#beginnings of Bucky X Reader

[notafunkiller]

Sebastian Stan’s filmography: 2019-2023

#sebastian stan #my giffs #bucky barnes x reader #max burnett #tommy lee #steve kemp #nick fowler #mickey henry #lee bodecker #scott huffman #frank endgins beginnings #sebastianstan #sebastianstanedit #fysebastianstan #stansclan #sebastian stan gifs #sebstan #sebstanedit

[shadeysprings]

A Toast to New Beginnings

—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary — Reconnecting with your childhood best friend was supposed to be a wonderful experience—until it wasn't.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, drugging, implied kidnapping, childhood best friends to lovers with a dark twist, possessive Bucky and more that I could have forgotten.

Word Count — 1.7K

A/N — My second entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. And it was such a thrill to write for Bucky again. As soon as I was able to choose what item to pair with him, my mind just went berserk. I mean, how could you not?!

Shoutout to my beta @sgt-seabass. But all mistakes are mine alone.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

“It’s really good to see you again, Bucky.”

The smile you give him is mirrored on his face as he takes your empty plate, stacks it with his, and places them in the sink.

It’s been years since you last saw him, years since you ran away from home and established a new life in the city. You thought he would be angry for leaving him, your only friend in your small town, after you had both promised to be there for each other no matter what.

Though life back then was tough and unpredictable. And as a teenager, it gave you no choice but to leave everything behind, to escape the hardships. Including him.

The years seem to have worn on him with the way he’s grown. You couldn’t believe that this is the same Bucky you knew who roughed up the kids that made fun of you, and stole lollipops from the local store just because you wanted them. He was reckless back then, a bad boy as the old women called him. But now, he seems like an entirely different person and yet at the same time familiar. Like home.

Gone is the long hair you’ve always known him to have, recalling how he beat up the boys who teased him for it, and loved how his mother would comb it out for him despite saying how much he disliked it. Now, his hair is neatly trimmed with the shadow of his beard just kissing his face. He’s also grown bigger; muscles bulged from his shoulders and arms, almost making his navy henley shirt too tight for him. 

Guilt suddenly swirls around you, twiddling your fingers together as you remain seated at table and watch him tidy up the kitchen. You even take the time to observe his apartment—a complete bachelor’s pad. But you can’t help but notice the small touches he’s added that reminds you of his childhood home.

He’s never brought up the past once since you met last week by chance at the grocery store. Never once has he shown any emotions of betrayal for what you’ve done. But with you, it’s all you’ve been thinking about after parting ways and agreeing to his invitation to reconnect.

“You remember my mama’s eggnog back then?” He says, disrupting your train of thought, a smile still ever present on his lips when you look up at him.

You smile once more, the memory washing over you like a wave. “How can I forget? She always made mine with chocolate.”

“You always were her favorite,” he laughs heartily. “Liked you more than her own son.”

“Well, she always did want a girl. And I’m the closest thing to a daughter she’ll ever have,” you say with equal mirth.

“Yeah, yeah. Go sit on the couch.” Bucky instructs with a playful inflection in his voice.  You stand from the dining table, already making your way to the living room. “I’ll bring you a mug before I give you your present.”

“Present?” That surprises you.

Taking a seat on the couch, you finally notice a small red box sitting on the low coffee table, your name written on the card. You didn’t know he was preparing something for you, and you came to his place empty handed. If the situation were different, if this were to happen in the past, you would have teased each other about it. But with so much time wedged between the both of you, you can’t help but feel another bout of remorse and realize how much things have changed.

“Here you go.” 

You look up at Bucky and take the offered mug, the warmth radiating in your palms. He joins you on the couch, a mug for himself in his hand, and a smile grazes his face when he takes a sip. His blue eyes cast over at you, curiosity present. 

“You’re sad.” He says, turning in his seat to face you completely. “Did something upset you?”

Placing your drink on the table, you clasp your hands tight and stare blankly into nothing. Of course something upset you. Everything since Bucky came back into your life upset you. It wasn’t because he was part of the past you wanted to forget but more so because you abandoned him.

Yet here he is, making you meals and your favorite drink, the gift adding to the pain that you desperately keep hiding deep in your chest. 

“Bucky— I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” You look over at him when he interrupts, his mug now sitting beside yours. “You did what you had to do, I know. It took time to accept it, but I eventually did.” His hands then envelop yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. There’s a slight smile on his face, the same one that always brought you comfort whenever something troubled you. 

Slowly, he reaches over to give your cheek a gentle pinch, ultimately making you chuckle at the childish gesture. Your mug is placed between your palms, and he takes his all the same, sipping on it before nodding in your direction. 

“Go on. Mama’s eggnog always makes you feel better during the holidays,” he urges. 

“Well, she always made mine special,” you respond, sticking your tongue out playfully at him, and take a heavy gulp of the warm beverage. But your face twists when you swallow, a sour aftertaste scattering on the surface of your tongue that makes you look at your mug, then at Bucky. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

“No,” you say, trying to appease him, but the cough you release lets him know otherwise. “Just— I don’t remember it being this bitter.”

“Shit. I must have added too much cinnamon in it.” There’s a frown on his lips as he stands from his seat, holding his hand out for the mug. “I can make you a new one if you like. Probably hold back on the cinnamon this time.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” You tell him, schooling your features as you take another sip. “It’s still good. But maybe I can have a glass of water with it?”

“Already on it.” 

You take another mouthful as he leaves for the kitchen, hoping to get used to the bitter aftertaste. But it’s an endeavor you stop, placing the mug back on the coffee table and instead reaching out for the red box to guess its contents. 

But your heart begins to beat at a rapid pace, hands shaking uncontrollably, and you gasp when you feel your muscles tighten then loosen altogether, making you lean back against the cushions of the couch like a wilted flower as you try to decipher what’s happening. You try to call for Bucky to help you in your mysterious ordeal, but no matter how hard you try, no words leave your lips. And in just a matter of seconds, you’re rendered helpless and incapacitated. 

Your eyes widen when you see Bucky return, eyes cast down on you as he sets the glass of water beside your mug. He says nothing, not even questioning how you’ve come to be this way, yet there seems to be no sense of urgency permeating through him. And instead, he lets out a chuckle when he takes your legs from the floor and lifts them up to the couch. 

“Well, what do you know! It does have a fast reaction time,” he says with a grin, taking a seat at your side and reaching over to caress your face.

What? He did this on purpose? But why?

Confusion runs wildly in your head as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel nothing yet everything all at once; the sound of his heavy breaths when he leans closer, the heat that flutters on your skin when he grazes his fingertips against it, and the sight of his intense stare, how the blue of his eyes grow bolder, the concern and, dare you say, love in them earlier replaced with hunger, possessiveness and something darker.

“After years of waiting, I finally have you, my Dove.” 

That name. 

It’s been years since you’ve heard it. And it was only him and his mother who called you as such. The name that used to bring you joy each time you heard it. Yet now, it elicits fear in your chest.

Sapphire orbs bores into your eyes while his hand caresses your cheek. “Unlike before, I won’t let you go that easily.” His hand snakes down to your neck, then lower to your breast, taking a tit in his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “In all honesty, you did this to yourself. If you never left me, we would never be in this situation. We could have been married. Living a simple life on the outskirts of town. Maybe even here in the city.” Releasing your breast, he pushes his hand lower, skating down your blouse and stopping just at the edge of your jeans. With deft hands, he undoes the button and pulls down the zip, your chest pounding as you foresee the coming events, wanting to kick him away from you—but it’s no use.

You no longer see your childhood best friend, your protector through the years. What you see is a stranger, a monster, here to haunt you through the next.

He’s strong, pulling the fabric off your thighs and tossing them haphazardly to the ground. He then stands, eyes raking over your body, and you’re once more stricken with fear when he starts to undo his pants. 

“Now, I’ll make sure that you never leave me,” he continues, kicking his pants away and taking your legs in his hands, lifting them over his shoulders as he kneels before you. 

You do nothing but watch in horror and feel his ministrations when he pushes your panties aside and presses his thumb against your clit. He rolls it slowly, teasing, dampening your cunt with each stroke he makes, pulling at the pleasure you desperately tamp down, but all your efforts are useless with your body subdued.

He lines his cock against your cunt, feeling the way he rubs the tip against your folds, taunting to penetrate at any moment. 

“This time, I’ll make sure we’ll be together forever.”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #a toast to new beginnings #tbschristmaschallenge #mcu #tfatws #sebastian stan characters #shadeysprings fics

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (5)

summary: the time had come to destroy HYDRA and collect for all that had been taken from them...

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: descriptions of: blood, wounds, fights and weapons. probably gonna wake a lot of sadness since the begining. mentiones of suicide thoughts. heartbreak. stubborn characters. mentions of character deaths (canon). remember i'm not that good at writing action scenes and that English is not my first language!

note: hi guys! i didn't rest today at work. instead, i wrote 6k words for my actual hyperfixation and i'm actually exhausted. sometimes i write first in spanish and then in english, when my head is not up for the double translate, and leave the conversion to future me. this is future me talking and i hate myself for that. but i'm kind of proud how this one came out, so i hope you guys like it the same! feedback and reactions are always appreciated! see u guys next time <3

part 1

It was already getting dark when the small cellar you were in with your friends filled with applause and singing, a joy bouncing off the walls as you walked in Steve's direction with a grin from ear to ear. Your blond friend watched the small cake Peggy had gotten him that afternoon head towards him between your hands, setting it down on an upturned wooden barrel, a little damp, that they would use as a table.

Peggy and Bucky were off to the side, their faces matching your excitement as Steve reached down and shook his head.

“I don't even want to imagine how you got that cake in,” was the first thing Steve said when the happy birthday song ended, shooting you a grateful look. His eyes sparkled like you hadn't seen in many days and you felt Peggy's squeeze on your forearm as she came over to form a little circle just like Bucky.

“Trust me, you don't want to know,” Peggy shook her head, her smile matching the blond's.

You watched Steve split a piece of the cake with a spoon you had no idea where Peggy had gotten it from, your friend bursting out laughing when Steve raised his head and she smeared white cream all over his nose. At that moment you felt Bucky's body heat behind you, all your senses turning on at once.

“No candle, but you can make a wish before you take the first bite.”

Steve shared a look with his friend, still with that twinkle in his eye and the most relaxed expression he'd had in days. He was still wearing his uniform, having caught him by surprise to bring him into the warehouse after a long day of planning strategies for the next mission against HYDRA. You and Peggy had been thinking for several days about doing something, and being that it was rather difficult to throw a small party in the camp you were in, you decided to opt for something a little more ordinary and familiar. You couldn't say, however, that Steve didn't like it, not when you saw him smiling at everyone so openly, shoulders down and spreading laughter to everyone around him.

With the spoon halfway to his mouth, Steve closed his eyes and made a wish.

You smiled indulgently, watching two of your friends share a small moment as Steve took some more cake to give Peggy. With your hands behind your back, you suddenly felt Bucky's left hand make its way through your fingers, intertwining your hands very carefully.

“How's the taste?”

Steve shook his head nodding at your words, his brow furrowing in pleasure as he enjoyed the large bites he was taking of the cake. At that moment, all you could think about was how much you would sacrifice to stay in that bubble forever, even without knowing what was coming next.

-

“Are you okay?”

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, his body leaning against the second to last step where you had sat and turned away from the others. The routine you had had to get used to over the past few months, after believing you were going to change the world, had become a constant burden that was hard to shake off. Still, you took and cherished moments like those when you could go out and sit and just watch the vast sky stretching for miles. The stars shone so brightly there, in the middle of the forest, that they seemed like little beacons seeking to guide you to a better future; perhaps to a future that you did deserve. Steve also sometimes accompanied you in silence, having learned that he couldn't always argue with you about the meaning of life and the purpose for which you two had to carry out the unjust orders of superiors. You once saw one of his drawings, a woman sitting at the top of a flight of stairs and a starry night giving her a message of hope. Maybe he saw it the same way too after a while.

“Yeah,” you replied to Bucky with a tight-lipped little smile.

Bucky didn't know much about you now. As the weeks went by you realized it was true what he had once told you, when the America's couple shows and his platoon's stay coincided for the first time in months. You had changed a lot since the serum injection. And, well, who wouldn't, after all? That's why when you were together after so long he spent time very close to you, very aware of you, checking with his excellent senses that nothing was out of place. That you were okay.

You didn't know if he had believed you, by the way his face remained expressionless, barely a slight twitch of his eyebrows, but he didn't repeat the question.

“Do you think there's anything else for us, besides this?”

Bucky turned his gaze to look at the sky and you watched his profile, the curve of his eyelashes and his half-opened lips. Situations like that had become commonplace, too. Since you no longer spent so much time together and you had changed so much because somehow you had to adapt to the harsh reality against which you had crashed, Bucky constantly wondered many things about life that ended up being his own fears materialized in existential crises. For him his world was shaking. Since you told him that you had been invited to the Super Soldier project with Steve, everything had become uncertainty for him. Uncertainty about his life, about your life, about the life you wanted to have together, uncertainty about the future, uncertainty about life.

You had the conception that Bucky could never fully adapt to the abrupt change that meant his two best friends were involved in a private experiment that gave them heightened senses and more strength and speed than an average human. Now he seemed to looked at himself like the mere mortal who walked shoulder to shoulder with two gods. He seemed to feel that death would knock faster at his door and it drove him mad.

“Yeah, I don't think this is it,” you shook your head in assent, watching out of the corner of your eye as Bucky rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward a bit. His hands interlocked and parted, his fingertips met and parted, his fists opened and closed.

“But you'll outlive me,” Bucky looked down, his blue eyes glittering focused on yours under the moonlight. You could barely hear movement in the back of the hold where Peggy and Steve were still talking. Your heart flipped at the vulnerability you saw through his eyes, lately more common than you'd like. You didn't like not being able to quell those thoughts that dominated his head; the insecurities and fears that made him doubt so many things in the middle of the night.

“We'd live the same amount of time,” you assured him shaking your head, your own mind refusing to accept that Bucky's fears could take more power over him. Whatever you could do to calm him, you would do, always.

“You have the serum. You and Steve will live for many more years. Hell, maybe you'll even be immortals,” Bucky tried to smile, but a grimace settled on his face and made his words bitter. He was subtly trying to untwist his shoulders, barely moving to your side trying not to show too much that he was kind of nervous.

“Why are you telling me that now?” you shifted on the wooden step, moving a little closer towards him. Bucky tensed visibly, not because of the closeness, but because he knew the moment was coming when you would stop following his lead and start asking him what was really plaguing his mind. For some reason, Bucky couldn't approach those topics of conversation naturally, letting his mind and words wander a bit before daring to take his fears by the horns.

“I don't know… I guess. It's a truth I have to accept,” he confessed, his voice so fragile and soft that had it not been for the extreme hearing the serum had granted you, you surely wouldn't have understood him. You felt your heart crumple and moved your hand from your lap to cradle his hands that he still could not let still.

“But it is a truth that is still a long way from being fulfilled.”

“And first we have to get through the war,” Bucky turned his hands to lace them with yours, his fingers intertwining with yours and giving them a squeeze.

“We will. I have no doubt about it. In fact, I have a plan to persuade Phillips,” you smiled at him trying to lighten the weight on his shoulders a bit.

Little surprised, Bucky let out a laugh, his free shoulders shaking in sync with his chest. A beautiful smile spread across his face, and you would've enjoyed it except you could still notice his tired eyes and the dark traces beneath them. It seemed that the moonlight intensified the reality of his emotions.

“You always have a plan for everything.”

“What can I say? I'm an optimist,” you lifted your shoulders, leaning against Bucky's side. His head dropped to rest on the crown of your head, his breathing synchronizing with yours for a moment.

“Between the two of us, you definitely are,” he murmured, taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment for several seconds. “Sorry for… coming to bring up those topics of conversation.”

“No, it's okay. I like to listen. And you tend to do that sometimes,” you shook your head over his shoulder trying to dispel the topic, Bucky's hands tightening around yours.

“What?”

“You suddenly talk about things you don't want to tell me too much about and then put a little light-hearted attitude on it so it doesn't sound so serious.”

Bucky lifted his head, causing you to move in time to meet his surprised expression as well. His lips were trying to twitch into a smile, but he didn't seem to know if he wanted to laugh or frown.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“A little, yes.”

“Ah, I'm pretty bad at dissembling I guess,” Bucky looked up, finally succumbing to the smile. The gesture satisfied you enough to delve into the emotion with him, taking a moment to further enjoy that scenario you could no longer be a part of lately; to enjoy those everyday moments where you could feel love materially spark around you, as if it was a novel written solely to satisfy human romantic desires and whims.

You shook your head, returning to the subject.

“But you don't have to worry about my supposed immortality. I know we'll live the same,” you assured him once more, your arms wrapping around his right arm and squeezing it securely, hugging him, trying to send him some of the confidence you felt inside.

“How are you so sure?”

The truth was, you weren't, but you couldn't let him know that, much less let him know that you didn't expect his life expectancy to be as extensive as yours was now either. But how were you going to tell him that? He must've been martyred enough by his own thoughts during every moment of the day when they drowned him, and it wasn't as if you expected too much of a life after him either. You could have immortality served on a silver platter, but what would be the point if you had to spend it on your own? Bucky was thinking about not wanting to leave you alone, and you were thinking about the impossibility of finding a reason to live after him.

“Because I know I don't want to live forever if I'm not with you.”

Bucky stopped his light, ghost-like caresses on your fingers. He turned his face to look at you, his nostalgic expression disappearing in a matter of seconds. His blue eyes looked contrite, as if there was a storm inside them. You had never hesitated in your answer, no matter when he had asked. And yet you seemed to have taken him by surprise; it seemed that such a thing would never have crossed his mind even by accident.

“Y/N…”

“I'd be living in vain. Stolen time,” you shook your head, averting your gaze from the depths of his, an unknown kind of longing or fear furrowing across his features that you couldn't bear to see a second longer. You were there at that moment and you would see each other again later, why did you have to think about it too much?

Bucky sighed. Only when you felt his body relax against your side did you know he understood that it would do no good for him to try to antagonize you.

“Still, you deserve a life like this. After all you've been through,” his voice was barely a whisper that tore through the silent chill that surrounded you, but the implication of his words furrowed against your chest like a dagger. You shook your head before the memories could reach you.

“We all deserve it, especially in this world consumed by the greed of power and hatred.”

You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye, his hands wrapping around one of your hands, the one closest to his side and bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes were fixed on your profile, you could feel it, but you were afraid to turn to look at him and allow your emotions to come out. You were too sweet to succumb to strong feelings when you were with Bucky.

“Hey!” was Steve's voice, like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, making you both turn at the same time. “Peggy's just leaving.”

“Want a ride, Barnes?”

“Ah, it would be my pleasure, Agent Carter.”

Peggy moved, after saying goodbye to Steve and you, and walked in the direction of the huge forest that stretched into the distance where she had parked her car. Or Howard's car, you couldn't quite make out through the darkness.

“See you later, Miss I-don't-want-to-live-forever,” Bucky approached you with a half smile, having said goodbye to Steve, meeting him halfway to melt you in his arms. The tension in your shoulders eased considerably, a sigh making its way into your chest.

“Take care, Bucky,” you squeezed his waist, because you weren't tall enough to reach his shoulders in a hug, and he squeezed you back in response.

“Sure thing. I got to see my girl again, after all.”

You laughed between the hollow of his neck and shoulder, feeling your cheeks burn. Bucky broke away just barely to look at you with his own huge grin.

“Don't overdo it, Barnes.”

“Come on!” Peggy insisted, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

You broke away from Bucky, trying to push him to get into the car with his affianced friend, but he had other plans. In the midst of your struggle to push him away, he grabbed one of your wrists, using very little force to pull you close to his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a fleeting action, but not at all rough, barely a brush. Before you knew what happened he had already pulled away from you.

“When I get back, we have a lot to talk about.”

He never came back. He left in the next couple of days for the mission on the train and all you got back was a shattered Steve, his face dirty and sticky from all the tears he'd shed, his pleading eyes crystallizing on you the moment he had to tell you that Bucky had died. You could still remember how his voice cracked as he begged your forgiveness, repeating it over and over as if it would ease the burden he felt on his shoulders, the guilt for not being able to get him in time. You never blamed Steve for what happened, but it seemed like he did for a long time.

Reliving those memories was always a constant martyrdom. After Bucky's funeral you didn't think you could move on, but carrying all his pain in a sack of rocks, Steve assured you that they would avenge the reason Bucky had died. HYDRA. So you did and were able to carry on for a while until Steve was also declared KIA.

Peggy and Howard were a great help when you realized that you couldn't die on your own, because you healed faster than normal and could spend more time than humanly possible underwater. To say that you didn't try to leave the earthly world would be a lie, but your friends tried to help you in every way they could until you had to leave the United States. When you thought you would have to spend years hiding in Europe, Howard told you that wasn't necessary. Just staying under the radar and out of the feds' jurisdiction would be fine and he would take care of it. And one day, after spending a week in the apartment you were renting without getting out of bed for almost any reason, a knock on the door startled you.

“Correspondence,” rang through the silence of the apartment.

You only got up because you knew the mailman was wrong. You had given your address to absolutely no one and there was no way any person knew of your existence in that country. You thought you took pity on the man, when he handed you the letter and it did indeed have your name on it.

It was an acceptance letter from some university. Apparently you had enrolled to study mathematics.

You had a suspicion of what was going on, but something in your chest asked you to ignore it. The letter asked for an interview before classes started in exactly three days, and after that interview you received a letter from Peggy.

When Howard died you knew you couldn't go back to Europe. Largely because you had to find out who his killer was, but also because you wanted to watch over Peggy's life as you couldn't do for your other three friends. You were often terrified for your friend's life, especially having the job she had and dealing with all those powerful people who wouldn't hesitate for the blink of an eye to order her death.

Steve was right. You stayed with Peggy to investigate Howard's death. But you also stayed because she was the only thing you had left and you had to take care of her; you had to preserve her, to do everything you could to prevent another tragic and unnecessary death. You would've sacrificed anything in life just to allow Peggy to have the life she deserved. And so you did. You cared for her for many years, you were so attentive to her that her children called you aunt and then her grandchildren called you grandma; you were at all her family gatherings, giving gifts to her children at Christmas and celebrating each new year as you watched time pass through her eyes. Every January 1st you saw it as a win, a whole year in which so much sacrifice had been worth it.

Now… well, now everything was a bit more complicated.

Natasha had left the abandoned dam first after going over the plan one last time. You were supposed to go with Steve and Sam, even though Steve was reluctant to have you near the Winter Soldier again, as if you didn't have the same strength and agility as he did. Of course, his fear was rooted in something completely different than that, something he and Natasha had discovered with Zola.

“HYDRA spent years searching for you to recreate the super-soldier serum after the war. If not for the excellent work Peggy and Howard did, they probably would've found you more easily.”

Now, having such a palpable possibility of destroying HYDRA, you didn't think there was the slightest chance that they were still thinking about it, although Natasha stressed that it seemed to be that the soldier had two different missions when he found them in the middle of the city, one of them being that he was to keep you alive. Zhivoy, you recalled bitterly. Alive.

Steve didn't want to risk finding something else waiting for them when they reached the helicarriers, something that might lead you away from him. And yes, you understood his concern because it was the same one you'd felt for years and was more latent recently since Steve returned. But you weren't going to stand by like a fucking statue while they did all the work. You would take it upon yourself to destroy HYDRA completely and deprive them of any chance they might have to get close to Steve, you or Bucky again. Whatever you had to do, you'd do it.

“He's not the same,” you had told Steve, as you walked to the Triskelion in the company of Sam and Maria.

“But he'll remember us,” Steve assured, his hand tightly gripping the strap with which he held the shield. Steve had been repeating that to himself all day, even in front of Sam. You couldn't believe you were the one trying to maintain an objective demeanor in that situation.

“Yeah, maybe at some point. But right now it's not him, Steve,” you turned to look at him, his face fixed on the expanse of water surrounding the large building he used to work for. “He's not the Bucky we knew.”

Steve looked back at you, pausing for a moment. You knew he was mindful of it, you knew Steve was aware of how dangerous he was now; that there was a good chance he really didn't remember them and you wanted to make sure that wouldn't cloud his judgment; that he would still fight for his life.

But the resolve in his eyes didn't convince you. His lack of response fanned a hollow in your chest, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat as you stared at the empty space he left in front of you.

Steve was willing to bring him back and you were afraid of losing him.

For some reason, you felt it had to be different.

-

You heard Steve's voice over the speakers, running so you could find the helicarriers exit before they took off. Steve and Sam were supposed to meet you halfway, but you were already halfway there, fighting off a few agents, and you still didn't hear them nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as one of the STRIKE agents grabbed you by the throat while another plunged an electric baton into your side, the sensation of volts coursing through your entire nervous system sending you into a momentary state of shock.

You dropped your hands to stop struggling with the agent behind you and grabbed the wrist holding the baton with an overly strong grip, snapping the bone in place and jerking your head to strike the face of the man behind you as his grip wobbled for a second. Both agents fell to the ground, two bones broken in less than a minute. You grabbed the baton before departing, hitting them both in the head barely using half your strength, knocking them unconscious instantly.

As you exited the Triskelion facility to meet the gap you would have to jump over to intercept the first helicarrier, you heard Steve and Sam's voices closer. Oh, right, you forgot to use the communicator.

“Where were you?” Steve exclaimed, running alongside Sam closer to the chasm.

“You've got blood on your neck,” Sam pointed out, before spreading his metal wings and flying off into the sky.

“Put on your communicator,” Steve asked you just before you both jumped at the same time, a feeling of emptiness planting itself in the pit of your stomach.

You landed with your legs bent and leaned forward for a spin before getting up and continuing to run alongside Steve. You rummaged in one of your pants pockets, praying that the small devices hadn't been shattered during the fights you had inside the Triskelion.

Only one was spared.

Steve barely sent you a reproachful glance, shaking his head, as you approached a horde of HYDRA agents. You barely finished putting the small communicator to your ear when the hail of bullets came in their direction. Steve grabbed your arm to pull you behind his shield until he managed to hide behind two large containers. The fight was immediate.

The group of agents split up and you jumped right in front of two of them, sliding on the ground to use the baton from below to disarm them. You knocked one of them out with the high volts of the baton and the other tried to stab you from behind, but you stopped his hand midway and flipped his arm over, a shriek of pain escaping him as his shoulder dislocated. The man fell to his knees and, lifting one leg, you half-turned to strike his face with your full tibia.

“Cap, I found the bad guys you were talking about,” you heard Sam's voice, noting that, although that communicator was working, the voice you perceived sounded distant.

“Are you okay?” you heard Steve, as he came closer and you stepped on the handle of the staff, lifting it in a single stroke so that it landed in your hand.

“Not dead yet.”

Steve nodded, though he knew Sam couldn't see him and gave you a questioning look.

“Works?” he pointed to your ear, starting to pace.

“A little bruised, but does the job.”

Your friend shook his head, starting to run inside the helicarrier.

“Cap?” you smirked.

“Don't start,” the blond spoke through his teeth, moving toward his target. “Report location.”

You nodded in his direction, heading for the first agents who appeared to obstruct his path, clearing Steve's way in the direction of the helicarrier hub.

When you were done with the agents and Steve was finally able to enter the control center, you turned your attention to the voices ringing through the communicator.

“Ah, shit,” was Sam's voice, and the next thing you heard was gunfire around the helicarrier next to it.

“Fine, but you're going with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight,” Steve had said a few hours before they left the dam, leaving no room for argument in his haughty voice.

“That's unnecessary, Steve. We'd waste too much time,” you shook your head, trying to match his stoic, stern expression.

“She's right,” Maria nodded in your direction. “There are three helicarriers and three of you.”

“No,” Steve began to rise, your eyes following the movement of his body and his blue eyes fixed on yours. “Fury delegated orders to me, and that's an order.”

You indulged Steve until you lost sight of him, understanding he had said that out of pent-up fear. You grabbed one of the weapons that had been left on the ground and passed the strap over your head. The third helicarrier was a considerable distance away at a jump. You had to pick up too much speed to even make it to the tip, but you weren't going to stand there waiting for Steve when you could be doing something more; something necessary.

So that's what you did. Steve still hadn't reported state when you started running from tip to tip, your steps getting bigger with every second until you reached the gap and picked up momentum at the tip. That was insane. You felt the emptiness in your stomach again and out of the corner of your eye you could see a couple of explosions occurring in the harbor where the helicarriers had departed from. You stretched your arms out, counting on having propelled your body far enough, fearing a deadly fall as the other edge began to look higher and higher.

“Y/N, status,” you heard Hill, your heart in your mouth.

Your mind went blank for a second, when in the midst of the adrenaline you almost didn't even feel the moment when your left hand gripped the edge of the helicarrier tightly, the aircraft moving a little farther with each passing second. You had jumped at just the right moment.

Breathing hard, you propelled yourself upward until you could plant your feet back on the runway floor and replied to Maria, “Waiting.”

Steve must've thought you were still on the helicarrier with him.

As you ran, Sam reported that he had intercepted the second helicarrier after Steve, barely recognizing their voices amidst the tussle you were having with the agents who had appeared before you could reach the control room door.

“Y/N, where are you?” the voice of Steve came over the comm, a few minutes after you took down the last agent, moving in the direction of the metal door. You felt heavily for the programming card you had taken from Steve when he had pulled you close to get behind his shield, as you heard him ask Sam if he could see you.

You were about to reach the door when the scenery abruptly changed, a body appearing out of nowhere colliding into your left side sending you crashing to the ground hard.

“Shit.”

“Y/N?”

You ignored Steve's voice, moving to push off the heavy body on top of yours. Amidst the struggle you crawled away across the floor, a hand clutching at your ankle before you could move any further.

You recognized him by the coldness that ran through your body at the contact. You could almost be sure it had burned you.

This time he wasn't wearing the mask, those blue eyes boring deep into your head, the angry expression very different from how you had seen him last time. Although you would've liked to stay longer just watching, after spending so many years suffering his death, you pulled the leg he had held captive and tried to hit him in the face, his metal arm moving faster neutralizing the hit.

At that moment you stood up arching your back, planting your feet hard and running towards the soldier before he could catch you off guard.

You tried to strike his face, but he nimbly dodged every blow, just as you dodged his. He let out a grunt of frustration as you sent him to the ground with a kick to the chest, pulling a weapon from his side that he didn't hesitate a second to point in your direction. Feeling the air caught in your throat, you moved quickly on the ground, trying to escape his bullets while managing to find a place to hide.

You heard his footsteps approaching, as you hid behind a container, stopping just on the other side, and you moved to the right side of the container when you knew he was going to jump out and surprise you from above.

His body froze for a second, which you took advantage of to jump over the dumpster and grab him from behind, the baton you had on your belt wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breathing. You tried to hold him tight as he tried to push away your grip with his metal arm, almost as strong as your push to keep him in place.

The soldier began to slow his movements, but if you hadn't been so torn between he's the Winter Soldier and he's Bucky, you would've noticed one of his hands move over his vest, grabbing the handle of a knife and burying it in your right leg hard, all the way in, causing you to gasp.

Clearly your grip wobbled, the soldier taking possession of your staff and turning around as he pulled the blade out of your leg to direct his foot towards your chest, pushing you back to the ground where you fell with a loud thud.

The wound was deep. You could feel and hear the blood pouring out of it, but you didn't just stand there as you saw him leap down from the container, raising his arms to parry his attack as he directed the knife towards your face. His face contorted and scrunched up in concentration was all you could focus on, remembering that you couldn't let him win, but you also couldn't hurt him like he wanted to hurt you. You had to be objective, yes, but the thought of hurting him once more was heartbreaking.

You struggled with his hand until he let go of the knife, using your strength and trying to ignore the sharp pain in your leg from the effort to push him to the ground beside you with your hand on his neck and your leg around his waist, lying on top of him with one leg on each side.

At that moment, as you tried to keep your arm over his neck and he tried to weaken you by hitting your sides, you heard Steve and Sam's voices again. A small panic ran through your body which was enough for the soldier to push your arm away, grabbing you by the neck with his metal arm and bringing a gun close to your face as he rose up, taking you with him, until he slammed you into a wall with great force.

You raised your hand between your bodies to move the tip of the gun, the shot falling a short distance above your head, your exorbitant eyes watching his furious expression. His metal hand closed tighter and tighter around your neck, your breath hitching, but you didn't relinquish your grip on the hand still holding the gun.

In the midst of the struggle, you brought your knee up to strike his crotch. The soldier jerked away, a whimper dying in his mouth as you moved toward him again, pushing his arm away as he pointed the gun at you again and the shot landed somewhere behind you again.

You hit him in the face with your own head, one of your hands holding his right arm with the gun and the other trying to keep his metal arm that held the knife dripping with your blood at bay. You hit him full in the nose again, but even though the blood was starting to drip down, the soldier didn't budge one bit.

“Go!” you shouted to Steve and Sam, the soldier averting his attention for a tiny moment before struggling against your grip again.

You had to break free somehow to get the card to Steve. Your body began to give way with the soldier's thrust, your boots sliding on the floor like it was marble. The soldier began to close his arms and you tried to match his strength, but the blood leaking from the wound in your leg was slowly weakening you. And it was a vibranium knife again.

Suddenly you noticed Steve running towards you, the fleeting glance costing you restraint, as the soldier raised your arms and turned you roughly, his back crashing against your chest and his metal hand burying in your chest the knife hard, moving it from side to side as he did that cold night in Siberia.

In the midst of the pain and weakness from the blood loss, you laid your head on his shoulder, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body.

“Bucky,” you whispered like a prayer, your strangled voice barely making its way out of your mouth and the soldier tensing behind you. The struggling stopped for a second.

Then his body heat disappeared. Steve must've reached and tackled the soldier without missing a beat.

“Hey, hey,” you heard Sam approaching you, kneeling beside you and taking your hand that wanted to pull the knife out of your chest. Right through the center, near the heart. That pain was no match for the disappointment that was tearing you apart inside. Maybe that time you could actually die. “Don't touch that.”

“Give the card to Steve…” you barely muttered breathlessly, one of your hands moving to pull the card out of one of your lower pants pockets. “Run.”

Sam hesitated for a few seconds, looking between your knife and the fight that was still picking up steam in the background, until he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Don't take that knife out!”

You saw him run in the direction of Steve and the soldier, his metal wings rising in the midst of the struggle. Steve and Sam began to get the upper hand, and at some point, Steve took off in the direction of the helicarrier control center.

You dropped to the ground, watching helplessly as the soldier overpowered Sam, dislodging his wings with the force of his metal arm. The pain was too much, but Sam was completely helpless. No matter how much training he might've had, fighting the Winter Soldier was disproportionate.

So in a matter of seconds you stood up, grasping between gasps the handle of the knife and pulling it out of your chest without a second thought.

The electric current of pain that coursed through your body was unbearable, feeling as if the hollowness you constantly felt in your chest from emotions had suddenly materialized, a constant pang that coursed through you from head to toe at every microsecond, with every movement. Sam didn't even have time to react when you grabbed the soldier by the throat, burying the knife in his leg and trying to wave him off.

You could consider yourself well served if at that moment that was your death.

The soldier grabbed the arm around your neck and leaned forward, lifting you up and flipping you over onto your back, falling hard and painfully to the ground. You looked at the knife in his leg before looking at his face again. He had a couple of cuts, his expression still angry, but he seemed to hesitate as he pulled the knife out like it was nothing and watched you lying on the ground, completely at his mercy.

His hesitation brought unease to your chest.

“Bucky,” you called again, tears welling in your eyes.

The soldier only frowned, his anger momentarily fading until he seemed to remember something.

He turned to look at the control center. Before running off, he sent you another disgruntled look, just like that time on the road.

Whatever had happened after that, death or not, was extremely painful.

-

tag: @samodivaa @rubyxx16

#and yeah i wrote a whole fic just to put that exact scene at the begining #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine

[buckybarnesisdaddy]

All is Well

Masterlist

Healing takes place in many different ways. Some people need constant reassurance; some need discipline because they’ve never had any, and some desperately desire to be loved; that’s where Daisy, Precious, and Dutchess come in as they teach their men that everyone has hang-ups, and that's okay.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N- This was a fun one and there will be more parts! This stemmed from a joke between me and @theinheriteddutchess about Basement Wives (Husbands) and it grew from there. @rainydayandmondays joined in and now we’ve got ourselves a little story! Please read ALL warnings before each chapter. You are responsible for the content you consume. Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Picture collage by yours truly.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #jefferson ouat #endings beginnings #winter soldier #ransom drysdale #jake jensen #frank adler #hydra cap #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #jefferson x reader #frank x reader #winter soldier x reader #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #ransom drysdale smut #jake jensen smut #winter soldier smut #fem reader #basement #daddy

[buckyalpine]

Okay , onto my Frank request then! Being Frank’s friend and he’s all over the place but he’s attentive when it comes to you . He makes sure you’re okay and looks out for you . One night , he’s driving you to your place . He pulls you close in the front seat , cuddling his side while he’s holding a cigarette and driving with the other hand. When he stops at a red light , he turns to you to tell you how beautiful you are . One thing leading to another , you’re making out and when you reach your house , he’s picking you up by the back of your thighs and carries you inside . He makes you scream that night and then you fall asleep on his chest . But when you wake up , you’re in an empty bed . You’re so upset , thinking Frank treated you like any other girl he takes home for the night . You’re crying and you don’t hear the door opening or a worried Frank rushing to your side after picking up breakfast

18+ minors dni 

Oh this sexy menace? Fuck yes.

Frank x f reader

"I don't ca-

"It's y/n"

Franks eyes grew wide, grabbing the phone from his friend to answer his call; he usually lets it go to voicemail but never with you.

"Hey peanut, you okay?"

"Mhm, m'fine" You slur out and he's on his feet making his way to his car. You said you were having a girls night and at least it sounded like you enjoyed yourself.

"Where are you right now"

He comes and grabs you, smirking when you stumble out of the club, right into his arms. He carries you to his car and buckles you in, you have a goofy grin plastered on your face and he's definitely taking a few pictures to tease you with for later.

Once he reaches your place, he has you in his arms again, chuckling at the way you cling onto him while he carries you to your room. He carefully removes your lashes and does his best to take off your makeup. He slips you into one of his shirt's you've stolen, tucking you into bed before crashing on the couch just in case you get sick in the middle of the night.

He knows he can be a bit of a mess but not when it comes to you, not his favorite little peanut. 

*****

“I told you it was good” You sass, while Frank shakes his head, taking another drag of his cigarette, driving you home. “Just admit it” 

“Fine, it was okay” 

“It was more than okay!” You poke his arm, the both of you coming back from a movie you had insisted on going to. If anyone else had told him to go, it would have been a hard no, but for you? He was at your door within minutes. That didn’t mean he wanted to admit it was actually a good movie. 

You continue rambling on about the movie, which makes him smile. Everything about you makes him smile. Your voice. Your smile. The way your nose crinkles when you laugh. He takes another long drag of his cigarette, he can’t stop the way his mind is racing; you’re so beautiful and sweet. You’ve been the most consistent person in his life, you’ve been there for him in more ways than he can count. You’re stopped at a red light and he can’t even stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“You’re gorgeous” 

You roll your eyes, you were not new to Frank’s flirting, this was nothing new. 

“Y/n” 

Hm. He never used your name. You gasp, feeling his arm pull you closer to him, making him look at you. “You’re so beautiful...”

Your face is near his, you can feel your skin heating up with each passing second. He leans in slightly and before you can stop yourself, your lips smash onto his. His tongue slips past your lips, his fingers tugging your hair gently, as if something he had contained for ages was finally releasing. 

You moan, feeling his lips trail down to your neck, whining in protest when he has to reluctantly pull away after the light changes. There's only a few more blocks till you get to your place, but you’re more desperate than ever. 

As soon as he pulls up to your drive way, he’s ran around to the passenger seat before you can even unbuckle yourself. He easily lifts you to wrap around his waist, your thighs hugging onto him tightly and his lips are on you again, heading straight to your room. 

*****

“Y/n, give it to me baby, just one more sweet heart, c’mon” 

Sweat is beading at his forehead, his cock fucking in and out of you, he wants to cum so badly but not until you cum one more time for him. His hands are toying with your clit the other holding your waist while he gazes down at you. His lips are brushing against yours while he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot each time. 

He’s already made you cum twice (the benefit of being friends, you’ve told him what you like and he definitely paid attention during that conversation). The sheets are damp, your mixed arousal dripping out of you, making a mess everywhere. Its sloppy and desperate, pent up tension between you both reaching an all time high. 

“F-FR-ANK” you cry out, clenching and squeezing around his cock, your orgasm right on edge. Tears are prickling your eyes, pleasure is surging through your body, because of him. Your walls and fluttering and you can feel his cock throb. 

“Cum with me baby, milk my cock, you feel so good baby-fuck-can’t hold it” 

“I-fuck-I’m CUMMING” You cling onto him, your pussy making it impossible for him to hold off any longer, he can feel your slick gush out of you and he’s only going to fill you back up. 

“Gonna cum so hard for you y/n, FUCK” You can feel his warmth fill you up, his pace unrelenting trying fuck you through your high. 

You can barely move afterwards, hardly able to feel the warm wash cloth between your legs. You feel his arms wrap around you to pull you into him; he places your head onto his chest. He’s cradling your head, gently stroking your hair while you fall asleep, you’ve never felt so complete. 

****

The bedside his empty.

His clothes are gone.

You don’t see his wallet anywhere. 

He left.

You should have known. You were no different. You knew exactly who he was last night, he’d shown you who he was time and time again. Why did you believe you were any different.

Maybe because you actually loved him.

You thought he maybe felt the same.

Guess not. 

You curled into a ball, tears streaking your face as you cried, your face buried in your knees. You didn’t even hear the door open, crying harder when you thought about all the times you wished he was yours. 

"Peanut? Hey, hey baby" He rushes over to your side, immediately pulling you into his lap. His heart is beating out of his chest, he’s hardly ever seen you cry, mostly because he’s always there to stop the tears before they even start. 

"Baby what’s wrong"

"I-” You stop yourself from speaking, your skin heating up while he brushes your hair away from your face waiting for you to answer. You feel can’t bring yourself to tell him why your upset, not wanting him to think you’re clingy, especially if there's nothing more here. He looks terrified, wondering if he hurt you or if you felt pressured into doing something you didn’t want in the first place, he’d never live with himself if he hurt you. 

"Baby? Did I do something wro-

"No!" You bite your lip, worried about telling him more. "I-I thought you left" You whisper, looking down at your lap, refusing to look at him. 

"No sweet heart, I just went to grab us something to eat, thought you'd like those waffles from the diner"  He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, pulling you to lay on his chest, just like he did the night before. "Why would I leave you"

You shrug, not wanting to tell him you thought he saw you like every other girl he takes home, fearing that really was how he saw you.

"I'd never leave you peanut"

You snuggle into his chest, still feeling unsure. He wraps his arms around you, his lips brushing your forehead. He’s thought about this moment 100 times over, and nothing compares to how perfect you feel, sitting against him. 

“You promise?” You whisper, smiling softly when he tips your chin to look up at you. 

“Baby, if you haven’t pieced it together already-

He hesitates. He might had said this haphazardly in the past before but this is real. He means it. He doesn’t want to screw this up.

“I love you” 

You blink up at him, gasping when he comes down to kiss you, the sweetest softest kiss anyone's ever given you. He stays with you the whole day. Many days. and nights. and you’re always safe. you’re always loved. in his arms. 

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth   @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen   @ashenc-blog   @buckybarnessimpp  @potatothots @goldylions   @high-functioning-lokipath  @morganemorganite-blog @peaches1958 @kingfleury @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82   @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @samfreakingwinchester @xnorthstar3x

#endings beginnings #endings beginnings frank #endings beginnings frank x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine #frank x reader #bucky barnes au #smut #sebastian stan au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes smut au #fluff #angst #frank bucky #sebastian stan frank

[blu-3-ey-3-s]

It’s SO clear he’s an excellent kisser, my heart is pounding 😩

#endings beginnings #sebastian stan news #Sebastian stan #sebastian stan #sebstan #sebstanedit #seb stan x reader #kisses #good kisser #love #movie #sebastian stan x plus size reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes

[sebastiansluts]

Could you pls write about pregnant!reader getting gangbanged by the people of your choice? Also I really really appreciate your blog, thank you ♥️

You're welcome! I'm so glad you do ❤️

Bucky Barnes x Reader x Frank (Endings, Beginnings) x Chris (Destroyer) x Nick Fowler x Lee Bodecker

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON'T LIKE, DON'T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

"Alright baby, you lay there, good girl." Bucky was standing by your pussy, directing everyone to their places. Frank and Chris were opposite each other, kneeling by your arms, Nick by your head, Lee next to Bucky. You were on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off to accommodate your pregnant belly. Lee picked up one leg, holding your thigh wide as Bucky did the same with the other, the two holding you onto the bed.

You lifted your hands, grasping Frank's and Chris' dicks, pumping them lightly as Lee pressed into your pussy, Bucky's metal hand circling your clit, making you gasp and Nick pushed into your mouth, stifling your cry.

You gripped Frank and Chris tighter, jacking them faster as Nick choked you with his dick, fucking your throat. Lee was grinding his hips into yours, hands on your stomach as Bucky slid two metal fingers in beside Lee's dick, stretching you out. Tears fell from your eyes as Nick made you gag, your hands reflexively squeezing Frank and Chris, making them groan.

"Fuck peach, not gonna last if you keep doing that," Chris said as you twisted your wrist, squeezing again as Bucky pushed a third finger in your pussy.

You exhaled roughly around Nick's cock, still in your mouth. "Come on Barnes, some time today would be great," Nick said sarcastically, thrusting hard, balls slapping your face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it," Bucky muttered, lining up as Lee pulled halfway out. He shifted over and Bucky pressed forwards, head of his dick slipping into your cunt, your legs jerking in their holds.

Nick pulled out of your mouth briefly, letting you gasp for air as you Bucky and Lee both pushed forwards, their dicks sliding against each other as you stretched around them.

"Darlin', shit, come on, relax," Lee grunted, trying to thrust opposite Bucky so you weren't quite so stuffed.

"Ease up baby, you got it," Frank murmured, reaching down and tweaking your nipple. You jolted, voice high and breathy as you cried out. Nick tapped his dick against your lips and you opened your mouth again, letting him slide back in.

The sounds of skin slapping, grunts, and moans were loud in the room, the guys running their mouths. You were clenching hard, nearly pulsing on Bucky and Lee, Nick bruising your throat as you jacked off Frank and Chris, alternating with rolling their balls in your hands.

"Jesus doll, this cunt is always something but, fuck right now..." Bucky trailed off.

"It's perfect," Lee groaned, eyes closing as he came, deep inside your pussy. You moaned at the feeling of him pulling out, Bucky still thrusting and pushing Lee's cum back into you with his dick.

"Up," Nick said, tilting your head and nudging your chin up until he could get his cock down your throat, where he stayed as he came. You couldn't breathe, your hands tight on Frank and Chris, their hips pumping back and forth, their dicks sliding through your hands. You were so close, on the edge, but you needed more.

"Fuck angel," Frank grunted, as he spilled over your hand, dripping down your wrist. Nick pulled out of your mouth, letting you gasp, but Frank brought your cum-covered hand to your lips, forcing you to suck your fingers clean. Chris swore as he watched you, hips moving faster until he came, then he stilled, shooting over your swollen tits and stomach.

You turned your focus to Bucky, still between your legs, thrusting leisurely. "I'm sorry doll, did you want something?" he grinned, turning into a smirk as he rolled his hips and you moaned, instead of answering. "Didn't quite catch that one," he laughed, speeding up his thrusts then slowing.

"Bucky! Please!" you cried, tears falling again, desperate to come but needing him to fuck you. He relented, bringing his metal fingers to your clit, rubbing and pinching it until you were screaming your release, squeezing around Bucky and triggering his orgasm. He pushed his hips as deep into you as he could, grinding his cum into you.

When Bucky pulled out, he let your legs fall down gently, to the floor. All the boys helped move you to the middle of the bed, resting between Nick and Chris, Frank and Lee at your feet, massaging them while Bucky went and got a washcloth, wiping you clean.

#bucky barnes #endings beginnings frank #destroyer chris #nick fowler #lee bodecker #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #frank endings beginnings #destroyer chris x reader #destroyer chris x you #destroyer chris x y/n #nick fowler smut #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x you #nick fowler x y/n #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #smut #no y/n #reader insert

[georgiapeach30513]

The End As It Begins Masterlist COMING SOON

You are cordially invited to this season’s marriage market. Becoming the rare and sweet Rose of the Ball. Just the perfect and chaste eligible bachelorette. Bring your dance card, and search for the perfect match. Will it be the General Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers the Duke of Lavenham, Lord Dean Winchester, or Prince Charles Brandon. You have caught all their eyes. But be careful, they’re not the only ones watching. Lady Rose Waterton is also watching and reporting on the gossip of the evening. Make sure you have your chaperone…

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#the end as it begins #Charles Brandon x resder #Charles Brandon #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester

[buckets-and-trees]

Bucky and the Bench

Title: Bucky and the Bench Fandom: MCU Pairing: eventual Bucky x female!Reader

Word Count: 802 Summary: It’s not enemies to lovers, but it definitely doesn’t start out well. Warnings: Slow burn Additional Notes: Well, here’s my first post here… This will not strictly be a WIP, but it is a series of drabbles with a plan, if you will. Or if you won’t. I still will be drabbling…

“You’re on my bench.”

You look up, so shocked at this stranger’s audacity that you couldn’t hide the look of harsh scrutiny on your face. “I – this is a public park.”

He nods. “And you’re sitting on my bench.”

Your scrutiny turns to a glare. “You can’t have a bench at a public park.”

“Fine, it’s my favorite bench in the park. It has the best view.”

Your face softens slightly. “You’re not wrong.” Two things are working to disarm you. You don’t glare often, but when provoked, whoever receives it usually backs down immediately, and the fact that he hasn’t is intriguing. But he’s probably not because he’s likely never had to back down from anything in his life, the imposing hulk of a man that he is, well over six feet, built frame, and a piercing blue stare. He’s more than the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Can I?” he gestures to the right side of the bench.

You weren’t sitting in the middle of the bench, already slightly favoring the left side, so you shrug and scoot to the other end of the bench, moving your things along with you. He sits without another word. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pull a book out of an inner pocket of his jacket, and he becomes immediately engrossed.

It’s only after another few moments that you realize the look out of the corner of your eye had turned into a full-on study of the man at the other end of the bench, and then you quickly move to rummage in your bag. You weren’t staring at him.

Except you had been, because how could he really have had the audacity to disturb you about, and then insist on sitting on, this bench? There were plenty of good benches here, and he could have sat at any one of them. And then he just sat there, reading To Kill a Mockingbird as if nothing had happened to get his handsome frame in that spot. And this may be his favorite bench (it was yours, too), but that was one of your favorite books, and you couldn’t tell if you were annoyed that he had it in his hands, or if you were curious. It was a classic, to be sure, but had he read it before? What did he think?

You glance up from your bag to look at him again. He was still reading with rapt attention.

Back in your bag, you settle on just pulling a mint out of a small tin, then settle back to reading your own book. For your lunch break today, you’d opted for a fluffy new romance recommendation alongside your sandwich. You aren’t embarrassed to be reading a fluffy, trendy romance book, but you did hope the stranger hadn’t noticed how vibrantly pink the cover is. You move the book to rest in your lap, pressing the pages open across your legs, effectively hiding the cover from any eyes that may judge.

Once you are back into your book, you only have eyes for the pages until your phone’s alarm blares, which is only a moment of interruption to you, but causes the man at the other end of the bench to jerk violently, nearly drop his book, and glare at you angrily when he realizes it is only your phone.

You give him a half-apologetic grimace as you slip your book and your phone into your bag before slipping it over your shoulder. He settles back into the bench, but this time hunching over his book, elbows resting on his knees, clearly attempting to block out all his surroundings, including you.

You stand and walk away. As you begin your journey back to work, you can’t help thinking how awful a meet cute that was, if your life was a romance novel or rom-com film. Maybe it could be worked into an enemies-to-lovers plot, but even that was a stretch.

Those brooding blue eyes though…

You laugh to yourself, exiting the park and truly getting back to normal life.

Normal, standard life, void of meet cutes, but a life you are generally content with, no need to worry about the man with the impossibly blue eyes or his strong jawline.

Because, honestly, what kind of man was so particular about a public park bench anyway?

So strange.

You don’t go back to the park and the bench the next day, but the day after that you do go and reclaim your bench. You’d been to that park and sat at that bench during your lunch many times – not every day, but two or three times a week, and you’d never seen him there before, and you don’t see him there again.

next part

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky is a brooder sometimes #bucky doesn't play nice with strangers okay #he's a grumpy grandpa #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x yn #don't worry i'm not terrified to post my first writing here on tumblr #and also have that writing be totally not a major hook #but the muses said this is how this journey begins #book loving bucky #the brooklyn boys #aspen wrote something #female reader

[kilikina34512]

Ten Days

My first ever writing challenge! This was hard for me to write at moments. Celiac Disease is something I live with and while I didn't suffer the same rejection that the reader of the story does, I've heard stories of others who have. It also puts words to some of the fears I have, so it was hard but nice to write. I hope you all see the "new beginning" that I felt in the end.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: Following a new diagnosis, you avoid Bucky and the rest of the Avengers in fear that they won't accept how your life has to change because of it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, soft!Bucky, moment of self-hate, discussion of Celiac Disease (symptoms and such), mentions of medical treatments, rejection, anxiety/fear, tell me if I missed something.

Word Count: 3,298

Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

Ten days.

You had avoided Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers for that matter, for ten days.  Avoiding them was a job in and of itself considering you worked in one of the offices on the lower floors of Stark Tower.  There had been a lot of keeping your phone off so you couldn't be tempted to answer calls or texts.  You'd made the hours you left the office for lunch and to go home irregular so they wouldn't know when you leaving and weren't.  This task had been helped by your assistant who fortunately had a shinier backbone than you because not even Natasha could intimidate her into letting the former assassin into your office.  

You were seriously going to talk to people in HR about her getting a really good bonus at the end of the year.

From making yourself seem not at home to avoiding areas and places you frequented, it was easy to see that you were going above and beyond to not run into your boyfriend or any of his friends.  Mostly your boyfriend, if you were being completely honest with yourself.  But hey, avoiding two realities that were hard to face was a lot of work.

You didn't want to face the fact that you'd lied to Bucky, for the first time, about a very serious topic.  And you weren't ready to possibly face even more ridicule and disappointment.  That's why, eleven days ago, you'd lied and told Bucky that your doctor's appointment had gone fine and you were actually perfectly healthy.  

Which was the lie you'd been avoiding dealing with.

You'd actually left your gastroenterologist with the diagnosis of Celiac Disease, an autoimmune disorder that causes your intestines to react to gluten, a protein often found in wheat, rye, or barley, but seems to be in to just about any and everything these days as well.  The problem with the disorder is that over time, your the reaction had caused damage to your small intestines, which led to malnutrition, aches in your joints, fatigue, constipation, bloating, stomach pain, and sometimes nausea.

What had hit you possibly the hardest was the knowledge that there was no cure for this disease.  Instead, you had to completely change your way of eating.  All pizzas, pastries, and doughs were out of the question.  No more beers with the group.  Buns and breaded foods were untouchable.  Research had also taught you that prepackaged foods or frozen meals were a no go as well unless it explicitly said "gluten free" on the packaging somewhere.

You loved food and that had been a hard blow to handle, but it only got worse from your perspective as the doctor continued to explain that the damage to your intestines had caused them to become inflamed.  Due to the fact it would take at least six months for your body to start healing, he didn't want to put you on an oral anti-inflammatory.  Nope, instead, you were going vegan too.  All meats and animal products were just as against the rules as gluten.

You'd went home after that and cleaned out your fridge and cabinets, but looking at the that it left you with only a few veggies, ketchup and mustard, and a box of KIND bars that were conveniently already gluten free and vegan, you were lost on what you could eat now.  

You decided to do what would become a huge regret and the basis for why you'd lied to Bucky.  You called your mom.

Your mom had always been there for you in her own way, you didn't think this would be any different.  You thought she'd be a support for you, help guide you through what exactly to do.  But that wasn't exactly how that went down.  You can still hear your mother's voice in your head.  "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this, sweetie," she'd said with all the pity in the world for your plight.

"Thanks, Mom."  You sighed before continuing on with the other purpose behind calling and telling her about your diagnosis.  "I was hoping you could help me figure out what to do about this since it affects all of us."

The long silence, even through a phone, had been stifling before she almost innocently asked, "What do you mean it affects all of us?"

"It affects us all when we sit down to have a meal together or celebrate a holiday or birthday.  A whole new menu will have to be created and I can't imagine how much harder it will be to cook in this new style."  This statement just made you feel so guilty.  You loathed having to be the reason for such a big change in how you spent time with your loved ones, it left a weight on your shoulders that you hadn't had before.

"Can't you just, oh I don't know dear, pick the veggies out of things we already make?  You know your sister's birthday is next month and she always wants me to make my quiche.  Surely, you can just pick it apart."

You weren't sure if your mother's words made you want to scream or sob in frustration, but the weight of guilt became even heavier.  Your family was all about traditions, even down to the meals made for your birthdays each year.  You always had the same thing, each individual's favorite food and cake.  Now, thanks to your new diagnosis, you were throwing a wrench into that.

You sighed sadly, "No, Mom, that's not how it works.  Especially not for that meal.  Quiche is purely animal products thanks to the ham, eggs, cheese, and milk in it.  Not to mention, the crust is pure gluten thanks to the wheat.  I can't pick the vegetables out of it because they'll still have bits of egg and such on them and I could still be ingesting gluten thanks to cross-contamination.  I have to be extremely careful about food now."

Now, it was your mom's turn to sigh, except hers sounded like frustration.  "Well, maybe you should just eat before you come because I'm not forcing your sister to eat something she doesn't like on her birthday just because you can't."

The statement would've sent you to the floor if you hadn't been sitting down already.  You quickly made an excuse and rushed off the phone, placing it beside you on your sofa as you sat there wondering how to feel about this.  

Your heart felt so heavy with devastation.  Was it really so much to ask that your mom, your family, support you in what was better for your health?  It's not like you were doing this to join in on the craze it had been once.  This was your doctor's orders for your medical condition.  If you disregarded the orders, you'd continue to do more damage to your intestines.  That route led to destroying parts of your intestinal tract, surgeries, maybe even a colostomy bag.  What was so wrong with wanting them to work with your limitations?  

Guilt overtook the devastation.  Did your mom have a point?  None of them had to eat that way, they didn't have the diagnosis.  You did.  You really thought over your mother's last question.  Could you just eat before you go over?  If you did that though, it meant sitting around the table while everyone else ate food that you loved, food you knew was delicious and reminded you of home, food that was some of your favorites, right in front of you while you sat there left out completely.  It would be the biggest tease, like dangling a bone in front of a dog and never giving it to them in the end.  It felt cruel that your mother would want you to feel that, feel like you were missing out.  

Maybe, once you'd fully accepted this new lifestyle and way of eating, you could be okay with sitting around foods that you used to be able to eat without it bothering you.  But this diagnosis was brand new and there was no way you'd be able to accept it yet.  Tears at the idea of sitting through dinner without getting to enjoy food, snacks, and birthday cake with the rest of your family were already spilling down your cheeks.  

A new self-hatred began to brew.  Your body was too broken.  You could never enjoy "normal" food again.  You were doomed to be left out for good.

Sadly, ten days later, that feeling had only continued as you learned the difficulty that finding gluten free and vegan foods had become.  As a result, you'd resorted to cooking lots of vegetables every day so you'd have lunches and dinners and using your KIND bars for breakfast.  Don't even get started on coffee either.  God, how you missed having creamer in your coffee...

Your longing for creamer was what you'd been thinking about as you entered your apartment, only to freeze in your tracks at the brunette that stood in front of you.  The brunette that obviously had broken into your apartment if you really wanted to get technical.

"What are you doing here," you asked after you came out of the surprise of seeing him in your living room.

"I need to know," Bucky said, his eyes downcast.  Your big, burly Avenger wasn't able to look at you and his next words just created a fissure in your heart.  "Have I scared you in some way?  Is dating the Winter Soldier finally catching up to you?  I understand if you feel like you need to protect yourself."

You whispered, "No, that's not it at all.  I've never been scared of you."

"Then what is it?  Did I do something?  I thought things with us were okay, I don't understand why you don't want to be with me anymore.  I never stopped loving you."

"I love you too, Bucky.  I never stopped."

Bucky looked up at you, and not only did tears form in your eyes, but they silently slid down your cheeks, creating silver tracks down your face that matched the silver lining his own eyes.  "Then what did I do," he whispered dejectedly.  "Why do you want nothing to do with me?"

That guilt you'd been feeling the past eleven days suddenly increased tenfold and the weight of it was nearly enough to send you to your knees.  This wasn't what you'd wanted, but you knew what was coming.  You knew you'd have to be honest and you'd have to face what you'd been avoiding.  At least Bucky knew the end of your relationship was coming, just not for the reasons he expected.

Your heart was already beginning to crack more and more as the realization dawned on you.  You couldn't put this off anymore.  This man you loved was going to walk away from you.  Reject you and what your life would need to be.  Knowing you couldn't prevent this any longer, instead of dragging it out, you just ripped off the band aid.  Best to get all the hurt over with immediately.

"You didn't do anything Buck, I lied to you."  You made your way to your sofa and collapsed onto it as you explained your diagnosis, the symptoms, the fact that it was incurable, and the treatment for it and the steps to healing.  Bucky had asked questions throughout your explanation of your situation and you'd explained all you knew from the doctor's information and your own research about the disorder.  When you'd finished explaining to him, he sat there silently for a moment, absorbing all you'd told him before he looked at you as if you'd lost every brain cell in your head.

"That's why you've been avoiding everyone," he asked incredulously.  "Avoiding me?  Because your diet is different now?"

You furrowed your brows at the question.  "Well, yes.  That's kind of why."  Why did he sound like he thought you were being stupid?  

He scoffed.  "That makes no sense."  Your eyes widened in surprise before heat rose up your neck and into your face.  Indignation had you shooting to your feet, in turn surprising your super soldier, before you paced in front of the sofa.  

"It makes complete sense," you admonished.  "This affects everything from now on!  No more late nights with pizza or Thai take out.  I can't join the gang for a drink at the bar when the superheroes decide they want to have a party night.  We can't go to just any ol' restaurant for a date anymore.  Everything I eat now is homemade because I'm not sure where it's safe to eat at in this city!  And I'm sorry, I can't sit around you or your friends and be okay with watching everyone else eat food that I love and enjoyed once upon a time while I'm stuck there with nothing to eat.  I'm not a good enough person to be able to do that."

He blinked as he took in what you said.  "I wouldn't ask that of you, doll," he breathed as he rose from the sofa and caught your arm, effectively ending your pacing and forcing you to stand in front of him.  Cold, metal fingers gently pushed your chin up until you were looking at him before he continued.  "I can see how this affects everything, but it doesn't change that I want to support you through it.  You might have to help me, but I'm willing to learn whatever I need to so that you don't get sick again.  

"I'm not the only one either," he continued as water filled your eyes at his comforting words.  "Every Avenger loves you.  Steve beams whenever he gets to show you his art.  Sam seeks you out because you laugh harder at his jokes than anyone else.  Nat loves having a female friend that accepts her.  Bruce is comfortable enough to smile around you, and not awkwardly, I might add, and you're basically the only one who can put Tony in his place and not have him act prideful about it.  Not a single one of them would have a problem with this change."

"But they shouldn't have to," you sobbed, the dam on your emotions breaking.  "You shouldn't have to either."  Your heart filled with warmth despite your head telling you to be cautious.  All you wanted to do was fall into those reassurances, but your own family couldn't even accept this.  Why would anyone who didn't share blood with you care that strongly?

"Who told you that, doll?"

You sniffled as you responded, "My mother."  You explained the conversation you'd had with your mom as you felt Bucky stiffen more with each word until you were sure his body was just as hard as the vibranium of his arm.  He never cared much for your mom, but he knew you loved her and never tried to cause problems for the relationship you had with your family.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them again.  His hands made their way to your cheeks, holding your face with such tenderness that you cried more.  His thumbs continuously wiped the moisture from your face as he lovingly said, "I don't care what anyone else wants, but you.  You are the most important person to me.  You are my future, and if we have a future that lacks gluten or even meats and all that stuff, then I'm fully ready for that.  Let me prove it to you, can I get that chance?"

You hesitated for a moment.  Cross-contamination was a real issue and you were terrified that it could happen if you didn't cook for yourself.  That aside, there wasn't much you could eat to begin with.  The rejection was on the tip of your tongue, but Bucky's sweet, puppy eyed stare showed you how much he wanted to do this for you.  Suddenly, you felt your head nodding in his hands.  He grinned before pulling you into his safe, warm embrace and let you get the rest of your pent up emotions out before he joined you for dinner that night.  That night, he didn't stay over, but instead kissed you on the top of your head before telling you he'd call you the following day and that he'd be planning to invite you over for food soon.

Ten days.

Ten days since you'd explained your condition to Bucky and he'd asked for the chance to show you how accepting he was of your new lifestyle.  Your stomach roiled as your hands shook with nerves.  A large hand enveloped yours as Bucky looked down at you.  "Just trust me," he said with a smile on his face.  You could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes as you rode the elevator in the tower up to the Avengers floors.  You'd tried to ask Bucky questions about what was happening today, but he just kept telling you it was a surprise.

And that was the first word that you heard as the elevator doors parted.  A loud chorus of "Surprise!" rang through the entryway to the first floor of their residence, which was where their kitchen, dining, and lounge area was.  You gasped as you looked at the smiling faces of your friends before Nat pulled you away from Bucky and looped her arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the dining room.  

"If you ever question how much we all care for you," the Widow quietly said, "you'll leave me no choice but to hit you."  Despite the threat, you couldn't help but smile at your friend.  You knew she meant well and that she'd never truly hurt you.  Your feet stopped as you rounded the corner and a loud gasp filled the air once your eyes locked on the dining table.  

It was full of food.

"What is all this," you breathed as Bucky came up behind you and led you to a seat.  Tony was the one who answered though.  "This is dinner.  I had a few calls made, got in touch with a chef that prepared both gluten free and vegan food, by the way, you should try The Herb Garden on Hudson Street.  Anyway, all of it are things you can eat.  Jackfruit BBQ, heart of palm 'lobster' salad, grilled corn, garlic knots, fettuccini alfredo, mushroom risotto, spring rolls, and salad.  Any foods you life, let me or F.R.I.D.A.Y. know and we'll keep it stocked for you to have when you stay over with Manchurian Candidate over there."

You looked over the selections and it all made your mouth water.  It also looked so... normal.  "Wait," you asked as everyone started to grab servings of various options.  "You guys are eating this too?"

Steve, who sat across from you, smiled as he answered, "You might not fight bad guys like us, but that doesn't make you any less one of us.  You're family.  Not a single one of us wants you to feel different."

"Besides," Sam chimed in, "it's just food.  No need to make a big deal out of what's being served as long as it's good."

You looked around the table and saw the nods and smiles of agreement of each and every person there.  Your gaze fell on your boyfriend last, who was grinning lovingly at you before placing a kiss on your forehead.  "They're right," he said just loud enough for you to hear.  "You're family and we take care of our own."

Tears filled your eyes again, but you blinked them away as you enjoyed the warmth that filled your chest.  You loved this team, this man who chose to stay by your side.  As you filled your plate with a bit of everything to try, you couldn't help but hear a small voice in the back of your head that told you maybe this didn't have to be the end of a normal life as you knew it.  Maybe this was just the start of a new normal instead.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #rebel stardust's new beginnings challenge #hurt/comfort #rejection #celiac disease #gluten free #vegan #tw selfhate #kili stories

[buckysswinter]

☽ angst|❁ dark|♡ fluff|✧ smut (18+)

sebastian stan

lee bodecker

right where you left me ☽

all you had to do was stay (pt 2 to right where you left me) ☽ ♡

carter baizen

cruel summer ☽ ✧

the way i loved you (pt 2 to cruel summer) ☽ ✧

frank (!eb)

‘tis the damn season ✧ ☽

last time (pt 2 to ‘tis the damn season) ♡ ✧

nick fowler

never ending story (mini series) ☽

mickey henry

#sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen x you #frank endings beginnings #nick fowler mini series #nick fowler x you #nick fowler fic #nick fowler angst

[notafunkiller]

happy new year

Summary: On New Year's Eve, you gather the courage and you take a bold step, approaching Frank and igniting a spark of connection.

Pairing: writer!endings beginnings frank x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 23, Frank is 42) teasing, dirty talk, pet names, oral séx, protected séx, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I think this will be a series, so I really hope you’ll enjoy it! Also, I want to thank @lavenderhaze967 for supporting me!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re not a coward...  You’ve never been, but as you pat him on the shoulder, you want nothing more than to run away.

What were you thinking? What are you gonna tell him?

You grab the glass from the table and try to turn around quickly, but it’s too late. You see him out of the corner of your eyes how he shifts, and now he’s facing you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You stop with a sigh, and you find yourself checking him out shamelessly.

His hair looks perfectly styled, but in that “I don’t give a fuck” way you always admire. Even when you try or not to care, it still ends up messy. And the whites in his beard make you feel a little weaker. He looks even more handsome up close.

“Well, hello there.” He smiles shyly before bursting into giggles.

You freeze for a little bit, taken aback by his smile and the way it makes his eyes glow.

“Hi.”

“Happy new year,” he says, still smiling, with his hands in his pockets. He looks so casual, yet so attractive. It makes you wonder if it comes with time...

You clear your throat. “Happy new year!”

You don’t like how awkward you sound, it’s embarrassing, so you need help. Without noticing he follows your gaze, you turn your head toward your friends, who’ve been watching you all along. You try to show them with your eyebrows that you need some tips, but the only thing they do is to give you a thumb-up.

Sighing, you look at him again and notice how his cute smile turns into a lob-sided smirk.

“Is that for me, darling?” He nods toward the glasses you’re holding, and you mentally slap yourself as you hand him one.

“Oh, shoot! Yeah!”

He snorts, amused. “Well, thank you very much.”

With a playful wink, he brings the glass to his mouth, taking a huge sip. Your eyes remain locked even as he licks his lips, savoring the aftertaste. The corners of his mouth curl into a charming smile again, and you sigh, feeling your cheeks get hotter, as he acknowledges your gesture with a nod of appreciation.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anything I can help you with? What’s the dare?”

You don’t know how to react for a second. What dare?

“I don’t know what you mean,” you murmur.

“Look, darling, I really don’t mind.” He chuckles, waving around with the hand he’s holding the champagne glass with. “Just tell me what’s the dare, and I can help you.”

Still caught off guard by his assumption, you smile politely. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand... Where did this dare idea come from? There’s no such a thing.” You look at him with a mix of curiosity and gentle insistence, wanting to know what it’s running through his mind. You feel so embarrassed.

“I mean...” He brings his free hand to the back of his head to stroke his hair. “I was young once too, you know? I wasn’t always forty-two, I promise.”

He laughs, but you’re still focused on the casual way he dropped his age. You wouldn’t have guessed he is over forty for sure, but that doesn’t change anything. You still want to kiss him. He, on the other hand, seems to care about it. Gosh, how would he react if he knew you’re just twenty-three?

“You don’t look forty at all.”

That is the only thing you find yourself mumblings, and you sigh as soon as you realize how biased that sounds.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but he keeps smiling, so it must be a good sign, right?

“Well, don’t let my wrinkles or,” he pauses to stroke his beard. “My whites hear that. They might feel left out from the aging party and all.”

You can’t help but giggle, bringing your free hand to cover your cheeks, trying to hide your redness. He is casually bringing up his age, white hair, and wrinkles. Is he trying to send you a message?

“Sorry if that sounded weird. Your wrinkles are a part of...” You stop mid-sentence, not knowing what you’re going to say. You’re so silly. “I just meant… you look great. Um, yeah, sorry again.”

“So you think men in the forties look-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, panicking, but he laughs.

“I was just teasing, darling, don’t worry. Saw you turning to your friends earlier and I assumed you got dared to offer me champagne or something. I mean, why else would a woman like you talk to a fossil like me?”

Your eyes drop to his lips immediately when he chuckles. They’re wet and chapped, and you wonder how they’d feel against yours. His beard is long enough not to itch, so...

“You’re, uh, really hot,” you say bluntly before taking a huge sip from your champagne glass without taking your eyes off his face.

He frowns for a second, probably taken aback by your words, but he doesn’t get to say something as everyone around you starts to count. Almost midnight.

You take the glass from his hand and place it along with yours on the table.

This is it...

When the counting hits three, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes at the same time you get on your tiptoes, and crush your lips against his in a moment of madness. You didn’t want to have time to think twice, because you know you wouldn’t have done it. You never do something crazy like this. You’re never brave enough.

But it’s like you’re kissing a statue. He doesn’t respond at all, keeping his mouth and his arms completely still.

You step back; a mix of shock and embarrassment washing over you. “I’m so sorry,” you blurt out as you feel your cheeks reddening even more. You want to look into his eyes as you apologize… You really do, but you find it too hard. You don’t want to see the rejection or, even worse, the disgust. “I shouldn’t have done that, I am so sorry! I was completely out of line. You obviously didn’t want me, and I just crossed…” You fumble for words, mortified, and you realize it would be better if you just left. So you turn around, not even taking your glass. You just want to run away and cry yourself to sleep. You’ll have to leave this place earlier, since there is no way you could face him ever again. You shouldn’t have even approached him, you ruined his New Year’s Eve. God, you didn’t even ask him if he had someone! You simply assumed he is single because he didn’t have a wedding band, and you didn’t see him with anyone.

You take a few steps into your friends’ direction, crushed, but you feel his hand wrapping around your forearm, stopping you and, at the same time, turning you around.

You wonder if he’s going to scold you as you stare back at him, but he surprises you too when he moves his hand from your forearm to the back of your head, tilting your head enough so he can lean in and kiss you.

You gasp when you feel his lips, and he doesn’t hesitate even for a second to deepen the kiss. You feel his tongue everywhere in your mouth, and you moan, feeling your knees weakening. You don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this, let alone in public. It makes your attempt from earlier look ridiculous. You try to kiss him back with just as much passion, bringing your hands to his neck so you can feel him better. His beard doesn’t tickle your face, and his tongue is amazing.

You’re gonna remember this forever, without a doubt.

He breaks the kiss with a pop when you can’t breathe anymore, letting your foreheads touch gently.

“Now this is, indeed, a happy new year.”

“Thought you didn’t want it... me,” you whisper, still looking at his now red lips. You just want to kiss him again and cover his whole face with lipstick.

“The question is do you really want me like this? I’m an old man with a very messy fuck boy past. You know, I even used to do drugs,” he says seriously, but not moving away. It’s like he’s waiting for you to take the step back, and when you don’t, he continues. “You seem like a good girl, and I assume you’re pretty sober.” He pauses, waiting for you to confirm, so you just nod. “Good! But I don’t want you to make decisions in the heat of the moment. Even if it’s just for a night.”

Even though you understand being a good girl is not an insult, you’re still offended. He basically offers one night, so his past doesn’t matter. Fuck boy... you guess this is also his way of telling you he is single and doesn’t look for something serious. And you appreciate he’s warning you about everything. No man who’s still in that mindset would warn you. He means well, so you grab him by the collar of his shirt. “Do good girls kiss you without even knowing your name?” Your tone takes him by surprise. His eyes widen, and a giggle escapes his mouth.

“Still a good... and younger girl. Too young for me for sure.”

You sigh, getting on your tiptoes again.

“What if this good, younger girl takes you to her room and lets you fuck her?”

You don’t know where this comes from. You’re always straightforward, but not like this. And definitely not to a man in his early forties you don’t even know. But you really want him, and you deserve to enjoy yourself for a minute.

His eyes are big, but his smirk tells a whole different story.

“If you’re sure,” he waves around, signaling you that you can leave and that he’s in. Your heart is racing as you take his hand. “I guess you want to be my good girl.”

*

His hands are everywhere: from your hair to your hips as soon as you close the door, surprising you. You drop the keys and your purse on the table and let him guide you to the mini-couch. If you thought the kiss from earlier was intense, the way he kisses you now makes you completely breathless. He’s really, really good at it, and the way he’s grabbing your ass is actually perfect. Even though his tongue explores your mouth with almost desperation, you don’t feel like he rushes anything at all.

“It’s Frank, by the way,” he whispers against your cheek before he starts unzipping your dress.

“What?”

You nervously let the sleeves fall and then step out of your dress. Your underwear doesn’t match and you are not prepared for sex, but he doesn’t seem to mind, staring straight at your bra as if it’s his worst enemy.

“My name, darling.”

“Frank...” You repeat. It fits him, it sounds straightforward.

He smiles widely, bringing his hand to your back to unhook your bra.

“I hope you’ll keep saying my name tonight. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.”

You can’t even be mad at him for his lie.

“I somehow doubt that, Frank,” you snort, throwing the bra on the floor yourself. You keep your eyes there for a few seconds, not knowing what to do, but you feel his hands on your breasts before you can even say something, squeezing and teasing your nipples.

“You have the most beautiful tits ever. Wanna bury my face in them as I fuck you. Would you let me do that too?”

You can’t help but sigh, bringing your hand to his chin. “You don’t have to lie to me, okay? I actually ask you not to.”

He stops fondling your breasts, and you make eye contact. He seems a little confused and maybe even mad.

“I mean every word I say. I don’t need to lie, do I? You said you’re gonna be my good girl. So I do feel like licking your tits as I fuck you till you scream my name, okay?”

“I never said I wanna be your good girl, did I?” You ask, changing the subject, and bring your hands to his flannel shirt-jacket to remove it.

“No, you’re right. You wanna be my brat.” He bites his bottom lip as you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can, noticing how your fingers tremble. “Have you ever been called a brat before? Did they even notice you are one?”

“Do you always talk about others during sex? That’s a total turn off for me, just so you know.” You pull off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. God, please have mercy! You finally meet his eyes. “And no, I haven’t been called that before. You’re the first one. Does that stroke your ego or,” you pause so you can unzip his jeans. “Should I stroke something else?”

“No need to stroke anything. How about being a good princess and lying on your back so I can get a taste of your pretty pussy, hmm?”

You probably made a face since he brings his lips between your brows, stopping you from frowning with a kiss.

“Princess, really? Did that really get you laid?”

“I thought it turns you off to talk about other people,” he whispers as you lower his jeans and briefs at the same time, trying not to frown again at the thought of what you brought up. You know it’s silly and unfair to wish to be seen as unique, especially in the eyes of a man with experience like Frank, but you can’t control your thoughts.

You shake your head, wanting to snap out of it. One night. You have to stop overthinking for only one night... or, well, until you two finish. “You’re right. Let’s just…”

He steps out of the pool of clothes but doesn’t let you go to the bed or even look down, holding your face so you can meet his eyes.

“I haven’t called anyone princess until now, I swear. And I’ve never been with someone this younger, either.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Frank.” You smile. “I promised to let you fuck me, so...”

“Sweetheart, hey!” His voice is not just soft, but also comforting. You immediately notice his bottom lip between his teeth, though. “Tell me if you changed your mind. Tell me to stop any time. I know you can’t fully believe that, but I promise I’m not lying about anything. I can charm you better with my tongue than with some words I wouldn’t believe in. I found you incredibly hot when I saw you tonight. Checked you out before you came to me, but I realized you’re way too young and you don’t need this shit. I assumed you’re with someone.” His thumb touches your bottom lip, and you whimper.

“Frank...”

“I could come just by looking at your face. Won’t even talk about your tits. Whoever made you feel otherwise is a fucking jackass.”

You don’t know if you should laugh or simply kiss the hell out of him, fighting the urge to apologize, so instead you look down, straight at his cock and gasp. It’s thick and so, so hard. The precome on the head makes you wonder how it’d taste. The slight curve and the visible veins make it look even hotter.

You’re nervous since you did this only two times, so you certainly can’t say you’re an expert.

You gently grab the head of his dick with your right hand, stroking a bit with your thumb. It steals a moan from him instantly, making you feel proud.

After that, you drop to your knees without hesitation, not taking off your hands until you make sure you are close enough. You look up at him just in time to see him pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, shocked.

“I wanna suck your cock so much, but I need some... guidance. I’m not,” you stop shyly for a second to rephrase it. “I want to know how you like it.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, are you trying to kill an old man?”

“Why, do you see one with us in the room?” You take one hand off so you can bring your tongue to the head and get a proper taste.

You feel his fingers flying to your hair instantly, almost pulling, and you keep looking into his eyes.

“S-stop, I told you I want to eat you, now be a good-” he hisses when you take his tip into your mouth, playfully letting your teeth just graze him. You don’t know where this came from, but you just had the urge to do it. “Fucking brat!”

This time he actually pulls your hair a little, making you actually whimper when you lose contact with his cock.

“If you don’t like it, you can, uh, fuck my mouth. I never... But I-”

“Fucking hell,” he groans, leaning it enough so he can grab you by your waist and lift you until he can properly take you in his arms to carry you.

“Just shut up for a sec and listen, okay?”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips. “Or what? Gonna punish me?” You mock him before telling him your name as he drops you on the bed.

“Yes, I’m gonna punish you. Is that your real name?”

You move, supporting yourself on your elbows as he spreads your legs.

“Yes, why? Did you give me a fake name?” You get goosebumps when you feel his hands on the sides of your underwear. And before you can continue to question him, you hear the tearing sound at the same time as you feel the underwear fall on the bed.

What the fuck?

“No, but I never know with a bratty little girl.”

“Little girl? You’ve just ripped my underwear, Frank!”

“You almost bit my cock!”

You roll your eyes. He’s so dramatic.

“If I’d really wanted to bite it, you’d have no cock right now to fuck me with, so...”

He shakes his head, and you almost reach for those strands that fall recklessly on his forehead. He has such pretty hair, you’re jealous.

“God, look at this.” He sounds so fascinated as his fingers find your slit. Your body jolts in surprise when you feel his touch. “So wet.”

He smiles cheekily before bringing his finger to your mouth and pressing it against your bottom lip so you can feel the wetness. Then he kisses you with hunger, licking and biting until you open.

He doesn’t just deepen the kiss, he also moves and drags you with him until you’re on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says suddenly, making you freeze for a couple of seconds. Unexpected.

He starts leaving a trail of kisses on his way down to your pussy: from your chin, to your neck, the valley between your tits, your navel, then right above your entrance.

“I want you not to hold back, okay? If you feel the need to ride my face, please do. If you want me to use my hands or tongue in any way, tell me. Guide me... use me, I’m all yours.”

The way he says the last part makes you whimper. He wants you to use him for your pleasure… and there is something about this that drives you absolutely crazy.

“Yes, Frank.”

He smiles, breathing out right against your entrance, making you shiver before licking. Fuck.

“Good girl.”

Your hips start moving before you realize what you’re doing, and Frank’s nose is brushing your clit, making you whimper. It was only for a second, but he immediately catches the sound.

He stops, and you open your eyes in panic. He told you to do whatever you felt like. There is no way he is mad about this, right?

He looks far from mad or bothered. He looks somehow more turned on than before, and the sound of him licking his fingers makes you shiver in anticipation.

You feel his mouth kissing your clit at the same time he curls a finger inside you. The moan escapes you before you can bite your lip, and you feel his smile between your legs.

You can’t help but rock your hips again, searching for his tongue, wanting to make him fasten the way he fucks you with his finger, but he is no hurry. He wraps his lips around your clit again and sucks slowly while his index finger stays unmoved inside you.

He’s a fucking tease!

Remembering his words from earlier but still hesitatingly, you let your back hit the bed and bring your right hand into his hair, pulling gently to get his attention.

He looks up, not changing anything, and you start stroking his hair. “Gimmie more. And... faster, please.”

You sound shyer than you wanted, but it’s the first time you have any kind of intimacy with this man. And it’s not like you have a lot of experience.

And thankfully, he doesn’t tease you more, getting another finger inside you, and he starts to pump them much faster. The way he sucks on your clit now is a bit different too, and it’s so good. You don’t even realize you’re pulling his hair until you feel his hand over yours, encouraging you to grab it harder.

“Don’t wanna h-hurt you.” It’s so hard to focus. “You have pretty... hair.”

The truth is that he has the prettiest hair you’ve ever seen, but you also never pulled your ex’s hair during sex. Ethan hated his hair being played with when he grew it out, and most of the time you wouldn’t even be able to pull it anyway since it was way too short.

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel Frank’s teeth teasing your clit. You’re extra sensitive.

“F-Frank!”

And it seems like he knows and he’s just messing with you.

This time, you don’t hesitate to move your hips, just not with too much force because you don’t want to suffocate him. But he seems like he does since he moans into your clit and starts basically suckling. You’re losing it. You’re losing it and you can’t even warn him. You’re coming all over his face with a hand in his hair and another grabbing the sheet under you.

He doesn’t stop any of his movements until you open your eyes and let go of his hair. You didn’t even realize how hard you’ve been pulling it, but you don’t feel bad, he seems to enjoy this a lot.

“You taste fucking fantastic.” These are the first words he manages to say between breaths, and in a second he is back on top of you, his lips shining with your wetness. You immediately bring your hand weakly to his chin and stroke his beard, which is also wet.

You shake your head a little, trying not to blush. He wouldn’t say that just for the sake of it... you can’t question it again, and you don’t know how to answer. What can you say? That he has a lovely tongue? So you choose to change the subject.

“Can I return the favor now, Frank?”

He frowns, closing the gap between your faces. “It is not a favor, princess.” And then he kisses you, giving you a taste of your own pussy. He’s not even trying to deepen the kiss, so you open your mouth, letting your tongue taste more of your wetness. His whimper makes you feel victorious, and you use it as an opportunity to explore inside his mouth. You can’t say you taste in a certain way, but at least it is not bad. Frank, on the other hand, has a taste you don’t think you’d ever get tired of.

“See?” He breaks the kiss. “Gonna get me addicted.”

You roll your eyes. “I highly doubt that, now please tell me you have a condom.”

He freezes for a bit, and you almost groan in disappointment, but then he smiles. “Yeah, I think I have one or two. Old habit.”

You don’t say anything about his last remark as you watch him get off the bed and grab his jeans from the floor. You try not to think once again about how this will end soon and you’ll be remembering this night for a long time. And thankfully, he is back with two condoms, smiling as he opens one. He lets the other on the floor and before you can offer to help, he’s already ready.

“How do you want me?”

He looks at you surprised, probably not expecting this question, but you don’t know what he likes.

“Wanna ask you one more time... are you sure you wanna do this? We can stop-”

“I told you I want your cock, Frank. That I want you to fuck me.” You giggle nervously, spreading your legs. He didn’t decide after all. “Now please...”

“Need to fuck this doubt out of you.” He shakes his head as he positions himself between your legs, and before you can answer, he leans in, grabbing a pillow and placing it under your head. “Let’s see how much it takes for you to cry out my name.”

You’re not sure why you feel so nervous. He ate you out, you played a bit with his cock, yet somehow this makes you agitated.

You’re proud of yourself for not closing your eyes even after he enters you. Your body is trapped between his elbows, and you whimper, grabbing his arm to keep some kind of sense of your surroundings.

He’s much thicker than Ethan, and you find yourself trying to spread your legs even further apart, wanting to feel more of him. It’s something thrilling about this discomfort because it makes you crave more.

“You okay?”

“Ihm,” you gasp, trying to find your breath.

“Should I stop?”

“What? Why?”

You realize shortly after he giggles what he actually means, and you look away embarrassed.

“I meant inside you, darling. You’re, uh-”

He forgets what he was gonna say when you raise your hips to get him deeper inside you, and without asking him for permission, you wrap your legs around his ass. You need him all the way in even if it’ll hurt. You want to enjoy this to the fullest... every second of it.

And it’s absolutely a joy to see a man like Frank lose his focus.

“S-so good.”

“God, are you-” He moans when you rock your hips a bit more, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full. “You’re perfect, fuck!”

“I n-need you to move, Frank. Fuck me, okay?” The more you try to fuck him the louder the impact of your bodies gets... from your slickness to his balls hitting your ass.

God, you never wanted to be fucked so hard more than now!

“Please, give it to me, I can... I can handle it.”

It’s like something snaps inside him because in no time you’re getting what you wanted. He’s fucking you and smiling in a way that you can only describe as devlish. It’s sexy, and mocking, and warm at the same time. It makes you lose your mind.

“Look at you, begging to take my cock, beg- fuck! Begging for me to fill this pretty pussy. So wet for me!”

You wrap your legs around his ass even harder, digging your heels a little into his cheeks when he starts pounding you into the bed. You can’t keep down your moans even though you try to. So you bring your palm to your mouth so you can bite it. But Frank doesn’t seem to like it. Not at all... He stops mid-thrust, making you cry, needing more, just to move your hand away from your lips and pin it to the bed.

“Under no circumstances, you’re allowed to do this again.” His tone might be authoritative, but his eyes are soft and warm. You can’t help but bring your other hand to his face to stroke his beard.

“Why not?”

“Be a good girl and don’t play.” He’s not waiting for you to respond, though. He lowers his face a bit more and kisses you, making it impossible for you to breathe as he starts thrusting again as well. The pace is faster, more brutal somehow than before. He swallows a few of your moans as you desperately cling to his shoulders, trying to gain some strength to roll your hips back to meet his. When you do it, he hisses, breaking the kiss just to murmur how wet and tight you are. How good you feel and how he’s never gonna be the same. You can’t focus on anything, especially not on his words. Your eyes are blurry from the tears, and you can’t stop moaning. It’s like you have no control over your body, and for once, it’s not scary.

You lose it, though, when he lowers his hand to your clit and circles it over and over again. It’s like something short-circuits your body. You’re no longer just holding onto his shoulders, either, you’re scratching them without realizing as you come still crying. The way you scream his name, on the other hand, is enough for Frank to come too, thrusting a few more times before falling on top of you; his head right on your breasts as the pleasure takes over his body. You don’t care how heavy he is as you watch him through the fogginess looking so content.

“Was it okay?” You whisper, caressing his scratched shoulder with one hand while stroking the back of his head with the other one. “Sorry for hurting you.”

“Did you just use the word okay to describe what’s just happened?” He raises his head before rolling over so he’d stop crushing you. “This is the best sex I’ve had in my life, Jesus! And hurting me? Please, princess, it was so hot.”

You snort, suddenly more relaxed. He enjoyed it. Probably exaggerating with the best part, but still...

“I guess you have a pain kink, Frank.”

A huge smile spreads on his face as he pulls you to his chest. You don’t care that you’re both sweaty, you want to cuddle with him. You only have a condom left, then you’ll be alone again. And you might never have this crazy sex ever in your life. The thought makes you wanna cry, but you need to focus on the present. He’s still here.

“Should I bring you some water?” You feel his lips on your forehead. “Gonna get you a towel. Want a snack? You’ll need your strength for round two.”

It looks like he’s in no hurry, so you take a deep breath and smile.

“Some water sounds great. I can clean myself though, no need to bother yourself.”

But he’s on his feet before you can even finish speaking.

“You better not move!”

#frank endings beginnings #endings beginnings #endings beginnings frank #frank endings beginnings smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #frank endings beginnings x reader #endings beginnings frank x reader #fanfic #my stories #my fanfics

[assembletheimagines]

okay, no thoughts only neighbor bucky

just- just hear me out

Knocking on your apartment door has you running from your room to the living room, not even taking the time to check who it is before swinging the door open.

A metal hand comes up to your head before you can say anything, two fingers pointing to your temple as your eyes met Bucky’s. Your neighbor gives you a stern look. “Is there any food?”

You glance at his hand that was shaped like a gun to your head, not even phased by his actions before looking back at your neighbor. “No.”

“Are you hungry?” You two hadn’t left your doorway as the soft night wind from outside blew into your tiny apartment.

“Yes.” Bucky drops his hand then and swiftly turns around.

“Let’s go out to eat,” he says and walks back out into the hallway as your lips curve into a goofy grin.

“Okay!” You cheer excitedly and scramble to put on your shoes as he waits for you.

-

You two sit across from one another as you sit inside a late-night ramen shop.

Your eyebrows furrow as you reach your chopsticks for the last piece of gyoza the same time as Bucky. Both of you look at one another for a moment as the last piece hangs in the air between both of your chopsticks and his eyes narrow teasingly.

With fast reflex's, he tugs the yummy appetizer to him. But you don’t give in easy. Just as fast, you shove your chopsticks between his and make the gyoza drop onto his tiny plate. A smile forming on your lips when you see the surprise on your neighbor’s face.

Unfortunately, Bucky gets the last laugh as he stabs the delicious dumpling and shoves it into his mouth with a triumph smile before you could do anything else.

#assembletheimagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #honestly say a kdrama clip for the beginning and couldn't stop thinking about bucky tbh lol

[cadencejames87]

Playing the Long Game

Sneak Peek at a WIP I will eventually finish...

Pairings: Frank (EB) x Female Reader x Mickey Henry, TJ Hammond x Steve Rogers, ex-Ari Levinson x Female Reader, ex-Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Mentions of: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes & Female Reader x TJ Hammond

"I know that look, and if I wasn't in love with Steve--" he begins, slowly shaking his head and reaching out to caress your cheek.

"I'd already be on my knees," you finish in a whisper.

His mouth curves up on one side, as a fond memory fills his thoughts. "I love you, Y/N." He licks his lips, briefly looking at yours. Then all at once, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth with deep breath, his hand falls, and stands taller, rolling his shoulders back. "You're my best friend, always. Now go get yourself some dick, before I fire all three of you."

Your smile grows, "I love you too, TJ."

He grabs you by the wrist as you turn to leave and pulls you hard against him, lips crashing together, his tongue swiping past your lips. "Always," he breathes.

You cups his cheeks and look deeply into his sparkling blue eyes, "Steve is a lucky man." You smile softly with a slight nod and step back. “Stupid, but...” You shrug and finally leave the back room.

TJ follows you out, “Was that? Are you?”

You turn to him, walking backwards, “I’m just saying, his ex,” you let out a dreamy sigh. TJ joins your side as you turn back around, your steps falling in sync. “Don’t get me wrong, you are amazing and wonderful and you deserve all of the love and happiness. And if you ever find yourself in the same room as him, seeing as they still work together and seem to have kept their friendship; at least from a media point of view... It wouldn’t hurt to slip that beefy, god of a man, your best friend’s number.” You split ways tossing a smile over your shoulder as you return to the bar and TJ steps into his office smirking and rolling his eyes.

Characters:

The dick(s)

The Ex:

#tj hammond #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #frank endings beginnings #mickey henry #mickey monday #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x reader #future fic #fic wip

[buckybuckyboo]

Fans of Sebastian Stan

Fan of Sebastian? Join the discord server!

This discord is for persons OVER 21

#bucky barnes #sabastian stan #chris beck #chase collins #captian america #carter baizen #jack benjamin #james bucky barnes x reader #steve kemp #tj hammond #charles blackwood #lance tucker #nick fowler #lee bodecker #scott huffman #jefferson #mickey henry #endings beginnings #tommy lee #max bennett

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

Part Two, Part Three

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