gotten so used to Steve's closeness, when you should be fighting him with tooth and nail. Not anymore.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥It’s okay if you forget me @starryevermore
summary: it’s ok if you forget about bucky—it’s what he deserves.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Promise me when you kiss my lips, you’ll make it stick @ambrosiase
summary: thor reminds you who he belongs to — hint, it’s you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Deception @firefly-in-darkness
Summary: Captain America has come out of the ice and SHIELD sends you undercover to find out what he plans to do next.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Guys my age @honeydulcewrites
Summary: You’re home for the summer from college and Steve is the new handsome landscaper your parents hired to keep up the grounds. It’s only a matter of time before lines are crossed
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Stranded @bucksfucks
summary: when your car breaks down on the side of the road and your dad can’t come rescue you, he sends the next best thing.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Loved you first @sinner-as-saint
Summary: You and Steve have been friends since you were both 5, naturally that made him quite protective of you. Steve believed what he felt for you was purely platonic, until he’s proven wrong. You started seeing someone recently, and plan to take things further with this guy and that’s when reality hits Steve. He realizes that he won’t be able to scare away all your potential boyfriends forever. Nor can he stop you from giving in to your more intimate desires with other men. He hates the thought of that. Steve’s jealousy gets the best of him and he’s determined to make you realize that you belong to him, and him alone; after all, he loved you first.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Red lips and poker chips @adrinktostopyourthirst
Summary: James Barnes is the New York mafia boss and likes celebrating at the casino, but can he still win at poker after meeting his match?
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥He was made to be a dad @becca-e-barnes
Summary: You and Bucky are expecting your second baby so Sarah throws you a little baby shower. Just Bucky being super cute and really excited about the new baby while absolutely doting on your son.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥The Barnes Au @agentofbarnes
Summary: bucky barnes has settled down, living in a beautiful home in new orleans with his wife, a former avenger. these are the different stories of how they navigate being superheroes, spouses, and parents.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Hackers Heart Au @agentofbarnes
Summary: steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ His Koala Bear @kinanabinks
summary: you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Her soft Animal @kinanabinks
summary: he's a ruthless animal to the rest of the world, but bucky barnes is a big softie when it comes to you, even years after your separation. and he's the only one both twisted and devoted enough to help you when you have a stark-shaped problem on your hands.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Blue Guardian @agentofbarnes
Summary: they call you by many names, the blue guardian, the rogue, but the renegade is what you truly are. a traitor to your own kind, but you didn’t need the kree anymore. you had found your own family in the guardians of the galaxy, and now, you had found a home in new asgard. but is home really a place, or is it the blond god that just can’t seem to get enough of you?
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Keeping up with the Stark’s @honeyloverogers
Summary: A series of one shots of Stark!Reader’s life as a Stark and as Steve Rogers’ wife aka the Stark family is a dysfunctional mess, but make for great entertainment.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Power Over Me @sinner-as-saint
Summary: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Sinners @kinanabinks
summary: anna, your best friend, recently broke up her with shitty boyfriend, bucky. it seems like fate keeps forcing you guys into the same room. bucky hates you. you hate bucky. but you soon realize that there’s a thin line between hate and horny.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥￼He Promised @fangirllife98
Summary: A little silence engulfed you both. You didn’t want him to leave, even though he’d only be gone five seconds for you, five seconds away from the love of your life seemed like a nightmare.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Captivity @fangirllife98
Summary: HYDRA. That’s all you’ve ever known. You were born in this godforsaken hell hold. Your mum died, you weren’t sure how, but she did. You don’t really remember her, just that she was brave because she was a HYDRA captive too. You weren’t sure what your role was at HYDRA. All you knew was you were given names then you had to report back for The Winter Soldier Project.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ It will come back @honeychicana
Summary: He was a fugitive, cast out and made a criminal by someone he thought to be a friend. Headlines and news stories ran constantly, calling for the immediate arrest of America’s prized soldier and a handsome reward from Stark Industries for his capture.Steve felt different, like something in him had snapped somewhere along the way and he had decided to let this new animal stay.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Something Borrowed @buckys-darling
summary: Modern AU - You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes for as long as you can remember. Small problem, though: he’s engaged to your best friend. So why not sleep with his?
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Their Angel @belovasbrat
Summary: bucky and steve have their sights set on you to be the third element to their relationship. you’re flawless in their eyes. their perfect angel. how long will it take for you to accept them?
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Spanking with Chris
Or bondage with Andy?
Spanking with Chris. Oral fem rec. Implied public sex. Sinday drabble #1.
You've been a brat all day and he's been quietly biding his time. Patiently waiting for you to do one more thing. He doesn't care what it is at this point.
And then you kick his bike. In front of his men.
Chris chuckles, slowly and so darkly that it sends a shiver down your back. All your brattiness drains away when you see the simmering rage in his clear blue eyes but it's too late now.
Before you can stammer out an apology, he's walking towards you, his worn dusty boots thudding louder and louder with each step. You back up until your thighs hit the edge of his seat. He takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks it behind him.
Without a word, he flips you over his bike, the soft padding of the seat cushioning your belly. "Wait, wait I'm sorry," you cry out, feeling his rough hands yank your skirt up.
He palms your ass, pushing your panties down. "No, you're not." He smirks down at your flailing body, his bottom lip rolling between his teeth as he focuses on your ass. "But you will be."
The first strike sends a ripple of pain across your ass that feels so good you almost moan. But you know better, if he ever finds out how much you love being spanked, he'll find a new way to "punish" you.
The feel of his calloused hand and his smooth metal rings on your skin has your pussy soaked, your clit throbbing, and begging for his tongue. He keeps slapping your ass over and over the pain building until you're crying out.
You've lost track of how many times he's spanked you but he knows exactly how hard to smack your ass, drawing out the sensations until he can see your pussy glistening from your arousal.
He chuckles again, this time his voice deepening with lust, and it sends another shiver through your body. "You're making a mess on my bike darlin'".
A cool breeze hits your heated cunt, his large hands spreading your thighs apart as he kneels down. "Guess I'll have to clean you up and then finish your punishment when we get home."
Your eyes widen and another wave of slick pours of you. Oh god, oh yes fuck yes. He's going to eat you out. From behind. On his bike. In front of his clubhouse.
His warm wet tongue slides between your folds and he circles your clit. It feels so good, you can't contain your sobs of pleasure.
He's so sloppy, the wet sloshing as he devours you echoing across the yard and you keen when he pushes two thick fingers into your cunt, his cold rings rubbing over your soft spongy patch sending sparks through your body.
His other hand digs into your ass, the pain mixing with the fiery sensations from his tongue. "S'good, its s'good". oh, fuck you're screaming but you can't control yourself.
He doesn't let up until he feels you cum around his fingers, his beard drenched as you cry out his name.
Standing up, he smugly observes your quivering body, smacking your ass one last time, a small cry slipping from your lips, you groan at the feel of your panties being slide back up.
"Learn your lesson darlin'?"
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Request: spontaneously dragging Bucky into random makeout sessions throughout the day and then just leaving him out of breath as you continue in with your business.
Sealed with a Kiss
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 821
Summary: You keep stealing kisses with Bucky and then leaving him flat...
Author's Note: Hi lovely! This is so cute and sexy and I love it! Thank you! I would kiss Bucky until the end of time! Hope you enjoy and you're having a nice day! HUGS! 🥰 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Jobean divider by the lovely @imerdwarf and line divider by the lovely @skylightlantern
Warnings: Soft and sweet with lots of kisses and some spice :)
Gif not mine: Credit goes to @buvky thank you so much🥰
Bucky walks out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips and droplets of water still trickling their way down the curves of muscle that line his chest. You saunter up to him, taking his face between your hands and kiss him.
With a shove you have him against the wall, the slow press of your tongue between his lips making a low rumble of pleasure rise from his chest. Your fingertips trace along his chiseled jaw then graze the strong column of his neck until your nails are dancing down his abdominals and combing through the small patch of hair that disappears into his towel.
His metal hand grips your waist and he pulls your body flush to his. You can feel how hard he is through the towel as you suck and nip on his bottom lip before softly kissing the tender flesh. Your lips move to the corner of his mouth then across his cheek and finally just under his ear where you kiss him softly and step back.
“I’ll see you later Buck,” you whisper, throwing him a little wink over your shoulder.
The meeting takes longer than expected and you’re so ready to leave. Bucky’s sitting next to you, his hand resting on your thigh as his thumb rubs small circles over the fabric of your pants. His legs are spread wide and his jeans are pulled impossibly tight over his thick thighs. None of this helps you remain focused.
When the meeting finally ends and Sam dismisses everyone you rush down the hallway with your hand in Bucky’s and as soon as you find an open door you push him inside the room. The door clicks shut and you stalk toward him, pushing him down until he’s sitting in one of the desk chairs.
He doesn’t say a word as you straddle his waist and rake your hands through his hair. You slowly bring your lips to his, at first just brushing them over the soft skin as your thumb brushes across his cheek. With a few more teasing touches you deepen the kiss and part his lips, tugging on his hair when he throbs beneath you.
His hands slip under your shirt and splay across your back, pulling you closer until you feel his chest brush yours with every breath he takes. He makes the softest moans and sweetest sighs the longer you kiss him and it’s almost impossible to pull away.
When you do, his eyes are dark and his lips are pink and swollen.
“I love you Buck. I’ll see you after yoga.”
You crawl onto the bed and between his legs, carefully pulling the book from his hands. Your fingertips brush along his forehead and trace the smile lines at the corner of his eye. Your nose softly bumps his and you tilt your head, lowering your lips in a feather light kiss.
His arms immediately circle around your waist and his metal hand ghosts along your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. You kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jaw and all the way down his neck until you meet his pulse point and then lightly suck on the warm skin.
You can feel him tremble, his muscles contracting with every touch of your lips. Slowly you drag your nose along his neck and kiss just under his ear before taking the soft flesh of his earlobe between your teeth and giving it a little tug. He groans and your lips meet his, swallowing any more sounds he makes.
You lift your head and start to roll off him, opening your mouth to speak but in one quick move he has you pinned under him and his finger covering your lips.
“I don’t think so baby doll,” he simpers.
“Buck,” you giggle. “You know I have somewhere to be.”
“I don’t care. You’re not leaving again.”
You realize there is no way you’re getting away as Bucky’s hard body presses you into the mattress. The next thing you feel is the strength of his metal hand as it closes around your throat and his other cradling your cheek as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.
You sigh into the kiss, into the weight of his body, the smell of him and it all overpowers you and you make a throaty sound you can’t control. Bucky’s hand at your throat tightens and he growls.
The kiss grows deeper, more demanding and long enough to steal your breath. Your nails dig into his back and you moan into his mouth again, unable to stop it as he rocks his hips into you.
He breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look you in the eyes. His own are dark, his long lashes lowered as he trails his tongue over his lips.
“You’re mine for the rest of the night,” he whispers.
@book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @in-umbra-gratia @saiyanprincessswanie @dreamlessinparis @bbl32 @musicalmuffindog1410 @moongreydreams
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Hi, I love your work, like for real top notch. Definitely my favorite account on here. And two could I possibly have like a blurb or something short( or how ever you want it.) of stripper!bucky reacting to the innocent reader getting nipple piercings. Lots of love😘😘
SUMMARY// Bucky gets nervous when you tell him you 'did something'
WARNINGS// Implied smut, mentions of piercings, pretty fluffy
AU// stripper!bucky x innocent!reader
NOTE// you have melted my heart into a puddle 🥺been awhile since I've done anything with stripper bucky, gonna have to fix that 😉
18+ ONLY MINORS DNI
Bucky hadn't seen you in a week, he was starting to get a certain homesickness for you. A craving that needed to be filled as he waited for you at his apartment, impatiently flicking through the selection on a streaming service.
Hearing the jingle of the doorknob, Bucky immediately put the remote down and sat straighter on his couch.
The moment you walked in, he noticed something different. The way you moved towards where he was sat screamed at him to ask what had changed.
"Something wrong, my angel?" Bucky asked, pulling you to his lap. Your knees straddling his thick thighs. "I... may have done something."
His stomach lurched. Those were never good words to hear. His mind racing with the thoughts of what had changed; if you'd found someone else, did something with someone else- if maybe he had tested the limits a little too much the last time he'd seen you. Though, he didn't think it'd be that, the pinching rule still stood and you'd always used it when you weren't comfortable in a situation. In and out if the bedroom.
"W-what, baby?" He said, swallowing thickly, trying to keep his breathing steady to hide how nervous he was. Your hands reached up to work at the buttons of your blouse and he puffed out his cheeks as he raised his eyebrows at you. "You're not trying to distract me with your tips as you give me bad news, are you?"
You breathed a laugh and shook your head, heat creeping up your neck. "Not that kind of something, Buck." You assured, pecking a kiss to the tip of his nose.
Bucky sighed in relief and nodded, hands resting on the tops of your thighs as you popped open the last button. Wetting his lips as your fingers worked at the clasp between your breasts.
"Holy shit, bunny." He groaned when he saw the two barbells piercing through your nipples. Slipping his hands up to hold your waist as he nuzzled his face against the valley of your breasts.
Your face burning when he let out a heavy sigh. "Do you not like them?" You mumbled, holding his sturdy shoulders. His left cold against your hand.
Bucky lifted his head to look at you with wide eyes, shaking his head. "I fuckin' love 'em- but, I can't touch." He stuck his bottom lip out, eyes flicking back and forth at the new jewelry before up to your face. "I love you more, though." He said with a cheeky grin.
You smiled at him, lacing your fingers in the back of his hair. "I was a little nervous you wouldn't like them." You said softly, looking to his bare chest. "That would be hypocritical of me. Since we match, now." He chuckled, gripping your backside as he pecked a kiss to your lips.
"Lemme show you just how much I like them." Bucky exhaled, hauling you up with him as he stood. "You have to be careful, though, Buck." You said with a pointed look, holding his shoulders as he walked towards his bedroom door. "I know, I know. Healing process, sensitive, sore- I got it, I can work around them."
"Good, because, I missed you." You sighed before your back met his plush mattress, Bucky's large frame hovering over you. "I missed you, Bunny. We're gonna have s'much fun with these-
"James." You warned, getting a chuckle in response.
"I can look, but I can't touch. I know, baby."
🤍 🤍 🤍 🤍 🤍 🤍
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Bucky Barnes | Series | Pride and Privacy
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader
Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff.
Plot: It's becoming a little hard to distinguish angry frustration from sexual frustration and both are feeling both.
“Anything new, James?”
“Have another social event planned.”
“Good. Are you excited?”
“Now, why would I be excited?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows in confusion at his therapist’s question.
“Because it’s fun.”
“I’ll know when I get there.” Bucky huffs and crosses his arms.
“Remember, drop the pride and enjoy life for once.”
“Now how can I possibly enjoy life when you keep nagging me?”
“I’m enjoying life, because I can nag you.”
“I can tell, doc.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but a smile cracks through his façade.
For Raynor, this is the first time she has seen Bucky genuinely smile and she wonders if you have anything to do with it. But deciding not to push her luck, she stops herself from asking about the dubious relationship he has with his roommate, afraid it will scare him off.
“Go to the party and enjoy yourself.”
“Is that your prescription? Can’t you just give me anti-depressants like the other therapists do?”
“With that serum running through your veins, I’ll have to give you a constant flow of anti-depressants via an intra-venous drip. Besides, the reason you’re not happy is because you’re stubborn and proud. Anti-depressants won’t cure that.”
“A party will?”
“Not with that attitude, it won’t.” Bucky rolls his eyes some more and stares out of the window when Raynor speaks again. “Your cure is already here, James.”
This week had you on edge. You kind of expected Bucky to barge into your room and make you finish the job a week ago, but what he actually did was worse. He just turned and left to his room after you closed the door in his face. Undoubtedly to finish himself off.
Part of you was disappointed that the needy, dominant Bucky you had briefly seen a flash of hadn’t taken over. On top of that, you severely underestimated how much your little payback mission would affect you.
As you were splayed out on your bed, your thigh muscles were aching and sticky with your own slick. Your pussy was throbbing demandingly, pulsating around nothing. You felt incredibly empty and your hands were tingling restlessly.
Squirming on top of your sheets, blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised it was only noon and you promised to watch a movie with Bucky. You couldn’t possibly sit with him in your current state, so to cool yourself down, you slide your hand into your panties and proceed to relieve yourself of your pulsing ache. The thought of Bucky doing the same thing two doors away from you caused you to edge to your orgasm quickly, but simultaneously frustrated you to the fucking bone.
Your flushed faces met when both of you opened your bedroom doors at the same time, eyes locking in on each other. Bucky’s skin is glowing and he’s wearing a pair of short sweatpants with a loose black t-shirt, his bulge evidently gone. The thought of what he just did made you suck in a harsh breath and swallow hard. What both of you did behind your bedroom doors was hanging in the air, the confession tangling with the silent, thick air between you.
Bucky swallowed hard at the sight of you. Your cheeks tinted with heat and your hair slightly messy, undeniably from squirming over the cotton of your sheets. Your lips were puffy and your skin was oozing your scent, a scent that had Bucky go insane. It took all his willpower not to drag you back to his bed.
Silently migrating towards the sofa, you started the movie you picked before the execution of your evil, little plan. Neither of you paid attention the entire two hours of the picture. If only you could have read each other’s minds, swirling with filthy thoughts and desires whilst sitting next to each other silently with your shoulders touching and the occasional twitch of his metal pinkie against your outer thigh.
All of this aroused Bucky inordinately. Never did he have to control himself so much. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want him either, your attraction towards each other was very prominent. Which made it even harder to keep your hands to yourselves.
So why neither of you give in to your desires, both of you have no idea.
“I’ll give you a call.”
You smile at your date and press a kiss to his cheek before turning and walking out of the café. After your little one night stand, he felt he owed you a proper date because contrary to your expectations, he felt there was something there. He showed up to your work to pick you up for a short coffee date and you couldn’t refuse. It was lovely and you found yourself giving him another chance, despite of what Bucky had said to you.
So with your mood lifted and happy flutters in your chest, you make your way back to your apartment. It’s already dark outside when you reach the front door of the building, the streets emptying as everyone heads home to eat. Grinning from ear to ear, you step into your tiny home and spot Bucky hanging on the sofa with Sam.
Your eyes connect with Bucky’s, his eyes dark and broody as always, and your happy flutter turns into …guilt? Feeling like Bucky is gazing straight through your soul, you divert your eyes to your mutual friend and give him a beaming smile.
“Sam! Good to see you!” You exclaim and drop your bag to the ground, taking off your coat and hanging it up. You kick off your shoes to make yourself at home.
“You too, little lady!” He cheers back to you, raising his beer in the air to your arrival.
Bucky peers at you over his shoulder, beer in one hand and the other arm draped over the back of the couch, looking cool as ever. “Thought you finished two hours ago?” He asks suspiciously.
You shrug and walk over, taking a seat in one of the large armchairs and purposely avoiding the empty spots next to Bucky. A smirk settles over your lips at his question and you give him a mischievous grin, your eyes connecting with his when you answer.
“Went on a date after work. With that guy. You know the one.”
A flash of something crosses his stormy eyes, but it is replaced by curiosity before you can identify it. He gives an unimpressed smile, cocking his head at you. “How was it?”
Your smugness falters slightly at his professional response and you turn your sight to Sam, who is listening intently and obviously wants to know the answer to Bucky’s question as well.
“It was really nice. He’s going to call me soon to take me to dinner.” You grin, your excitement genuine at the announcement.
After everything that has happened, you reasoned with yourself that Bucky’s effect on you would lead you nowhere. He is your roommate and is just in it to drive you up the wall -or to fuck you against it if circumstances would allow it.
The man you are currently dating is genuinely interested in you and it feels good to have someone actually admit to wanting to put effort into their relationship with you. It is obvious that your relationship with Bucky is unstable and unpredictable at the moment. You don’t mind a bit of a challenge, but your common sense makes you choose for the safer option, despite your vagina screaming at you in protest.
“You staying for dinner?” You ask Sam and he shakes his head.
“Nah... I actually have a date myself. I should go get ready.” He grins proudly and you grin widely at him as he downs his beer and gets up. He presses a kiss to your head and salutes Bucky casually before making way to the door and grabbing his jacket.
“Have fun, Sam! Let’s us know how it goes.” You wink at him and he chuckles, making his way out the door. “Oh! And wrap it!” You yell before he shuts the door behind him, earning you a loud laugh from the hallway.
When you turn your head back to your roommate, you find him already looking at you with his usual intense stare. You roll your eyes and get up from your seat, “What?”
Bucky shakes his head with a smile, “Nothing.” He gets up from the couch as well and walks over to the kitchen, “What do you want to eat?”
Walking over to the bathroom to take a shower and wash your day off, you hum in thought “Anything is fine.”
After dinner, both you and Bucky are hanging on the couch again to watch a TV show that you had gotten him addicted to. It’s quiet. So was dinner. Basically the entire week it had been quiet between you and Bucky. The communication between you two was minimal and there seemed to be a slight edge of resentment lining every interaction.
You can’t help but feel like there’s a certain hostility between the two of you. Of course there is, because you are currently even and neither of you got a happy ending. The incident in the bathroom has gotten you nowhere. To be completely honest, you had partly done it because you wanted to break him. You were tired of feeling like a helpless little girl every time Bucky flirted with you and you wanted him to know that you’re not some shy girl that doesn’t know how sex works.
The little favour you did him in the bathroom finally evoked the reaction that you wanted, but you should have known better. Of course a trained assassin has the skills and patience to keep his composure and not give you any insight whatsoever as to what you do to him. It frustrated you immensely. You desperately want to have an effect on the man that has you dripping wet with just his words.
The sound of a text ringing through your phone pulls you from your thoughts and catches Bucky’s attention from the TV.
Thinking about you…(08:53pm)
A grin appears on your face at the text from your date and you unlock your phone before starting to type a response.
(08:54pm) About what exactly?
Your body. (08:56pm)
(08:57pm) What about it?
Fucking miss it. (08:59pm)
You roll your eyes at his short replies and try to lure some more words from him, the idea of sending dirty texts while Bucky is sitting next to you turning you on more than your date’s pathetic excuse for sexting. When he starts getting more descriptive, you pull your legs up to your chest and eagerly text him back, chewing your lip as you wait impatiently for a response, only for him to disappoint yet again.
Bucky rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw tightly, returning his attention back to the TV. He knows what you are doing, you’re not exactly subtle. But the fact that you seem to enjoy it and that you’re so fucking eager makes him constrict his hands into fists. And when you let out a sigh, he loses his restraint.
“That hot, huh?” Bucky asks without his eyes leaving the screen and you don’t seem notice the bitter tone hiding in his words.
Your head shoots up from your phone and you frown at your moody roommate. There’s two things you can do. Be honest and tell him you sighed at the man’s futile attempts to get you all hot and bothered. Or… you could tell him that you’re thinking of heading out tonight to have sex with your little date.
Of course, Satan wins.
“Yes, actually.” You answer, feigning annoyance.
But Bucky isn’t having it and snatches the phone from you. Letting out a squeal, you dive over to him and reach for your phone, only for him to shove you back to the other side of the sofa with force. With an ‘oomph’ pressured from your chest, you land against the arm rest and watch him get up and walk through the living room, carefully reading through your texts.
His face is illuminated by the phone screen and you hold your breath as you accept the awkward fate of Bucky reading your dirty texts. What you don’t expect however, is him throwing his head back in a boom of laughter.
“Is this man serious?!” He laughs and shakes his head, locking the phone and throwing it over to you as it bounces onto the padding. You are seriously getting annoyed at his little arrogant streak and you grab your phone, peaking down to find one more text in your notification bar.
I’ll make you cum so nice (09:13pm)
Refraining from visibly cringing at the empty promise, you look down at your lap with a blush on your cheeks. Bucky has caught you red-handed trying to pretend that this man was getting you hot.
Bucky notices and his amused attitude slips away from him. How can you not see that you deserve someone that fucks you raw the way you beg for with your eyes? It makes his blood boil. Especially because someone made you believe that you have to settle for this, maybe even that this is out of your league. The thought makes Bucky want to smash up the place.
“Jesus… I get that I’m a little older than the guy, but surely he’s old enough to know what to say to turn a woman on, right? Even if he’s too fucking stupid to follow through with it.” Bucky grumbles, visibly annoyed. You finally look up, throwing your phone to the other side of the couch and heaving a deep, disappointed sigh.
“Can we just watch TV again?” You ask, avoiding Bucky’s gaze like the plague.
Studying your face and seeing your disappointment, Bucky decides to sit down again, a little closer to you this time. After five minutes of silence, he turns to you again.
“You deserve better than him, you know.”
“It’s just sex. Just shut up about it.” You hiss at him and cross your arms as you sit back, not even bothering to take in the meaning of his words. Eyebrows raising in surprise at your attitude, Bucky rolls his eyes at you.
You grit your teeth at his words, every nerve in your body on fire now. All your frustrations, sexual and furious, channel towards Bucky and you snap your head in his direction. Eyes narrowing in on him, you take in his arrogant expression. Upon seeing your glare on him, he turns to you, smirking at the look on your face.
“What is it, darling?” He asks sweetly, his voice leaking mockery.
“You can stop with the arrogance, Buck. It’s unattractive.” You calmly tell him, managing to keep your fury at bay a little longer.
“Is it? Your boyfriend seems to think it makes him attractive.” Bucky fires back, his need to push your buttons again growing once more. He is addicted to getting under your soft skin.
An idea pops into your head and before you can stop yourself, you give Bucky an innocent smile, “Jealous?”
Bucky smiles at that. Not fazed at all, not an ounce of anger in his posture when he hears your words. Staying silent, you wait for him to respond. No longer able to deny your need for him to admit that he cares even just a little, you gather your patience and watch that devilish smile on his face.
“Of a man that can only make empty promises? No. When I promise to make a woman come, I follow through.” He answers coolly, sitting up as you stare at each other. It’s like there’s a thin string sprung with tension from your mouth tied to his and you’re trying to fire back and forth without the string snapping, waiting for who makes the string give way first.
“No promises made then?” You spit at him, your eyes still narrowed.
The string frays a little more and Bucky heaves a heavy sigh, his breath shaking slightly as he clearly tries to restrain himself. His tongue runs over his top teeth as he thinks through all of his options. The air is thick as you wait for him to retaliate.
Then the string snaps and Bucky stands to his feet and turns to your frame on the couch.
“You want me to make a promise, darling?” He seethes and leans down and over you as you back away into the frame of the couch. His hands sink into the padding on each side of you, his face inches away from yours as his bulky figure blocks your view from anything but him. “Because I can promise you -I can fucking promise you that if you let me, I’ll make you come so many times you’ll be crying for me to stop.”
Your breath hitches in your throat and your throbbing pulse immediately drops down between your legs, hammering against your panties. Bucky leans in further and your eyes close when his lips touch the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over your skin.
“-and that’s without using my cock.”
When he backs up slightly, your eyes connect, his forehead an inch away from dropping to yours like you know he likes to do. The faint glow of light coming from the kitchen shows you that the blue in his eyes has almost completely vanished, his pupils reflecting his hunger.
You’re not exactly sure why you don’t just nod your head to get what you so desperately want. Perhaps you need to be sure that if he’s going to do this, you want him to want it. You’re done trying to constantly prove each other a point only to leave the other one hanging. But one thing is for sure, what you’re about to say isn’t the way to get that…
“You talk too much.” You scoff and you roll your eyes, not showing him any sign that the proximity combined with his words are wrecking you.
Bucky smiles at that and you curse inwardly at your inability to expect this response from him. Everything about Bucky oozes dominance, his current smile included. Which is why it surprises you that he sinks down to his knees, your eyes moving down while staying connected to his.
“You’re right, princess. Let me put my mouth to better use and I’ll show you not to roll your eyes at me unless I make you.” He speaks lowly and before you can protest, he pushes your thighs apart with force, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you forward harshly.
You let out a gasp as he pulls you under, your hands flying to his as he buries himself between your legs. This time, you manage to tame your inner brat and suck in a breath as you wait for his next move.
A smirk tugs at his mouth at the small victory, his eyes moving down to his next destination when he moves his lips towards the soft flesh of your thighs. Letting out a content sigh, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and tighten your grip on his hands.
Bucky’s mouth slowly moves upwards, nibbling and sucking at your hot skin. Your breathing gets more and more shallow in anticipation and you can’t take your eyes off the brunette between your legs. His grip on your thighs tightens as Bucky tries to keep his own impatience at bay. Your arousal soaks through your panties and Bucky’s eyes almost roll back at the realisation, thanking any and every God that all you’re wearing are panties with long sweater.
He gives you one more tug towards his face and his warm mouth encloses around your pussy through the fabric. The heat against you makes you shudder and one of your hands flies to his soft hair, starting to rake your finger through his locks. Finally, you get what you have been craving.
The feeling of his mouth through the fabric of your panties is frustrating, giving you enough to make your thighs tremble but not nearly enough to satisfy you. You barely notice his hands stroking up the outside of your thighs and hooking around the fabric of your soaked panties.
It’s like your body is trained to obey him, because Bucky almost scoffs at how easily you follow his silent commands and let him take off your underwear. Stuffing your panties into his pocket, he wraps his arms back around your thighs and pulls you closer again.
“Move away again and I’ll make you regret it.”
You open your mouth to make a snide remark, but an unstoppable moan drifts from your lips when Bucky’s mouth attaches itself to your aching core. The wet sound of his mouth moving over you and the sensation of his tongue sliding through your folds makes your head drop back in ecstasy, letting out a content sigh at the relief.
Both your hands are buried in his hair now and you whimper softly at his actions. His fingers are digging in your flesh as he laps at you eagerly. His grip on you is unfaltering and he leaves you no space to move, locked firmly in his hold. Your wetness, your heat, your sounds… it drives Bucky insane. The taste of you makes him wonder why the fuck he hasn’t gone on his knees for you before.
He prods his tongue into you and you actually clench around the muscle, causing a deep groan to rumble through Bucky’s chest. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he is taking his sweet, sweet time. Bucky’s soft, praising hums make you tug his hair as he licks and sucks at you perfectly.
Your high is approaching quickly and when your moans raise in pitch, he buries his face further into you, his mouth closing around your clit and sucking harshly and repeatedly as wet sounds make his mouth water. Back arching and fingers tugging at his hair, you moan and whimper helplessly.
“So good, Bucky. Fuck. So good.” You gasp and his eyes open to look up at you.
Bucky had no idea he was craving the sight of you from between your legs this much. Your chest rising and falling quickly, your face flushed, your deliciously soft lips puffing out air as he works you closer and closer to your high.
“Wanna come. B-Bucky… Please let me come.” You beg when your eyes connect with his for the first time since he started feasting on you.
Bucky smiles and nods against you, not wanting to take his mouth off you for a second and wanting you to come just as badly as you do. Your breaths hiccup in your chest and every whimper floats into a broken moan. Your jaw falls slack and your stomach tightens before you allow your high to crash over you.
All of your muscles contracting and trembling at the tension, Bucky licks and sucks you through the best orgasm you have ever had. Your body writhes and shocks against his mouth as he doesn’t cease his murderous skills.
Your palms press against his head, trying to move him away from your sensitive core, but Bucky lifts your right leg over his shoulder, his hands sliding under your ass and pushing you upwards to his mouth harder. He’s not even close to done with you.
Your hands fly to the cushions to retreat and pull away, but Bucky is a hundred times stronger than you and you might as well not have moved, because you’re stuck in your position. You sputter and gasp, trying to explain to him that another orgasm won’t happen, because it’s simply not possible. But when Bucky’s thick finger pushes into you, curling up and making your entire body jerk upward, you swallow your words.
Slowly sliding in another finger and stretching you delightfully, Bucky removes his mouth from you to get a better look at you. The calloused pads of his fingers drag against your walls and you mewl at him as your body weakens.
“Good girl.” He coos, “You’re going to give me another.”
You nod powerlessly, almost desperately. At this very moment, all you want to do is please Bucky and for him to continue praising you as another gush of your slick drips onto his hand. Bucky has to keep himself from gawking at you breathlessly and the way your body responds to him so well.
You start squirming, the approach of your second orgasm giving you a lot of mixed signals. You think you might die and your body wants to flee from him, but at the same time you need this. You’re so close. So fucking close.
Bucky faintly notices some buzzing next to him and he watches your phone light up. When he recognises the name on the screen as your date who’s calling you, an evil plan brews in his brain. Without giving it much more thought, he answers the call and puts it on speaker, turning off the sound but keeping the microphone on.
You can’t breathe out anymore. You keep gasping for air, your whimpers broken and incomplete. Another orgasm crashes on you like a drowning tsunami and you sink into the soft couch weakly, waves of pleasure making your body twitch. Curling his finger over and over, Bucky helps you through your high, making it last as long as possible.
Bucky’s own arousal is clear through his jeans, but knowing your little date has just heard you come because of another man makes him almost come undone himself. He can’t help but feel like the most powerful man when he ends the call and focuses back on your current ruined state.
“Dirty girl.” He chuckles menacingly as he removes his fingers and spreads them, showing your slick before licking his hand clean and humming at the taste. “But so fucking good. Such a good fucking girl. Jesus…”
You keen at his praises, your eyes fluttering as you try to make your ears stop ringing. His hands, cold and warm, stroke lovingly over your thighs as he peers up at you.
Nodding your head, you finally feel yourself return back to earth. Your entire body is buzzing with pleasure and satisfaction, your bones feeling like rubber.
“Good.” Is all you hear before being flipped over, your knees touching the floor as you’re bent over the cushions you were just laying on. Bucky lies down on the floor beneath you, his hands on your ass as he pulls you down onto his face again.
You immediately buck up at the feeling, whining at the feeling. Unfortunately, your legs are way too weak to fight Bucky’s hold and he pulls you down, giving you no other choice but to rest your weight on his face. He flattens his tongue against you and you sigh at the feeling.
“B-Bucky! It’s too much… I- I c-can’t…” You stutter tiredly, your nails digging into the seat of the sofa.
“You can take it.” Is all he tells you before continuing his torture on your pussy. You’re gushing for him now, surely soaking him and possibly drowning him. But the arousal together with you moaning his name drives him to keep going and to never stop.
A third orgasm hits and you barely notice it because it just seems endless now. Knowing you’re getting overwhelmed and weak after another orgasm, he grabs your hips and drags your body over his lips, helping you chase your fourth orgasm. Tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re a whining, blabbering mess with your face buried into the cushions. Gasping for his mercy, Bucky pushes his finger into you again, just adding pressure against your entrance and sucking at you relentlessly.
“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky-” You chant, not sure what it is you want from him, but his name being the only thing you can think of. An earth-shattering, completely overwhelming climax electrifies your body and you scream as you bury your face into the cushion, your teeth sinking into the fabric. Your eyes roll back into your head and your thighs shake relentlessly around Bucky’s head.
You shake and quiver over him as he rides you through your high for the fourth time. Your paralysis seems to last a lifetime and you let out sobs of pleasure, your vision blanking completely. You sink down, your limbs completely giving out as you give up fighting Bucky. There’s not an ounce of physical or mental strength left in you.
Showing you mercy, Bucky finally climbs from under you and kneels behind you, attaching your back to his chest by pulling you up by your hair. His breath fans over your skin and his arm slips around your stomach to keep you upright.
“You gushed all over my face, darling.” He murmurs, his low voice rasping in your ear. “Just like I wanted. You did so well. So good for me.” He breathes and presses soft kisses to your flushed skin.
You shudder at the sudden chill, a thin layer of sweat drying on your skin. Bucky turns you around and sits you on the couch, still kneeling between your legs. His palms slide up and down your thighs as he tries to lure you back from your haze.
“Come back to me baby.” He calls out quietly and your eyes flutter open. Glazed over and lids hanging over them, your eyes connect with Bucky’s and he gives you a sympathetic smile. You smile at him lazily.
His heart constricts at the sound of your voice calling out his name and he pulls you closer, his hands sliding around you, under your shirt and up your back. He strokes your back tenderly, massaging your muscles with his palms, and leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. He whispers your name and you sink into him at his affection.
Picking you up and wrapping you around his torso, Bucky carries you to his room, tucking you in before climbing in himself after undressing. Every few minutes, your body still shudders with after waves of your pleasure. He tangles his legs with yours and pulls you into his chest tightly.
And for the first time in days, Bucky’s mood fades and he relaxes.
“Bucky! What the fuck?!”
He shoots up from the bed, forcing his tired eyes to open and figure out where your voice comes from. When he sees you standing in the door opening of his bedroom, he frowns. He doesn’t remember you slipping out of bed.
Bucky barely gets to process his slow morning thoughts when your phone is launched at his chest and he complains at the pain from the device hitting him. He wants to ask you why you came in so angrily. He was sure that you would be in a good mood after last night’s events. But when his eyes drop to your screen and he notices some very distressed messages from a very angry man, it clicks and he remembers the little ‘phone call’ get got.
Pressing his fist to his mouth, Bucky actively tries to stop laughter from bubbling up. His shoulders shake and his eyes shine with humour when they connect with your furious ones. He watches you cross your arms, looking at him and clearly waiting for an explanation.
“What do you want me to say? Huh?” He asks and his amusement gets replaced by slight annoyance. “I’m not sorry, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t believe you.” You breathe, exasperated by his actions and response.
Bucky shrugs indifferently and looks you up and down. You look good. Still wearing your long sweater, the sight of your thighs poking from underneath the hem makes his mouth water. Your hair is messy, but in an adorable way and Bucky wants to hug you and bury his nose into it.
You notice him staring and give him a stern look, but the mischievous glint sparkling in his puffy eyes makes your melt and you can’t manage to stop your own smile from breaking through.
“How do you feel?” Bucky asks to change the subject, eyes still on yours as he copies your smile.
“Good.” You admit with a shy smile, a soft blush creeping to the apples of your cheeks, “Really good.”
Your quiet voice makes Bucky’s heart flutter and he sits back against the headboard, raising his hand at you and making a ‘come hither’ motion at you. You lick your lips, the silent command igniting the throbbing between your still weakened legs once again.
Slowly climbing over the bed, Bucky’s grabby hands move you over his lap until you’re straddling him. His hands slide under your sweater and up and down your back. He’s warm and soft, his perfect lips puffy from sleep and his eyes glistening contently.
“You look pretty.” Bucky murmurs and you’re shocked at the confession. You don’t remember ever getting a compliment this genuine from him and it makes your stomach churn. A deep blush rises to your cheeks again and you tangle your hands into his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly.
You don’t want this to stop.
You don’t want to leave his bed and go back to being roommates who aren’t supposed to sleep with each other. Trying to actively shake away the thought, you bury your face in Bucky’s neck. Soft lips press kisses up and down your neck, making goosebumps appear on your skin. His comforting hands stroking your back and his lips on your skin make you want to melt into him and you close your eyes, sighing contently.
“I have a party next week. Please come.” Bucky breathes and you groan softly, your hands slipping under his shirt to warm them up.
“Can’t we just stay here for eternity?”
A deep chuckle rumbles through Bucky’s chest and your body warms at the sound.
“Yes, you’re right.” Bucky concludes. He’d do anything you asked of him. “But Sam might murder me.”
“Good. That means I don’t have to.” You mock him and get pulled from his neck by his large hand tangling in your hair again.
“Now why would you want to murder me?” He asks, feigning offense with a smile tugging at his lips.
“Want a list?” You arch an eyebrow at him and let out a soft giggle. Bucky shakes his head in amusement and pulls you closer, his lips connecting with yours.
Your shoulders sink as you weaken at the kiss. Two fingers hooking into the chain of his dog tags, you respond to his kiss with yearning and sigh against his lips. You have only kissed Bucky once and it’s like you forgot how magical it was. Granted, this kiss is much different from your first, but never had you experienced a kiss quite like the ones with him.
Bucky pulls you closer against him and hums into your mouth, wanting to swallow you whole by how soft you are. You’re all heavy and soft on top of him, your body sinking into his perfectly. It makes him realise that he never wants to not touch you.
So pushing away the inevitable confrontation of reality, you both stay like that for as long as possible.
“She’s not the right person to have as your go-to, James.”
“Because you’re dangerously close to catching feelings for her.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because she isn’t special.”
Dr. Raynor stays quiet as she studies her patient, thinking over his words as she taps a pen on her notebook. She wonders if he really doesn’t notice that he is constantly contradicting himself. Barnes is a smart man, but everyone has a blind spot. Bucky resists the urge to fidget under her stare and waits impatiently for her to speak up.
“Is she like the other women you slept with?”
“I didn’t sleep with her…” Bucky thinks for a second before shrugging “But yeah. I just know her a little better.”
“And she feels the same way?”
“Good. Next session, you’re bringing her along.”
TAGLIST : @thegirlwiththeimpala @raindrcpsangel @wednesdayismyfunday @annestine @browneyedgirl365 @auntiebyn @rivers-rambles21 @spaaceprincesss @ladifreakingda @destelle @heretokilltime @slut-for-bucky-barnes @lucymfer @aliensister17 @the-dragonsqueen @feffffffy @wandavisionlove2800 @mynameberose @a11ys0n @jespers-comfort-goat @likeit-or-leaveit @lianadare18 @angelicrogers @delaber @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @barnesafterglow @arikarapli @luc-ale @perpetually-exhausted-and-tired @shameless-klutz @thatsmyfavoritewhiteboy
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What they’re like when you’re on your period
Steve, Tony, Bucky, Loki, Natasha, Wanda, Thor, Sam, Bruce. (I haven’t proof read this so there might be some mistakes)
•he was worried to begin with.
•he had woken up and you had bled on him, he thought he had hurt you from the night before.
•After 10 minutes of apologising, you managed to ran off to quickly sort yourself out, after promising to change the bed as soon as you get out.
•when you where finished to came back to see the bed remade, with a sheepish looking Steve, who had a blush nested on his cheeks.
•“I,uh, kinda did a little research”
•he had a few bars of chocolate on his hands.
•you settled together in bed, you were hesitant but Steve brushed of your worries.
•“it’s only a pair of short”
•he wasn’t used to them.
•he normally kicked the girl out as soon as the sun rised the next day.
•he made a very somewhat embarrassing call to his assistant pepper, asking what he should do after find a small puddle of blood on the bed.
•when you went to bed that night tony wasn’t there, your cramps were bad at the moment so you were planning to ride them out before adventuring around his pent house to find him.
•then he arrived with a small heat pad, he gave you a cheeky grin before handing it to you and snigggling behind you.
• “thank you ,Tony”
• he remembers learning about periods off his ma and sister.
• he always tried to listen but got embarrassed when they got a little to much into it.
•so when you came home holding your stomach, almost in tears from the pain, he knew it had to be your period.
•he cuddles with you, keeping you warm.
•he brings you all the treats you like.
•if you want some space is is more than willing to let you be, as long as you want it, and will be on you the second you give him the green flag.
•he doesn’t really understand it
•but when you almost yell at him after he held you a little to tight around the stomach, he felt like he needed to know more
•he couldn’t ask anyone so he decided to do some reading.
•he’s shocked, with all that happens, bleeding, pain, your hips widening…
•he’ll try his best and will ask you every time he’s doing something if it’s okay.
•he’ll practice some spells to help with cramps
•he’s trying his best
•she knew you were in your period before you did. She likes to plan head, she also tracks your cycle.
•she was be carful with everything she would do, gentler kisses on your head, playing with your hair while cuddling.
•she’d make you tea, coffee, you name it.
• “come on, honey. I’ll make you something to drink”
•you could probably get away with murder because she’d do anything you’d as. Well, she’s do that even when you’re not on your period.
•you’d be dating for a while, and your cycles would start to happen at the same time.
•but the first time it happened while dating you bled through your trousers, and you were freaking out.
•Wanda could hear your distressed thoughts, and helped you out, and you thanked her with a red face.
•but when you’re been dating awhile you’d stay in and watch movies and eat junk food.
•if one of you have cramps it’s a unofficial rule to get them some medicine to help the other.
•he freak med out when he saw blood on your pyjamas after you got out of bed.
•he rushed to you and frantically asked if your okay and ￼immediately thought he hurt you the night before.
•you were confused asking what he was on about, and when he told you it felt like your face was one fire.
•you nearly died if embarrassment when you had to explain what a period was and why is happened.
• “ahh! A natural test for a pregnancy!” He all but yelled, making you push your hands into your face.
• he’s treat you like a queen when he was told by loki (who scary enough ￼knew a lot about the human body) about how they effect you, cramps, mood swings.
• he’d try and find things that would help you, asking his mother if she possibly knew a spell that could help.
•he’d be scared to touch you but once you explain that the pain comes in waves and isn’t always there he’s quick to hug you, thankful he won’t hurt you
•he’s an overall underrated softie
•he’s had a bit of experience, with a few past girlfriends, so he keeps products you may need at his place.
•so when you said you had to cut date night short, after a very embarrassing explanation about getting your period, he was quick to shut you down, explaining how he had period product in his sink cupboard.
•after you had everything sorted he started a movie and you two snuggled up and enjoyed the rest of the evening.￼
•Sam makes sure your alright, getting you anything you fancy/crave and always has a heat pad at the ready
•Sam doesn’t really care that your on your period, it doesn’t gross him out or make him uncomfortable because it’s an natural body function.
•he’s a little shy about it.
•he’s not grossed out by it, not one bit, but he’s shy.
•you’d be holding your stomach while lying in bed with him and he’d ask why’s wrong, only for his ears to turn red with embarrassment.
•he would do small things for you, leaving chocolate on the side for you, always making sure there is some painkillers.
•when you’re in bed with him he’d stroke your stomach lightly, soothing you.
•Bruce would never admit it, but he secretly loves it when your on your period, he doesn’t know why, but he does.
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a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!
wc: 4.1k words
[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]
Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.
Notice how you said night?
Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.
And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?
(Great choice on your part, by the way.)
Well, because of your neighbor.
You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.
But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.
But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.
Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.
You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.
But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.
The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.
You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.
But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.
"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.
"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.
It was him.
"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,
"Keep the change."
"Thanks, and your name?"
He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'
"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.
That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.
As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.
You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.
"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.
"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."
"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.
"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.
"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"
"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.
"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.
You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.
"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.
He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.
For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.
Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.
"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.
"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.
"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.
"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.
"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.
He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.
"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.
You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.
"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.
As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.
The girl who works at this café is annoying.
But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.
He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.
But it was a nice gesture.
Why can't you just take a nice gesture?
Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.
He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.
You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.
Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.
Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.
He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.
But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.
He hates how lonely it gets, though.
Bucky wishes that he had someone.
Someone who could understand.
And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.
Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.
But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.
But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'
Or that's what his therapist says.
"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.
He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.
Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.
He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.
Who he was.
"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.
"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."
"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.
You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.
Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.
Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.
He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.
Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?
But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.
All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.
But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.
He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.
Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.
He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.
Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.
Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.
But there was no one.
And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.
Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.
But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.
For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.
He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.
For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.
There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.
Well, in your own apartment, of course.
And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.
As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.
He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.
You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.
After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.
He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.
But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.
Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.
You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.
You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.
As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.
The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.
You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.
You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.
You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.
You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.
You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.
"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.
"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.
You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.
He seems to have this issue quite often.
Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.
Well, nothing you did on purpose.
Nothing you were aware of at the time.
Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.
"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.
"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.
"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.
"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.
"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.
"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.
The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.
As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.
He was attractive, you'll admit.
Okay, he was more than attractive.
"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.
"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.
"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.
"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.
"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.
"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.
"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.
"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.
"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.
"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.
"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.
"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.
"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.
"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."
"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.
You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.
"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.
"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.
"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.
"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.
"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."
Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.
"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."
You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.
He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.
You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.
"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.
six months later
You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.
"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.
"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.
"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.
"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."
Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.
"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.
"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.
"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."
You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.
"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.
"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.
A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.
"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.
You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.
"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.
"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.
"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.
"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.
"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."
fin. i hope you enjoyed!
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the bodyguard | part 2
pairings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x chief of staff!female reader
summary: part 2 | the first day | the first day with your new bodyguard doesn’t go as poorly as you thought it would.
warnings: mentions of death threats/violence, mentions of stalker, cuss words lots of cuss words, mentions of ex-boyfriend (John Walker), James Barnes act like a goof in front of the president
You wake up the next morning and realize it was not a bad dream. You are being forced to have a real-life bodyguard. Wow. You make yourself your first cup of coffee and flip through the news. You have a busy day ahead at work making sure a bill gets passed through the senate. You get dressed and grab all your things, as you open the door Agent Barnes is already out in the hall waiting for you.
“Good morning.” He smiles.
“Jesus, did you stand out here all night.” You ask as you turn to lock your door.
You hear him chuckle to himself, it's a sound you quite enjoy.
“No ma’am. You shut the door in my face last night before we could discuss your morning routine but I figured someone with your job is out the door by 6:30.”
You turn around and glare at him. Sassy, observant, alarmingly attractive...well, isn't he just the whole package.
“What did I say about ma’am.” You continue your glare.
“Sorry, Ms. L/N, it’s a habit.”
You enjoyed the sound of your last name coming out of his mouth a little too much. You clear your throat and walk down the hallway. You tell him that you usually stop for coffee on the way and he asks if there’s any way your assistant can just grab that for you.
You tell him that you like doing it because you have a particular coffee order that no one ever gets right. He is reluctant but eventually gives in to your demands and takes you to the coffee shop before work. He stands in line with you as you order.
“Are you always going to be this close to me?” You angrily whisper.
“Yes.” He says without skipping a beat.
You sigh and order your coffee. James picks up on how everyone knows your name and your order…yet you still come in, stand in line, and order it every morning. Before you pay you turn towards him.
“Would you like anything?”
He seems shocked by your offer but politely declines. As you two wait for your coffee he asks why you come in every morning and stand in line if they know you and your order. This makes you laugh for the first time around him.
“You’re very observant, Agent Barnes.”
"It's my job." He says, and you notice his lips curve upward in a small smile.
You watch his expression for a little longer than you’d like to admit and eventually pull yourself away. Once you get your coffee you get back in the car and drive to work. The car ride is silent as you scroll through the emails on your phone. The only talking that takes place is the few calls you place before arriving to work. Once you arrive you attempt to open your door but James stops you.
“I got it.” He says.
He jumps out and opens the door for you. Instead of thanking him, you roll your eyes.
“I can open my own door.” You state and quickly walk inside the White House.
James is right behind you as you make your way to your office. Your assistant is already there and she’s confused when she notices James stop and stand outside the hallway to your office. She gives you a look and you just roll your eyes and let out a frustrated grunt.
Inside you prepare for your morning briefing with senior staff and the President. You are catching up on some paperwork when the President walks in through the connecting door from his office to yours.
“Good morning, Y/N.” His voice jolts you up from your seat.
“Good morning, Sir.” You say. When the President stands, so do you. It’s just an unwritten rule.
“Sit, sit.” He waves you back down and sits down on the couch in your office.
“I was just coming to see you, we have the bill in the senate today-“ you begin
“Where is he?” He asks.
You stare at him for a few seconds until you realize what he means. You sigh before reluctantly answering.
“He’s in the hallway.” You respond and attempt to take the conversation back to the bill.
“How did it go last night? Do you like him?”
“Yes, Mr. President." You fake a smile.
"Y/N...." he warns.
“Yes, yes. He seems very good at his job. Whatever." You mutter.
“Bring him in here I want to see him.” He smiles.
You groan and he raises his eyebrows at you. You sigh once more. If he wasn't the President or your boss you'd have half the right to flip him off.
“Agent Barnes? Can you come in here please?”
Within seconds, James is in your office and has all eyes on you. He doesn’t even notice the president.
“Yes ma’am? Is everything ok?” He says as he walks towards your desk, his face and tone are much more serious than you've seen so far.
This must be his bodyguard persona.
The President clears his throat and stands up from the couch. James spins around and you watch as his body tenses.
“Mr. President. Sir.” James says as he almost stands at attention as if he was in the military.
“Agent Barnes, it’s nice to see you again. Thank you for helping us with this. Take care of this one, yes? She's quite special.” The president says as he reaches out his hand to greet/thank James.
"Yes, of course, Sir." James aggressively shakes his hand back and nods profusely.
The President turns to you and smiles,
“I’ll see you in my office in a few minutes.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” you nod.
He walks out and James takes a deep sigh. He turns to you and you begin to laugh.
“I wish I had that on camera.” You continue laughing and James stares at you annoyed.
“Do you need anything else?” He asks, still in shock from his encounter.
“That’ll be all, Agent Barnes.” You give him a sarcastic smile.
He steps out of your office and you gather your stuff for your morning meetings.
Your day is as busy as you expected. You make it back to your office only twice throughout the entire day which means you only see James twice. After you meet with the senior staff you head back to your office to finish up for the night.
You walk in through a side door and your secretary rushes in.
“Yeah? Are you okay?” You ask.
“Yes um...Walker is here.” She mumbles.
You sigh and close your eyes. Fucking Josh. You make a mental note to yell at him later.
“Send him in.” You walk over to your desk and throw your stuff down.
In walks John Walker. Your boyfriend of 4 years. Well, ex-boyfriend for two years now. As soon as his eyes meet yours he smiles.
“Hey there.” He walks over to you and leans in to kiss your cheek before you abruptly pull away.
“Walker, what are you doing here?"
“I just came to congratulate you on the bill. We haven’t talked in a few days.” He sits down in one of the chairs across from your desk.
“Walker.” You sigh.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? Josh has to tell me?” He beings.
“Oh, no worries I will be talking to your bestie.” You roll your eyes and sit down behind your desk.
“For fuck's sake, Walker! It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.” Your pitch is slightly higher than usual, signaling you are annoyed.
“You have a fucking bodyguard standing in your hallway, Y/N. I think it’s a big deal. Is he even secret service? Is he trained?” His tone was now angry.
“Oh shut the fuck up, Walker. Of course, he’s secret service, of course, he’s trained. You think the president is going to give me some fucking idiot?” You fight back.
“Let me take you to dinner? We can talk more.”
“No.” You respond.
"Y/N. It's one dinner." He insists.
“I don’t have time -- “ you begin
“We passed the bill, you’re fine. Let’s go.” He stands up and closes his suit jacket. One thing about your ex-boyfriend is that you always enjoyed was how fine he looked in a suit.
“Not tonight, Walker. I’m serious.”
“Okay fine. Tomorrow.” He smiles.
You reluctantly agree and he leaves.
You finish up and you grab your things for the night. You walk into the hall and tell James you’re ready to go home.
On the way, the car ride is once again silent. After scrolling through a few more emails you let out a small sigh you didn't even know you were holding in and you catch James look at you through the rearview mirror.
You lock eyes and he quickly looks away and back towards the road.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Mhm. Long day.” You respond.
"I'm sorry." He offers as he quickly glances at you once more.
You weren't used to that type of reaction from a man so you just continue to sit quietly.
The rest of the ride is completely silent. Once back at your apartment he gets out and opens the door for you once more. He isn’t going to give this up. You sigh as you climb out of the car.
“I’m glad you don’t think I am an idiot.” He says as he opens the door to your apartment building. You stop in your tracks and stare at him. You have no idea what he’s referring to.
“With your boyfriend. You told him the President wouldn’t give you some idiot.”
Oh. He was listening.
You smirk in response and walk up the steps.
You let him enter your apartment first and once he’s back out he nods his head at you, his non-verbal affirmation that it was safe to enter. You walk in and turn around. Before you shut the door you say,
“Excuse me, ma’am?” He asks.
“Ex. He is my ex-boyfriend.” You smile and close the door. As you are closing it you catch James glance down to the floor and his lips curl upwards in that same small smile from earlier.
a/n: just setting the stage a little bit more...gotta get that build up going! next part dives a bit more into James Barnes...stay tuned! <3
taglist: @marvel-ous-miss-maisie | @stucky-my-ship | @dancer3205 | @capmanranger | @wooyugta | @marvelfansworld | @heretokilltime | @voguesir | @silentkiller2374 | @igotnoname4thisblog | @russosprettydiamondnow | @thegirlnextdoorssister
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Summary: You're a journalist who gets trapped in the GRC building the night the Flag Smashers attack it. What lengths will Bucky go to to get you back?
Word Count: 1.9k
“Buck, we got a hit,” Sam told him over the phone. His usual childish humor was completely absent from his tone, instead replaced with a rare intensity.
“Where?” Bucky swiftly responded, picking himself up from your couch and running to the bedroom.
“Right in your backyard. The GRC is voting on the Patch Act tonight, the Flag Smashers are planning to pay them a little visit.”
Bucky froze right as he went to grab his suit from your closet.
“Shit. Sam, I’ll be there, but I gotta call you back,” he rushed, fumbling with the phone.
Bucky hit the red button on the screen aggressively with his metal thumb before clicking on your contact.
“Come on, come on, pick up,” he grumbled under his breath, his grip on the phone tightening. Any more pressure and it would crush between his fingers.
“This is [Y/N]. Sorry I missed your call-”
Bucky cursed, hanging up before calling again at least five times. He let out a frustrated sigh before deciding to leave a voicemail. He waited impatiently for the beep, his foot tapping against the wooden floor at an alarming pace.
“Hey, doll, it’s me. I know you said you were out working tonight and, knowing you, you went for the biggest story- the GRC. But look… Sam got intel that the Flag Smashers are going to be there tonight. I told you I wasn’t gonna get you involved in this shit, honey, and I plan to keep my promise. So please call me and tell me where you are so I can come and take care of you-”
The beep sounded and Bucky’s shaking voice was cut off. His heart started to race and the feeling was so debilitating that an airy feeling began to overcome his body. The world faded to blur around him as he tried to gain his barrings.
“Come on, soldier,” Bucky grumbled to himself, taking deep breaths and trying to get his panic to subside. Frightful images flashed through his mind- you getting shot, you getting tortured. So much blood. Anger bloomed in Bucky’s chest at the thought of someone hurting you. He gritted his teeth before snatching his suit from the closet and racing out the door.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” Jimmy said from next to you. He was still holding his camera, but his hands shook so much you thought he might drop it.
“Well, I didn’t exactly expect terrorists to show up out of fucking nowhere!” You scolded, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible.
You were both cramped under one of the diplomat’s desks, trying to stay out of sight from the Flag Smashers that had just barged into the Meeting Hall. They circled around the room, guns in hand, ready to shoot the next person who steps out of line. When you first saw them you tried to make a run for it, but the doors were barricaded and the only way out was through the windows… a hundred stories above the ground.
“You should always expect terrorists to show up out of nowhere!” He freaked out.
You felt your phone keep buzzing in your pocket and you itched to grab it but with the way you were positioned in such a tight space, you couldn’t reach it.
“Jimmy,” you whispered to him.
“What?” He shot you a glare.
“I need you to grab my phone from my pocket. I can’t reach and you’re right next to it.”
“Are you serious?! If you call 911, they’ll hear you!”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not calling 911.”
You stared each other down for a few seconds, daring the other to back off. After a few seconds, Jimmy huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Fine, hold on.”
He shifted a bit, trying to wiggle his arms through the confined space towards your jacket. After a few failed attempts in which your phone almost dropped to the marble floor, he finally secured it in his hand, passing it towards you.
“Thanks,” you whispered before clicking on the screen.
The brightness nearly blinded you and you were quick to turn it down before it drew anyone else’s attention.
12 Missed Calls From Jamie
1 New Voicemail
20 Messages From Jamie
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, hurriedly unlocking your phone and tapping on his messages. They were all somewhat similar: Where are you? Call me back. Please tell me if you’re okay.
Your chest ached as you thought of how panicked he must be. Bucky had the biggest heart of anyone you’d ever met, and the idea of someone he loved being in trouble scared him more than anything- especially if that someone was you.
You: I’m okay
Jamie: Doll, where are you?
You: Top floor with all the diplomats. Flag smashers are here. Doors barricaded.
Jamie: I’m coming to get you, don’t do anything stupid
You: Hey! I don’t do stupid things
Jamie: Are you being sarcastic? I can’t tell over text
“Jesus Christ,” you let out, slapping your forehead with your palm.
“Okay here’s the plan-”
“No time,” Bucky interrupted as he barged through the front doors to the GRC building.
“What do you mean no time? Bucky, there are lives on the line-”
“I know that. Which is why I need to get up there now.”
Bucky’s breaths were ragged as he climbed the steps three stairs at a time.
“Bucky,” Sam started with a certain softness in his tone. “Who’s up there?”
“What do you mean? There’s plenty of people up there-”
“Who do you know who’s up there? I haven’t seen you like this in the field before- panicked, erratic.”
Bucky took a deep breath, pausing his movements on the stairs and clutching onto the railing.
“I… Her name’s [Y/N]. We’ve been seeing each other for the past few months.” He grimaced, uncomfortable with the sudden emotional weight of their conversation. “She’s a journalist and she’s up there and… I can’t let anything happen to her, Sam, I can’t…”
His voice trailed off as the images flashed through his mind again. The lump in his throat grew and threatened to force a sob from his throat.
“Okay, I understand,” Sam whispered. “But rushing into it with no plan isn’t going to help her. It might even do the opposite. So, here’s what we’re going to do...”
You noticed a few things about the Meeting Hall you were stuck in: the cries of panicked people as they tried to hide throughout the room, the red lighting that sent a shiver down your spine because of how ominous it was. What you didn’t notice was the figure in red, white, and blue barreling towards the window closest to you. The impact was loud and sent glass shattering to the ground. You jumped at the sudden noise and shielded your face from the shards of glass. You peeked out from under the desk, Jimmy right alongside you, and your jaw dropped.
“That’s Falcon!” Jimmy gasped in relief.
“I don’t think he’s Falcon anymore, Jim.”
“Sharon, Bucky, what’s going on on your end?” Sam spoke into his comms.
“Bucky,” You whispered before shooting up from under the desk.
“[Y/N]! What the hell are you doing?!” Jimmy called after you.
You ducked and dodged through the masses of people in your way, rushing towards where Sam stood heroically, shield in hand.
“Falcon- or, uh, Captain America, sir?” You stumbled, adjusting your outfit that had become immensely wrinkled since you put it on earlier.
He looked at you curiously before noticing the lanyard that lay on your chest.
[Y/N] [Y/L/N]- The Daily Bugle
“You’re [Y/N]?” He asked.
“Yes, yes, that’s me,” you told him while nodding quickly. “I heard you say Bucky’s name. Is he here?”
“Downstairs. I unlocked the doors, so start heading down, I’ll tell him to meet you. Be careful, we don’t know how many there are,” he warned.
His attention was quickly pulled away from you as a Flag Smasher came charging at him, knife in hand. Sam threw the shield so precisely it hit him right in the front of his calves, knocking the man off his feet and slamming his head into the ground.
“Go,” he repeated.
You quickly took off towards the stairs. Your legs moved so quickly, you were shocked that you didn’t fall at some point. They burned and begged you to stop but you refused. The only thing that was on your mind was Bucky.
Bucky. Bucky. Get to Bucky.
You were so caught up in finding him that you didn’t realize there was someone in front of you. You ran into them at full speed, smashing into their chest so hard it felt more like a wall.
“Ow,” you let out, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead as you stumbled back. “Shit, sorry about that.”
All you got in response was a chuckle, which then led to them letting out the biggest, most beautiful laugh. One that you’d heard many times before.
Your eyes shot open as you took in the tall, broad, and dark-haired figure in front of you. Tears stained his eyes although you couldn’t tell if it was from his laughter or from his utter relief that you were safe. Maybe both. But you didn’t take the time to think about it before launching yourself in his arms.
The first time he ever held you, you came to the realization that you had never felt truly safe before, because this, him, was what true safety felt like.
His arms snaked around your waist holding you to him tightly. He pressed scattered kisses across any ounce of you he could touch- your hair, forehead, cheek, nose, eyes, lips.
When he kissed your lips, it was meant to be a quick peck before he moved onto a different area of your skin, but you moved your hands up, cupping his face gently and pulling him into you further. He melted into your embrace, his lips melding with your own. The fluttering of his eyelashes against your cheek was familiar, and for the first time in hours, your anxiety eased.
“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips. “Love you so much, babydoll.”
“Love you too, Buck,” you whispered back, smiling brightly.
“Maybe stick to smaller stories from now on, huh?” He joked.
“No promises,” you snorted, rolling your eyes and pressing your forehead against his.
For all you know you could have been standing there with him for hours. Time didn’t seem to pass when you were around him. The outside world would blur, but he was clearer than ever.
“Come on,” he told you. “Let’s go home.”
He removed his arms from your waist but you instinctively grabbed onto his metal one, interlacing his fingers with your own. His heart skipped a beat, as it always did when you went for that arm. He didn’t understand how you could love it, how you could love him. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter, because you did.
“You okay?” You asked him softly, noticing his pensive expression.
“Yeah,” he responded, wearing a slight smile. “I think I’m finally okay.”
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