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#bucky barnes dialogue

appocalipse · 21 days

Text

something good ⋆ bucky barnes

summary: bucky is about to go to war without confessing his feelings for you. you are about to watch him leave without confessing your feelings for him. that is, unless one of you gets up the courage to do something about it...

"I...need some fresh air. I'll be back."

Steve looks like he's going to argue with you as you push the chair out, but then you glance toward where Bucky disappeared in the crowd of people dancing, and Steve's face softens before he gives you a nod.

"We'll be right here," he says, pointing to your barely-touched drink. "Be careful."

The alley behind the bar is damp and quiet, cool from the rain earlier in the day but blissfully empty. You lean against the bricks and tip your head back, closing your eyes.

Steve was wrong — you should have stayed home.

He'd begged you to come out tonight; it wasn't just the two of them, he'd said, his eyes wide with hope. A few others had been invited, too, old friends who Bucky had wanted to see one last time before shipping out tomorrow.

And girls, of course. Girls with big smiles and bright eyes, who looked at Bucky as if they were hungry and he was a steak dinner.

To his credit, though, Bucky had asked you to dance first, and you'd said no. No, because it would have been impossible to act casually around him with your hands on his chest and his on your waist.

So, yes, you’d needed some fresh air after that. How could you not, when—

"Are you mad at me?"

You turn toward the voice that came from down the alley. Even though it's dark, you, of course, recognize him instantly, silhouetted against the weak light coming from inside the bar.

"Me? No, you—I'm not," you reply, your tongue feeling like it weighs three pounds. You attempt a smile. "What are you doing out here? You should be inside, enjoying your last night, no?"

Bucky shrugs and walks closer, but only far enough so you can see each other without straining.

"I was looking for you," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Steve said you'd come out here."

"I'll go back inside soon, I promise. Don't worry."

He doesn't move except to kick a loose pebble away from his toe. "Why didn't you want to dance with me?"

Your stomach plummets at the question. He sounds almost hurt, and you wish you could explain yourself to him in a way that doesn't include blurting out your stupid feelings in the process.

"Uh...I don't know, I just...well, no reason," you stumble, wishing desperately that you weren't such an idiot. "I thought I'd keep Steve company while you...you know."

"Danced with the rest of them?"

You nod silently.

Bucky makes a scoffing sound before running a hand through his hair. "They're all the same."

"Okay..."

"It's not, uh, it's not what you think," he continues, taking a step forward, then back again as if he's unsure of how close to stand. "The girls — they're nice and pretty, sure, but...they're just not... I don't think they're my type, I guess."

"Uh-huh," you murmur, turning your gaze downward toward your shoes, suddenly finding it easier to look anywhere but at him. "Yeah, well, we better get back before—"

"Is there somebody else?"

The air in your lungs vanishes at his abrupt question, and you look up as your heart starts beating out of rhythm.

"Excuse me?" you whisper, surprised that you've even found your voice. "Somebody else?"

"Somebody that you...that you're seeing," Bucky says slowly, his words strained, as if every one causes him pain.

You stare at him for a second, hoping this is a joke, that maybe Steve put him up to asking these ridiculous questions — or maybe he's been drinking too much — because, surely, Bucky couldn't possibly be trying to ask you what you think he's trying to ask you.

"Bucky, let's just go back inside—"

"It's Steve, isn't it?" he cuts you off with the most absurd statement yet. His expression softens. "It's okay, really. If you are, I mean. He's a really good guy."

"Steve?!" You actually laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking your head until the shock fades away into incredulity. "Jesus Christ, no! I mean, Steve is...he's like a brother to me, what...what the hell are we even talking about?"

"But...there's someone?" he asks again, sounding less upset than he had a few moments ago.

"No, not—no," you say, slouching against the wall and shrugging halfheartedly. "There's no one. Honestly, there hasn't been since..."

"Since when?"

Since I met you.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and praying that a sinkhole will open up and swallow you whole. This has gone on long enough. "I don't know. It's...been a little while. I don't know what you want me to say, really."

"I just wondered."

"Okay, fine."

You start to walk back to the door leading inside, but Bucky moves so quickly that you run smack into his chest.

"Wait, just—"

He grabs your hand and holds it gently, thumb softly brushing along your knuckles.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected contact. You glance down at where he's holding onto you, then back up again, confused, curious, wondering if this is real and not some strange dream you'll wake up from any moment now.

You exhale with a shaky laugh when he lifts his other hand to your cheek and rubs his thumb across it, stopping at the corner of your mouth.

Slowly, so slowly, he leans in.

"Bucky," you breathe, his name soft on your tongue.

His forehead touches yours, and you reach up to rest a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

"Do you not want me to...?"

He's never been this close to you, but everything about the moment feels familiar — the heat radiating from his body, the light scratch of his stubble on your cheek, the smell of him surrounding you.

You lift your chin slightly. "I do, but..."

"Just..." You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips; he's so close now that they brush against yours as he speaks. "I wish I'd...said something before it came to this."

"Before what came to this?"

"That I'd have...asked you. Proper, like. Dinner, movie. You know, the way it shoulda been. Before I...before I leave."

You stiffen at the word leave, pulling back so that you can look him in the eye.

"Bucky..."

"I wish I would've asked you to dinner. Would've loved to take you to dinner," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Wouldn't that have been nice, doll?"

A small smile lifts the corner of your mouth. "It would've."

"It could've been nice, you and me."

"I think it could have been."

"Yeah?" he chuckles quietly, lifting your hand and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your fingers, then your palm. "I think it can still be. You see, I'm quite selfish. I'd like to go to war with something good to think of. Something — or someone — to come home to. That'd be worth coming home to."

"Like...Steve?"

It's a joke, of course, and Bucky, to his credit, does laugh, too. Then, he slips a finger under your chin and tips your face up toward his. You hold your breath as he dips his head to place a gentle, barely-there kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Not like Steve. No."

The music from inside the bar becomes louder, a woman's voice singing softly, sweetly. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear...

"I..." You clear your throat nervously, fiddling with the collar of his jacket. "You better come back to me in one piece."

"You gonna be waiting for me?"

You smirk. "I mean, I already waited this long, so I might as well—"

The rest of your words disappear into his kiss. You gasp at the sudden, almost desperate press of Bucky's lips on yours, but then he brings his hands to the sides of your face and kisses you more gently, more slowly, more purposefully, as if he has a lot to say to you in this moment but words fail him and the only thing left to do is this — to kiss you, over and over, again and again, to say, with his lips, with his hands, with every inch of himself...that he'll come back to you.

You whimper as Bucky's teeth catch your lower lip and tug before letting go. He pulls back far enough to look at you, to see your swollen lips parted. "So...that means yes, right?"

"Yes," you murmur. You slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling his mouth back down to yours. "It means yes."

380 notes · View notes

adrinktostopyourthirst · 9 months

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Finally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Spy!Reader

Plot: Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff and angst.

Words: 9,1OO

A/N: Recently I’ve been trying to understand what it is people want to read of my works and I have no idea, so here is my brain in scrambled pieces. I'm so sorry it’s so long, I swear it's worth it!

Romania.

It isn’t often you agree to such an extensive trip to meet up with one of your clients, but apparently this particular one can’t be seen in the more supervised countries. Besides, you’ve never been to Bucharest before, so you’re quite enjoying your drink at the small picturesque café.

You’ve done your research and know damn well who you’re meeting up with. A small part of you is screaming at you not to agree to do business with him or back out now, but your curiosity overrules any common sense. Last you heard, Hydra had lost their favourite asset and you can confidently say you were relieved to hear it. It had been a few too many times that specific organisation had made your job more difficult than it had to be.

A many number of things could have happened to the Winter Soldier. He could’ve been killed, corrupted by another organisation, fled to live as a hermit– You really want to know. It’s the spy in you that enjoys knowing the ins and outs of the criminal world. He’d tried not to mention who he is, but you had a few offers on the table, he needed some leverage to get you to agree to meet him. Safe to say, you were surprised he’d told you he was the Winter Soldier. Big chance you will now be the only person to know about the asset’s current whereabouts. That is, if you live to tell it of course…

Every hair in your neck stands up straight, despite the comfortable weather and the easy going crowd roaming the street. The sudden change in atmosphere has your spy senses stand on alert. Your spine stiffens and you causally look around, slightly discouraged at the way your body has never responded to anything in this particular manner.

You cross your legs and turn to look behind you, scanning every face in the crowd. When you turn back, the seat next to yours is taken, only a rickety metal table separating you from the large man sat in the other chair. Your breath halts in your throat and you look him up and down, instantly recognising the buff man as the Winter Soldier. How? You’re not sure, you’d never really seen a picture.

You check his hands. Gloves. With this weather? To cover up. You check his build and take a particularly long time to do so, because God, this man is broad. He’s all sturdy flesh and muscle, firm and casual. His thighs look like tree trunks and you know the man is fast, despite his build. You force the deliberate sweep of your eyes over his body to appear more nonchalant and confident than you feel.

Then your eyes reach his face and the breath gets knocked out of you. There is nothing in that face that hints towards a stone cold killer. Dark blue, deep set eyes, freckles pattered over his nose and cheeks, lips bitten raw from contemplation and an expression on his face that almost looks like… Nerves?

“Hello,” you start carefully, unable to keep your surprise from your tone, but sounding relatively cool to your own relief.

“Hi,” he says and the tone of his voice is deep, but rough, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. You think that maybe he hasn’t.

“Should I refer to you as the Winter Soldier?” you ask, composing your cool nature entirely now. “Or would you say that is a bit on the nose?”

He huffs a laugh and you smile, feeling the overwhelming urge to make him do that again. “James will do, thanks.”

“Alright James,” you say, taking your time to let your mouth get acquainted with his name, “what is it you need my services for?”

“I hear you’re a spy,” he starts and searches your face. “A good one– the best one.”

“Well now, I’d hate to disappoint,” you purr. “What do you need?”

“It’s not so much a document or one piece of information,” he mumbles and his face hardens as he collects himself. You sit upright and frown as you study him. “I need you as a partner for an assignment.”

You instantly shake your head, “Absolutely not. I’m not working for Hydra, that organisation is–”

“Not Hydra,” he quickly cuts in. “Just me. It’s a personal assignment.”

You wait for him to continue, not appreciating his vague communication if he wants to become partners on whatever this is.

He sighs, “I– I have a lot of… gaps. Things I don’t remember, things I can’t quite place. Years of information. The things I did for Hydra– I wasn’t there for most of it. Neither were a lot of people. So I need someone with access to some dark shit to help me figure it out.”

Chewing your lip, you process the information he gives you and empathy clenches your heart together. James gives you the time you need to put the pieces together. You’d heard of Hydra’s experiments with brainwashing and had already sort of assumed some of their soldiers had only worked for them because of that reason, had stayed far away from the organisation’s shit to steer clear from that danger.

But it’s so different to see it in real life, or what is left of it, you suppose. Many things aren’t quite clear to you just yet. However, you slowly start nodding your head. Your brain starts running a million miles an hour, all the gears turning to form a plan, the way you always do before you agree to a job.

“Can you pay me for the service?” you ask, already wondering to yourself if you’d help the clearly hopeless and damaged man for free, and to be honest, just for kicks. The things you’d dig up from everything he’ll give you– Selfishly, you’d kill for it. Anyone would kill for it.

He gives you a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “Not that much. But I can save up more.”

You think. Your gut tells you he won’t kill you after he gets what he wants, even though he could. And though you will always keep a close eye on him and everything he’s capable of, your gut feeling has never disappointed you.

So you sigh and shake your head. “That’s okay. I’ll do all of it for free, and you can pay me what little you have to insure that I stay quiet. Sound fair?”

His eyes narrow with a twinkle that you hadn’t expected from a man like him and he says, “Deal.”

“Alright,” you say and finish your coffee before clearing your throat. “First order of business: tell me your full name.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Oh shit.

You do know him.

Germany.

Relief seeps into your bones as you cross the threshold of your building and you slip into your routine of coming home. Tired feet drag you through your building and to your apartment, and muscle memory unlocks your door. After the week you’ve had, you are ready to turn off your brain and settle down.

You enjoy being this tired though, revel in it. Exhausting yourself with a normal person job and the way it puts your usually restless body to sleep at night is exactly what you wanted for your life.

One step into your own hallway, however, makes your daydream of a quiet night in crumble to your feet. Something is off. You can blame your trained senses for being so instantly on edge, but the apartment you just stepped into isn’t a place that has been vacated for the past nine hours. This apartment isn’t empty.

An even older routine settles into your bones this time and you creep into your home on light feet. The air is warm and the space is completely quiet. You’ve been alive long enough, seen enough, to know quiet is never good.

You don’t turn on any lights and let your eyes adjust to the dark. Ears perked and muscles at the ready to spring into action, you slowly make your way further into your home. And when you slip around the corner and look into your darkened living room, you let out a frustrated sigh at the dark figure lounging on your couch.

“How did you find me here,” you grumble and it is hardly a question.

You can feel him sit up and tune in to your presence. You couldn’t explain it if your life depended on it, but you instantly knew who it was. The dark figure in the dark apartment, waiting patiently for someone to catch him. After all, he will deny it until his dying day, but he does have an awful lot of dramatic flair for someone so stoic.

“Better question is: why are you here?” he counters and you drop your bag onto one of your dining chairs, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Trying to stay off the radar, are you?”

“And failing, clearly,” you say before he can say it for you. “How did you find me here, James?”

Your eyes are finally fully adjusted and you see the smirk forming on his face. You haven’t seen that smirk in five years. “I have my ways,” he says and pushes off the couch, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now, what are you doing in this abandoned town?”

“It’s not abandoned,” you counter and slip off your coat, deciding to just go about your old routine and ignore his presence as much as you can. Maybe then he’ll go away.

“It’s a shit town and you know it.” He cocks his head at you, eyes tracking all of your movements.

You notice his puzzled look. He’s genuinely wondering what is left of his old ally and you can’t quite blame him. Perhaps he can easily see your lame attempt at finding a normal life for yourself. He has probably tried a thousand times himself to escape the roaring life of saving the world, has probably failed every time, too. But you’re determined to make it work – make yourself normal and live a full life.

And that is all you were to him anyway, just an ally. The entire time, you’d felt that he paid a little too much attention to you, but you supplied critical information and occasionally wiped someone off the map. A spy. Nothing more, nothing less. However, for the infamous Winter Soldier to need your alliance again, you cannot help but feel wary.

After the first time he approached you, you’d spent months together. It was an effort not to grow too close – too much effort. Because you had. It was impossible not to, helping someone literally piece their life together through intimate and awful memories. Digging through protective walls and coping mechanisms to help him rebuild some of his life again. With a lot of reluctance from both of you.

Yes, you’d grown close then. Grown close enough that you fell asleep slumped over the kitchen counter in his awful Romanian apartment, your face sticking to the countless research papers. You’d woken up hours later on his poorly constructed bed on the floor with a blanket thrown over your frame. Close enough that you’d eventually asked him to assist you on your missions. Ones that required a different skillset than your own. Close enough that you cooked for each other, sometimes shared clothes, roasted one another for the mental health issues that lead you both to your current occupations.

After a while, you couldn’t describe your relation to Barnes in any other way than a partnership. Partners. Who had kissed once. Maybe twice. After some bad Vodka.

You sigh and turn to him, “Why are you here, James?”

“I need to lay low for a while.” A wider smirk, his eyes narrowing at you. “I remembered I know someone who is very good at that.”

“Careful,” you warn and roll your eyes. “You just gave me a compliment.”

His smirk turns to a smile and he shrugs off his own jacket, instantly making himself at home in your apartment. A strange thing when it comes to Bucky, since you don’t recall that man feeling at home anywhere. Then, he did always have this incessant cocky streak around you and he is awfully good at getting on your nerves, so he probably sees the perfect opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

“If you so much as sneeze on anything, I swear–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, his tone unimpressed. “You’ll skin me alive. You’re always so weird about your stuff.”

You give him a tiny proud smile and decide to make yourself something quick to eat, only to feel him peer at you from the edge of your kitchen. He’s met with a confused frown before you raise your brows at him to make him spit it out.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily.

You smile and look down at the sandwich you’re making. “Nothing. Just fix your shit and get out of my hair as quickly as possible.”

He winces slightly and you turn to him fully now, slowly taking a bite.

“What.”

Bucky sucks in a short breath and gives you an apologetic look before he speaks, “It might be a while…”

Your brows drop, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I–”

“Bucky.” You cut him another look, one shaped by many, many instances of working together. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It’s not important. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You open your mouth to continue arguing with him, but decide against it, already done with his shit. Yes, he is doing better and supposedly now qualifies as a good person. But you know the man before you and the soldier cannot stop himself from lying about pretty much everything. He has damaged tendencies. Give him an inch and he will take a mile, show him a weakness and he will exploit it. You genuinely think he doesn’t know how to be different, how to not abuse those effortless skills he trained all those years working for Hydra and surviving it.

“It’s my weekend off,” you tell him instead. “If you get between me and my plans, I will change the locks.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think I can’t get through a simple lock?”

Another glare is his answer and he raises his hands in surrender. You walk around him and toe off your own shoes, grabbing everything to take a shower as you shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth. Bucky slowly strolls through your place and examines everything that belongs to you.

“Can you not pretend like you haven’t completely scanned the place already before I got home?” you ask him as you make way for the bathroom.

“It can’t hurt to have a second look,” he mumbles, but you have already closed the door and move take the shower you’ve been looking forward to the entire day.

You should probably work harder to get him out, should probably make an escape plan and move somewhere else. But you know arguing with him is futile and the best approach with him is to patiently wait for him to move on. Bucky doesn’t get attached and doesn’t nest, so he’ll be gone soon enough.

As the scolding water trickles down your scalp and spine, you realise how much more alert you should have been when you noticed someone was in your home. Especially with all of those loose ends and enemies you have scattered across this planet (and others). Yet, somehow you think your body knew it was Bucky waiting for you. After all, it isn’t the first time he’s pulled this shit, waiting up for you. Usually because you kept something from him, he found out and would start ambushing you to fess up.

And even though technically, you haven’t exactly kept anything from him this time, you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that explaining your current situation will be the hardest thing to ever speak up about. How pathetic, to try and live a normal life when you’re ‘extraordinary’. Ugh, you hate that word. You’re trained well and you refuse to be anything but good at what you put your mind at.

Now, Bucky. He is extraordinary. He has potential to make a difference. You have always felt that. Hated working with him because of that. Not because of him – he never made you feel less than him at all. But–

The water turns cold and you groan audibly, time having slipped away from you as you got lost in thought. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you get ready to walk out of the bathroom. You’re met with Bucky sitting on your couch, reading one of your books.

“Let me guess, warm water’s gone?” he asks, not looking up from the book.

You walk to your bedroom and shrug, “Cold showers are good for you, I heard.”

“I suppose I’ll take the couch then?” he asks, finally looking up from the book.

You turn back and peek through your doorway at him. “You can take the floor if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Not by choice.”

He smirks, “You liked it.”

“You snore.”

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He grins at you.

You make to get to bed when you pause and turn back to him once more with a slight frown. “Why are you so cheerful? Aren’t there people after you?”

“Well,” he says, casual as always, “these may very well be my last days, so I might as well be in a good mood.”

You find yourself swallowing hard and desperately search his face for any intel on how true his statement is, without giving away that you might just care a little bit about his well-being. But his grin stays firm in place and he raises his brows in wait for you to call it a night.

Without another word, you close the door between you and crawl into your comfortable bed. And you wonder why it is that you can’t quite get comfortable this time.

…

A powerful jolt rips through your body as you lift out of layers of sleep. You’re too tired for whatever made you wake up so suddenly. It’s too goddamn late for this shit.

But as you gain more and more of your consciousness, your senses start perking up and you realise you might very well be in danger. The gentle and calm voice calling your name with a warm stroke of a hand down your arm, confirms that for you. That specific type of calm in Bucky’s voice sends your body into overdrive.

“We’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he murmurs and is already throwing clothes onto your bed. “Now.”

You sit up and rub your eyes and it dawns on you after a week of Bucky staying at your place. This man wasn’t going to leave you until he got chased out of your apartment. And that day has come.

“Bucky,” you start with a hoarse voice as you climb out of your warm bed and quickly throw on the clothes he picked for you, “who the fuck is after you?”

He takes his time to answer, pulling two fully packed backpacks from the corner of your room that you surprisingly didn’t know he hid there. Oh, this man is going to get an ear full about this bullshit.

“Some weird underground cartel that deals in tech or something,” he grumbles and throws you a pack. You are nearly too slow to catch it before you sling it onto your back. You gape at him after his answer and his face stays solemn as he pushes a hand gun into your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Bucky.”

He stops and turns to you fully. “It’s bad, okay? I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

He groans out your name, peeking outside while he impatiently chews on his lip. “Don’t do this right now. You can be pissed at me later!”

“I will be pissed at you now,” you seethe, “and later. How about that?!”

He sighs and then grabs your arm, giving you a boyish grin before shooting two bullets through your window, breaking the glass, slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and jumping out of the fucking window with you clinging to him. It’s only when you fly about five stories down, that you realise the two of you are attached to a bungee rope that eases your descent. His feet touch the ground first, yours following. He cuts the rope and grabs your hand before he starts running towards the parking lot beneath your building.

“Bucky, you piece of shit!” you yell at him as you run, hearing the faint sound of gun fire behind you over the sound of your ragged breathing.

“I’ll make it up to you!” he simply yells back.

You can hear the smile in his voice. And the worst thing? You feel yourself smiling as well when you realise how easily you’ve slipped back into being his partner in crime.

…

Bucky checks one more time, his gleaming metal hand pulling the sheer curtain aside to peer out onto the dark streets. You hear some shouting coming from outside and still feel your heart pounding, even when you know you have definitely outrun those people coming after you. You hate how out of practice you are. And how much you missed the adrenaline of being on the run with Bucky.

He turns back to you and finds you with your arms crossed, glaring at him. Oh, you know the perfect way to let out this adrenaline. There might be actual steam coming out of your ears.

Bucky cringes and slowly strolls over, already reaching out his hands to use his irresistible charm on you. Like the time he dropped the cake you made one afternoon and tried to make it up to you. Or that time he left some very important documents in one of the buildings he set on fire. Or the time he accidentally deleted your recordings off the TV when you had been looking forward to watching the next episode for two weeks.

However, your burning eyes stop him dead in his tracks and he opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and closes his mouth again. A second later, he tries again, “Okay. Give it to me.”

You give him a satisfied, albeit sadistic smile, at his willingness to take your scolding and then, you start yelling. You have no idea what words specifically are rolling off your tongue, but your speech starts somewhere during that first meeting in Bucharest, drifts to your entire time together as partners, how you drifted apart, only for him to show up whenever he pleased, and you continue to how he stood at your door a little over a week ago, to him terrorising your happy little life in Germany… To now.

Your voice rises with every instance you tell him about, fire burning in your core and hands flailing to give your story that much more power (even though you couldn’t stop your conviction if you tried). As the grin on his face grows through your rambling, a metal hand pressing to his lips to stop it from showing too much, you burn even brighter with fury.

Then you stop, breathing heavily. You give him a withering look to get him to start speaking up, because let’s be honest, all the two of you really needed was only just a look.

His shoulders slowly stop shaking and he drops his hand, eyes sparkling like a glass of Prosecco in the light. Devious asshole. “I just– I haven’t seen you this alive in a while. It looks fantastic on you.”

You gape at him like a fish and you wonder if the warmth in your face still belongs to your anger. Though you fear it belongs to quite the opposite. Either way, this man certainly knows how to make you passionate. And you realise he knows what you have been trying to do with your fake little life here in Germany.

“I don’t think you–”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps forward, his large hands cupping your face as he looks down at you with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for making your life so goddamn miserable. So tell me how to make it up to you.”

And for all the world, you can tell he means it. Can tell that he will do anything to make it up to you. You can almost feel the squeeze of pain in your own heart when you see the disappointment in his eyes after he realises you didn’t enjoy this as much as he had.

But the worst part is, is that you did. You’ve never felt more alive than with him. Never felt more like you. You wouldn’t necessarily call him an adventurer, maybe he is just a magnet for trouble. But whenever you’re with Bucky, you’ll drop anything for him and you’ll burn like an inferno doing so. He makes you into the best version of yourself and he makes you love the parts about yourself that you have been conditioned to feel guilty about.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He doesn’t let go though and searches your eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. “I’m going to make it up to you, you know.”

You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? How?”

He smirks and your knees weaken. “I could kiss it better.”

“Shameless flirt,” you huff and roll your eyes as an excuse to break his intense stare on you.

“You’re just too proud to admit that my kisses would make you forgive me,” he prods and your eyes snap back to his. He’s right, that is pride surging in your chest to lunge at him.

“You’ve grown too cocky for your own good,” you sneer at him.

“You like it.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Manipulator.”

He feigns hurt, “Ouch.”

You huff a laugh with a roll of your eyes, “Such a fragile ego.”

He smirks again and you swallow as you fight to look at his lips. So close to your own. “Now you have to kiss me for forgiveness.”

You can’t help but truly laugh this time, your face still safely tucked in his palms and his brows raise with intrigue at the sound of your laughter.

You tell him, “You are so full of shit.”

His smile fades, his eyes large with earnest and all of a sudden, it’s the man standing before you that sat next to you in that Romanian café. Stripped down, bare, rough, and perhaps a bit vulnerable.

“Let me kiss you,” he says in merely a whisper now.

You fight for your life not to falter to that genuine request and the way he said it. “It won’t make me forgive you,” you say softly, but barely hear your own voice over the increased pounding of your heart in your throat.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “Just want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t wait for your permission either, because quite frankly, you most likely gave him a look of permission instantly at that request. His soft lips slot over yours and you could’ve never predicted the depraved moan that resounded in the back of your throat as your mouths meet. Your hands instantly slip into his hair as Bucky’s hands slide around your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

The kiss deepens when his tongue meets yours and he lets out a groan of his own, a sound so addicting that you instinctively tug on his hair to hear it again. The laugh against your lips is rough as he hauls you closer and changes the kiss. Something more desperate and impatient. Something hot and sweaty and slightly messy. You might be walking as Bucky finds something to press you up against or lay you down on, and you almost squawk in surprise as you fall back onto the double, motel bed.

Though before you can say anything else, Bucky is on you again, his mouth demanding and greedy against yours. His hands feel and grab and squeeze every inch of you and you grind your hips upward for his weight. You want his heaviness between your hips and on your stomach and against your chest.

Growing impatient, convinced that Bucky’s brain might no longer be working, you lock your ankles around his hips and pull him down between your legs, sighing a groan of relief at the feeling of him tucked against you so warmly.

“God dammit,” he grunts and gives one luxurious roll of his hips against yours, making you whine as your pulse hammers down in your core.

His mouth grazes against your neck now and you can hardly breathe, panting as if you’ve run a marathon. The pressure between your hips leaves as he moves further down and you buck your hips at the ache he leaves.

“Bucky,” you whimper and look down, heart slamming in your throat at the sight of him. He messily yet gently makes his way down your body. Hands roughly pushing up your shirt as his lips find the plane of your stomach, kissing from your bra, down to your hips that you can��t seem to keep still.

Your body feels so heavy, yet so light without him on top of you and you can’t remember any moment before this kiss. Before five minutes ago. Everything is solidified. Your entire history with him. And Bucky presses a kiss just below your navel that confirms that feeling, his hands peeling off your jeans. That is until he speaks.

“Listen to me,” he orders and you freeze at the sound of him. He’s only sounded like that during missions where either of you might die. So serious and detrimental. “Don’t ever try to build a life without me again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” he snaps and you close your mouth. “Don’t ever pretend like we don’t exist. Like you and I aren’t supposed to do this shit together, like you are better off without me, like I am better off without you. That’s bullshit.” You give him a questioning look. Where is this coming from? “I’m going to kiss you and you are going to forgive me. And then I am going to kiss you some more.”

He waits then. For you to answer, to process what it is he is saying exactly. It’s a lot of words with a lot of meaning, yet you’re not sure if this is the declaration you didn’t know you were waiting for.

So you speak from your gut and let out a breath, “Finally.”

Bucky smiles at that and surges upward, clearly happy with that intuitive answer. His lips claim yours once again and then you feel his fingers inching up your thigh.

You whine softly against his lips and you feel him smile as his fingers reach your drenched core. Two fingers slip through your folds to explore your wetness and Bucky drops his head into the crook of you neck.

“Finally indeed,” he breathes and slips his middle finger into you, making you whimper and buck your hips.

The stretch against your swollen walls sends an ache through your abdomen that cries out for more. You cannot explain the desperation to have him, to have every empty pit of you filled with his essence. His finger curls up and you throw your head back, making Bucky raise his own head to look at you.

“There?”

You nod frantically and Bucky pushes in another finger, making you tense up around him. He curls that one too and you don’t recognise the sound spilling from your lips. You’re already so fucking full.

As Bucky teasingly darts his thumb over your swollen clit, he traces his tongue over your mouth and you gasp for air at the sensation.

“Bucky, fuck!” you cry and he pushes his mouth to yours in a claiming kiss, his fingers moving faster as his thumb rotates over your clit. You can barely kiss him back, overtaken by pleasure as he pumps his fingers over and over until you can hear your wetness surround his sinful fingers.

It is by far the hottest thing you have ever experienced. So much time has passed and now this beast of a man who tries everything to make you blush with his flirty persona, is bent over you with his fingers peeling your pleasure to the surface like his own fucking release depends on it.

His chest is heaving from watching you, brows pulled together, eyes dark as they rake over you hungrily, muscles flexing as his hand disappears between your legs.

His leg slips beneath your knee and pulls your leg up to finger you in a different angle and your nails bury themselves in the muscles of Bucky’s neck, abdomen flexing at the wave of pleasure that courses through you. “More. Oh my God, more!”

“I know, I can feel it,” he grunts and slows his fingers. “But I’ve waited ages for this. I refuse to let it be over so soon.”

Your brain is nothing but cinders and you shake your head violently, “No! No, please. You can have everything, just let me come. Please.”

Bucky pecks your lips. Once. Twice.

“You want to come all over my hand, pretty girl?” he murmurs in your ear and you can only gasp at the press of his fingers against your spot. “Can I lick you up after?”

You clench around him like a vice, his low voice making you drip onto his palm, his words incinerating what is left of your pride. You can only nod, so you do. And his hand starts moving again. Faster, deeper, more thorough. You keep nodding, your moans raising, your pleasure retreating like a snake ready to strike. Oh God, oh God, oh God–

“Come.”

Your hips fly to the ceiling when you come, thighs trembling and closing around his hand. Bucky keeps moving and thrusting and curling until he has wrung all of your pleasure from your body and you feel like you’re made of jelly. Your voice is hoarse from yelling your release and the sheets below are drenched with your desire.

Soft kisses are pressed to your face and that is how you return from whatever plane of existence you went to. His gentle laugh makes you shiver and you open your eyes to find him licking his fingers like there is caramel dripping from them. You swallow hard and zero in on that action, making his eyes sparkle.

But something changes when you reach up to stroke his hair and his eyes flutter. Your eyes rove over his face in admiration and your entire soul sighs at the sight of him. Bucky looks down at you curiously and cocks his head.

“What is it?” he asks and you chew your lip, trying to find the words.

“You and me, huh?” you murmur with something like wonder in your voice. Bucky can only nod. You continue, “Who would’ve thought…”

Bucky leans down and kisses you. Soft, slow, deep. It makes your body sing. And he shuffles back to make himself at home between your legs. Though as he does that, he remains his focus on kissing you. Deeper, more, desperate. Depraved. He moans and breathes and you swear you hear him whimper, his hips grinding over your oversensitive cunt as he gets lost in kissing you.

Raking your nails over his scalp, you once again wrap your legs around his hips and pull him down. And if Bucky hadn’t snapped his leash just yet, this does it. He turns wild and passionate and heavy. One hand of his and one hand of your own both reach down, messily working together to get rid of his jeans. He shimmies out of them, not bothering to get rid of them entirely, but bothering to at least take off his shirt.

Your fingers drag down his pecks and abdomen, trying to memorise every curve and edge with what little brain capacity you have left. You feel like no more than a flame, no more than passion and want and need. And when Bucky slides his bare cock through your folds to slicken himself, you shudder so violently, your breath shudders with it.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” he breathes and nips at your lips.

You almost growl with impatience, “Then fuck me and die already.”

He laughs, bold and happy, before thrusting into you in a long stroke. Home. Oh fuck, he’s home. Both of you freeze, taking in the moment of being fused together before he slowly pulls out and out and out. And sliding back in with an agonizing thrust.

Something in you clicks. Something so vital, so necessary. And Bucky feels it too.

“Yes,” he groans and presses another kiss to your lips, like he can’t get enough. “This is it.”

You nod and close your eyes in pleasure. In relief. You shudder with emotion and clamp onto him. Bucky keeps pressing kisses to your skin. Your neck, your lips, your cheek, temple, forehead.

“This is it,” you choke out and Bucky smiles. “You’re it.”

Bucky breathes a sigh, as if he’s been waiting ages for you to admit it. “Finally.”

Infinity War.

Biting your lip and bouncing your leg, you try to let the rumble of the swift jet calm your nerves. Your eyes search the cabin and go over the confusing screens for the thousandth time.

“Nervous?” Natasha’s sensual voice sounds next to you and you force a smile.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask and smirk at her. “We’re only stepping into a war with the probability of us winning being like…” Zero? Less than zero? You sigh, “I don’t want to think about that.”

She bites back her own smirk and raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t talking about the war. Are you nervous about seeing him?”

Bucky.

You glare at her after quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard her, making Natasha try even harder to hold back a smile.

Yes, you were nervous to see him. So much had happened. So many aspects of your spy work had suddenly intermingled and now you are fighting along with the Avengers. Even after you were sure they had torn themselves apart over Bucky. Being caught in the middle of that had put you and Bucky’s relationship –if you could even call it that– so far to the back of both your minds, you barely had time to mention it to anyone until Steve shipped him off to Wakanda to get some real help.

You and Bucky were over before it even started and you think that maybe it’s for the better. Neither you nor Bucky are any good at that relationship shit anyway. It showed over and over.

Luckily enough, you’d found plenty of distraction being on the run with Sam, Natasha and Steve. No Bucky in sight, but knowing he was safe and taken care of. Private mission after mission with other people you cared about, people who didn’t know about you and Bucky, one of them eager to forget about Bucky himself.

You barely gave it any thought.

Except you thought of Bucky every day.

And now you get to see him again. However, if any time would make you reconsider any commitment at all, it would be now.

“No,” you answer and then turn serious. “I mean, I was. But now I’m just preparing myself for either grief, or death.”

“Are those our only options?” she asks with a displeased frown. “Why not prepare for victory or somethin’?”

Giving her a long and hard stare, you sigh deeply. “Yeah. You’re right. If I die, I might as well die hopeful.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins and you bump her shoulder with yours, finding your own smile breaking through.

That’s when Steve gives Sam the coordinates to fly through a barrier and show you the hidden – and beautiful – kingdom of Wakanda. So you ignore every jittery feeling you have in your stomach at possibly seeing Barnes again, and you channel it all into hope.

…

Natasha strokes her hand over your shoulder as you walk up to king T’Challa, who’s flanked by his closest guard and a palace that screams to get you on your knees to worship. You barely hear the conversation the king has with Steve, partly because you’re still in awe of the beautiful place around you.

Now this, this is a refuge.

“How are we lookin’?” Natasha asks from next to you and that’s when you start to pay attention. You’d need a hell of a lot of man-power to win this.

“You will have my Kings Guard,” T’Challa starts, “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” finishes a voice that makes your entire system dysregulate. Oh God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard the warm timber of that voice.

You notice your hands have started shaking and clutch them behind your back, squeezing courage out of them to face your past, as Bucky Barnes walks up to hug Captain America.

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky answers with a heart-stopping smile.

“Uh, not bad,” he answers, “for the end of the world.”

They share another warm look before Steve turns to everyone behind him and then to the king, “Should we prepare?”

A few minutes later, you’re following the king inside with all of his closest guards and your own team, which now includes Bucky. Focusing your eyes on everything around you, you barely notice the large hand slipping around your elbow and pulling you into another hallway.

You know better than to scream for help and you use the momentum to swing the person around and pin them to the nearest wall with a knife to their throat. But the air rushes from you when you stand face to face with Bucky.

“There she is,” he grins and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

You back away slowly and look at him like a gaping fish, your insides pounding and swirling and thrashing as your body heats with adrenaline. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“New arm?” you ask him, your voice coming out surprisingly steady, and he glances at the appendage, flexing his hand between your faces.

“Yeah, you like it?” he asks and he almost sounds like a young boy, genuinely interested in what you think of it, of him.

And you calm. Everything inside of you settles and the heat turns to warmth. Your insides seem to melt with relief and you throw your arms around his neck, almost tipping over until Bucky’s arms automatically slide around your waist to pull your pliant body tightly against his. He’s so big and strong and warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughs softly and one hand starts to stroke your hair gently as you huff out a sob into his neck. “Oh, sweet girl. You’ve never been sad to see me before.”

You finally pull back and cup his face as he lets you survey him closely, him grinning widely at the worry in your every feature. You breathe, “You’re good. You’re safe.”

He nods and takes your hands, pressing a kiss to your palm. “So are you,” he whispers and you nod.

“Not for long,” you add, deflated.

He gives you a sad smile. “Now, who would we be if we didn’t go down fighting, hm?”

You smile slightly at that. “Back on the same team.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and the planet stops turning.

“Finally.”

The Blip.

Another knock sounds and you roll your eyes, throwing on a quick cardigan as you hop over to your door. Unusual, for your quiet, lonely evenings to get interrupted like this. You’re ready to cash in what you can only assume is some complaining neighbour or your awful land lord when you open the door and are met with a familiar face that makes your heart squeeze together.

“Steve,” you breathe.

“Hey.”

You step aside to let him in and take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” you ask as you close the door behind him and let him venture into your home. Or, whatever you have tried to turn into your home. It had never been more than the latest home trends and some empty picture frames.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I found you?” he asks and you get a feeling of déjà vu.

But you shake your head with a forced smile, “I left a trace for Natasha to track for emergencies. I know how you found me.” You give him a pointed look and Steve actually has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

That look tells you enough about how much of an emergency this is and you wonder what prompted Natasha to decipher your code and hand your location to the Captain. Maybe he was the one breaking and could use a familiar face. Maybe something turned him awfully worried about you. Maybe-

No.

“Aren’t you mad that Natasha told me?” he asks unsurely and you give him a tight-lipped smile, taking a seat in one of your dining table chairs and ushering for him to do so as well.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s actually quite nice to see a familiar face after five pretty lonely years?” you refute and he gives you a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you, too, Kid.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two and you fidget with your hands, staring at them intently before raising your face back to Steve. “Why are you here, Cap?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ever since the Blip,” he starts and you can feel him debating whether to continue, “I never– I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about Bucky.”

You freeze and slowly turn your gaze to him. “Okay. Now I am pissed at her.”

“Natasha didn’t tell me,” he quickly assures and you raise a brow at him. “He did.”

You fall quiet at that. “Bucky told you about…”

“What,” he laughs. “Didn’t think you two were serious enough for him to tell his best friend about it?”

You reply with a humourless laugh of your own. “He um– He wasn’t a very committing guy. And I don’t blame him. Why commit to something if you might lose everything all over again?”

The pity in Steve’s gaze feels burning to your skin. “Well, if you’re that scared of losing something, it might be worth committing to,” he says and you find yourself agreeing with the wise bastard.

“Well, I committed and look where I am now,” you huff. “Turns out, he was right all along.”

“Kid–”

“Why are you here, Cap?” you try again, all of a sudden too eager to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to answer and dread settles low in your belly. When he starts talking, you’ve already started shaking your head. “We have found a way to bring them all back.”

You still. And you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe another five years have passed.

“Did you hear what I said?” he tries.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We figured out a way. Time travel.”

You bark a laugh and give him a pointed glare. However, your vision is already slightly impaired by the tears pooling at your waterline. “Don’t,” you stop him before he continues elaborating. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this in the past five years? That you, or Nat, or even Tony fucking Stark himself would stand at my door and tell me we figured it out? About a million times, Cap. And the more normal this delusional scenario became in my head, the more absurd it seemed to be. And now, you expect me to just believe that nearly five years on the dot, you have figured out a way to return everything to normal?!”

Steve can take it, the sudden outburst of your disbelief. He has definitely encountered a whole lot more scepticism in his life. But his heart breaks a little for you. Bucky had tried to be so casual when he finally told Steve about you, but Steve had caught the sparkle in those hundred-year-old eyes and he couldn’t describe the relief of Bucky having found someone, let alone you.

But now, to see you so far removed from Bucky – from hope. He hates it.

“I waited,” he almost whispers. “Until I was completely sure. We need you for this.”

You blink away your tears and one rolls down your cheek. Steve quickly reaches to catch it and cups your face. A touch normally so very unwelcome, but now you cannot help but bury your face in his palm.

“You’re sure?” you ask, voice breaking.

Steve pulls you in and up to his chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Time to bring our best friend back, Kid.”

Time Travel.

You cannot help but smile when you see the handsome brainiac hunched over a laptop near some high-tech stage that you can’t seem to look at too long without talking yourself out of this.

“Hey, Tony,” you say quietly as you walk up and his brown eyes light up when he hears your voice. Stepping away from the screen, he opens his arms wide and pulls you into a tight hug. Another comfortable embrace that you can only breathe in and cherish.

“My favourite spy,” he murmurs and pulls back.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

He gives you a knowing look. “Oh, you know. Good. Until he showed up,” he sneers with a pointed look at Steve, who simply rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he has a way of interrupting peace.”

Tony snorts. “Now that, is what I call a paradox.”

You laugh and pat his shoulder, “Pepper and Morgan?”

“They’re wonderful.” He grins, but you can see the fear shining in his eyes and you give his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this, Tony.”

He smirks in answer. “I swear, if you and Barnes don’t openly kiss after all I am about to sacrifice, I will find the stones and undo both of your existences.”

You shoot a thunderous glare to Steve, and to Natasha who is walking up behind the Captain. But Tony stops you before you can scold them on their horrible secret-keeping skills, “Pepper told me.”

You grit your teeth.

The Avengers are a bunch of gossips.

The Endgame.

You stumble backward, your sprained ankle and broken ribs somehow only a faint ache over the sight before you. You almost trip over debris, or a body, or just air and you keep blinking to see better or to make it all go away, you don’t know.

He did it. Tony did it. You’re sure you can still feel the snap of his fingers vibrate through your spine. And there he is. Slumped against more debris, half of his face cracked like burnt coal, his suit barely reflecting its original colours. The blue light at the centre of his chest is fading, shuttering and then… it goes dark. With Pepper’s hand over it.

Your own hand barely muffles the sob trying to break through and you stumble over and over again as you back away from that horrible, awful reality. He did it. But at what cost?

You turn around and start jogging. How? You’re not sure. Your body is in no state to hurry. But it’s incomplete. You were barely strong or extraordinary enough to be of any help during the fight, but you tried your best. Helping people in the field, some war medic patching up gushing wounds. You’d cashed some punches and kicks yourself. Dealt them, too.

It was all because you needed to be there. Because you needed to stay alive. Needed to stick around to see him again. And now… Now… You barely survived this, barely made it through. And Tony died. Tony Stark. The chance of him still being out there-

You start running faster. Hobbling and grunting from the pain.

“Bucky,” you voice is raw and frantic, it’s barely a sound as you cry out for him. “Bucky! Bucky!”

Head swinging from side to side, you hope the soldier reveals himself from behind one of the plumes of smoke. Further and further away, you flee from the horrifying scene of whatever is left after Thanos. You need to find him, but you can’t identify anything on this war ground.

If he’s dead. If Bucky is dead–

Your head whips around so fast, your neck might crack, when you’re sure you hear your name. Everything about you goes quiet and you hold your breath like it will make any difference. Slowly, you walk in the direction where you assume the sound came from, but you almost cringe at the idea that you might just be going insane. After all those explosions, your hearing can’t possibly be this sharp.

Though perhaps intuition is at play here, because you’ve always been able to feel him. Always knew it when it was him waiting up for you, or looking for you, or needing you.

“Bucky,” you croak again.

“Here…” It’s so quiet. But you hear it over everything else and follow the echo of the sound.

“Bucky,” you rasp out. “I’m coming!”

And there he is. On hands and knees, struggling to get up. You can only describe your approach as a dive, as you clash onto your wobbly knees and wrap your arms around him. His body instantly stops struggling and falls into your rib cage.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

“Yeah,” he groans. “’M right here.”

You had no idea you were sobbing it to him, but you don’t care as your hands grapple for a better hold of him. He does the same until both of you are kneeling in front of each other, cupping each others’ faces to check for injuries.

“You look pretty all roughed up,” he mutters and you smile through your tears.

“You look awful,” you reply and he chuckles before pulling you into his chest. “But you’re home.”

He shudders and you might actually hear him let out a sob of his own as he tightens his grip on you.

“Finally.”

#SLOW BURNNNN #I looove their dynamic okay #lots of dialogue which we all love #some action and fluff and passion adn efgedksbf i love them ok?!#PLease tell me what you think and if this is maybe too long...#it's a bit intimidating i get that but it's an easy read i promise #ok i love you guys #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #writing #bucky barnes fluff

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takenbypeter · 1 year

Text

Anything to Make Him Smile

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 723

Number 24: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

Part 2 - Anything To Make You Smile

Bucky Barnes.

Practically the most stoic man you’ve ever met.

You’ve only interacted with him a few times, with you being new to the workplace and all but whenever you caught sight of him, he was frowning.

You offered him a smile each time you saw him passing in the hallways but with each time he’d just move his eyebrows slightly in acknowledgment.

The only time you’ve ever seen Bucky Barnes smile was when he was with Sam. And it wasn’t just a smile, it was almost full on laughter when those two got together.

That’s actually what first got you curious in the first place.

The first time you saw his smile you couldn’t believe it. You honestly didn’t even know it was possible that he could make that expression.

His wide toothed smile was charming yet authentic and since catching sight of it you made it a goal to try to make him smile just once. It was honestly stupid but yeah it was a goal of yours. You didn’t try too hard though, not wanting to push it or be weird about the whole situation. You’ve given him genuine compliments, tried small talk, brought him breakfast, honestly it may have been a little much but he never really cracked for you. And then it hit you, what if he just didn’t like you.

I mean you wouldn’t hold it past him, but you’ve really never given him reason to dislike you. After some more thinking you’ve realized that all the small talk, all the compliments you’ve given, what if you’re just the creepy coworker to him. And with that thought you made the decision to back off not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You thought your lack of presence would be unnoticed. But what you didn’t know was Bucky actually found your presence appealing. At first it was annoying the way you seemed to always want to talk to him but after the first few times it became less irritating and more comforting. Most people were intimidated by him but you, you went out of your way to look for him. So when you stopped he of course noticed. He wasn’t going to say anything but he noticed.

Well this particular morning you were by the coffee machine chatting with Sam when Bucky strode up to the machine making himself a cup. Was he eavesdropping on the conversation? Maybe.

You were in the middle of the story enthusiastically running it by Sam as he sipped his morning coffee, enthralled by your tale.

Bucky listened as you told your story, and as you deliver the ending, he can’t help but feel the corners of his lips tug upwards as he stands in his little corner. Its not like the line was even funny, it’s how you delivered it and how excited you were that really got him.

Bucky thought nothing of the moment but he heard you stop. Curious he turned his head and saw you looking at him, surprise written on your face. Confused, he waited before you pointed with a grin, “have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

James’ smile dropped a little surprised by your sudden comment towards him, “you did! I totally just got you to smile! God do you know how long I’ve been trying to get this guy to crack for me? You make it look so easy,” you added, directing that towards Sam who’s clearly entertained by the events that were unfolding in front of him.

“You’ve been trying to make me…smile?” He asked, confirming if he heard you correctly.

“Yesss,” you held out the last consonant clearly excited, “and I finally did it, without even trying in the moment.”

Bucky stared at you like you had two heads, before grabbing a bagel from the common table, “yeah okay,” he said, taking a bite and walking away.

Sam just hit your shoulder gaining your attention, “don’t worry, he’ll come around, it took me years with that guy.”

His words gave you some comfort at least as you grabbed your mug and nodded at his words before taking a big sip of your drink.

Bucky definitely thought you were weird now but who cares?

You got him to crack and that’s all that mattered. Baby steps.

Dialogue Prompts

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valleyfae · 9 months

Note

thinking about mean!stepbrother bucky manhandling you until your shivering under his touch 🎀☹️

Some visuals because he is just so (I haven't really been able to get myself to answer asks and stuff, so I'm sorry) dialogue masterlist

Bucky’s demeanor morphs into an increasingly angered grimace, subconsciously provoking his pent-up agitation with your sheepish sniffles and frail writhes.

Slap.

Bucky strikes across your cheek as a disgruntled snarl slips past his lips, terminating your pleading cries and leaving you frozen in fright.

"Please... B-Bucky, please."

Despite Bucky's unsatisfied scowl, his eyes have a dark glimmer shining down on you, cocky and smug. He tenderly strokes your quivering bottom lip with the hand he slapped you with. Your once struggling limbs are now back to being indefinitely fragile and docile. You have gone entirely lax — fearfully pliant and resistless.

Your head too fuzzy to comprehend Bucky guiding your shaking hand to the jutting bulge straining against his pants. “You see what you’ve done to me? Fucking hell...” Bucky groans, freeing your wrist.

The clanking of his belt buckle startles you out of your rigid panic. You open your mouth only to let out a pitiful cower from where you are caged under his towering frame.

Bucky spits, “Dumb little girl.”

Unzipping his jeans and fluidly pulling his belt out from the loops, Bucky smiles when you flinch at the sound of the metal buckle hitting the hardwood floor.

“Poor thing,” Bucky mocks. “Now be a good girl and listen to your fucking stepbrother.

#dark.fran #fran’s dialogues #cw stepcest #stepbrother!bucky barnes #stepbro!bucky barnes #mean!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #dark!bucky

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apollosouls-blog · 4 months

Text

Y/n: HELP! I TOLD STEVE I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Bucky , pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

#avengers dialogue #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers #marvel incorrect quotes

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whorefordean · 11 months

Text

hurt/comfort prompts

1. “let me help you.”

2. “it’s not gonna hurt forever.”

3. “tell me where it hurts.”

4. “please. i need your help.”

5. “will you stay with me? please.”

6. “i just wanna hold you.”

7. “it was just a nightmare. you’re okay.”

8. “i’m here. i’m always right here.”

9. “i feel safe with you.” “then i’ll stay right here with you.”

10. “it’s okay to cry. i’ll be here to wipe your tears.”

11. “you can talk to me.”

12. “i’m gonna keep you safe.”

13. “i won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

14. “you deserve so much better than the hand you were dealt.”

15. “can i listen to your heartbeat? it’s calming.”

16. “don’t look at it. just let me stitch you up.”

17. “i’m just so sad.” “what can i do?” “just be here.”

18. “you have to calm down. just breathe for me.”

19. “you don’t have to keep hiding your pain.”

20. “let’s go for a drive.”

21. “i know it hurts.”

22. “can i hug you?”

23. “there’s no shame in crying. i’ll cry too if you want.”

24. “i didn’t mean to disappoint you.” “you could never.”

25. “ i didn’t mean to fall asleep.” “it’s okay. you needed it, and you looked too peaceful for me to wake you up.”

#dean winchester #jj maybank #supernatural #outer banks #spn #bucky barnes #dean winchester x reader #steve rogers #jj maybank x reader #sam winchester #dialogue prompt #writing prompts #prompt list #hurt/comfort #hurt comfort #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester comfort

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greenbergwrites · 1 month

Note

Steve - I'm not jealous (he totally is) and please

Once upon a time (in 2017), I reblogged that dialogue prompt post for the first time and someone asked for this prompt + Steve meeting Bucky's ex. I started it and never finished it.

MOST of this is from that original post and I just tacked on the ending, finally. Enjoy~

Also, I sort of changed the prompted dialogue a bit? It's along the same vein, just not 100% the same.

Her name was Ilaria and she was beautiful.

Steve first saw her in glimpses through a crowded street. Bucky hadn’t shown him a picture–hadn’t even described her, beyond mentioning that she was Italian and they’d met because their fathers were business partners once upon a time–but he just knew.

The woman standing outside the restaurant couldn’t be anyone other than Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. She was a tall, full figured woman in sleek heels and a slinking, off-the shoulder dress that hugged her ample curves in all the right places. Unblemished, tawny skin and dark hair coiffed to perfection, she wore gloves as dark as her dress on slender hands and diamond jewelry that would’ve looked gaudy on anyone else but on her, it was elegance itself.

She looked like a model on her way to a gala rather than a woman waiting to have dinner with her ex and his new beau.

The look of cool sophistication so artfully arranging her face melted away the moment she spotted them. Her smoky eyes lit up, a genuine smile stretching blood red lips.

“Oh, cuore mio, there you are,” she said, holding out her hands.

Bucky smiled back at her, taking her hands his own and holding them to his chest. The look he gave her was full of warmth and fondness.

“I haven’t been your cuore in a long time, I’m afraid,” he said, bringing her hands up to kiss her gloved knuckles. “I belong to someone else now.”

Steve had been watching the exchange with a growing sense of unease. He wasn’t prepared to have this woman’s gaze on him, but suddenly, he was the center of her attention.

“Ilaria,” Bucky said, “this is my sweetheart, Steve. Steve, this is Ilaria.”

“Um.” He pasted on a smile that he didn’t truly feel. “Hi? It’s nice to meet you.”

Ilaria turned down his offer of a handshake, pushing it away with a scoff and instead hugging him. It should’ve felt stilted and awkward, but it wasn’t.

“Steve,” she said, a light accent lilting her words. “I have heard so much about you, it is so good to finally meet you!”

She pulled away, but didn’t let go, holding him by the shoulders as he appraised him.

“You are gorgeous,” she said, cupping his cheeks. “My, such an angioletto!”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. He felt anything but when standing next to someone like her.

“Look at this blush.” She touched his cheek, smiling. “I could just eat you. Are you sure you want to be with a grump like James, angioletto? I would bring you home immediately.”

He’s not a grump, Steve wanted to say, but before he could, a big, warm hand pressed into his lower back.

“I’m afraid not,” Bucky interjected, tucking Steve close to him. “This one’s mine.”

Steve melted into the embrace, his entire body warming at the words. He couldn’t stop himself from turning a shy, pleased smile up at Bucky.

She watched it all, a sweet, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“Yes,” she said. “I can see that.”

In Steve’s eyes, she was perfect.

It didn’t escape his notice that she was also different from him in every way imaginable.

Dinner was enjoyable. The food was good and there was never a lull in conversation; Ilaria made sure of that. She talked to Steve more than she talked to Bucky, making sure that he never felt left out or excluded. For every story told about her time with Bucky, she asked Steve for one of his own.

It was a careful balance and one maintained solely out of respect for him. He appreciated that, even if this attentiveness made her even more perfect to him. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like about her and that made his stomach clench.

He felt clumsy, uninteresting, unworthy in comparison.

How could he ever hope to compete for Bucky’s attention, his affection, against her if she decided to take it back?

But she didn’t. She laughed and talked and although she touched Bucky more than once, her touches never lingered. In fact, she pulled her hand away a little quicker each time, as if realizing what she’d done. Her gaze always went to Steve to make sure he wasn’t upset.

At the end of the night, she hugged Steve again and kissed his cheek, laughing at Bucky’s huff.

“Stop it,” she admonished. “There’s nothing I could do to persuade him into my bed and we both know it.”

But then she did the most surprising thing of all. She turned to Steve, her expression serious.

“I would like to say goodbye to him as I did with you,” she said, gesturing to the spot where she kissed Steve. “May I?”

Steve meant to say yes. But he saw it in his mind’s eye, their embrace. Bucky’s hands on her full hips and her soft lips against his cheek, leaving the memory of them behind in a red imprint. The private smile they’d share, the way they’d look at each other as they remembered their shared history.

It was all a figment of his imagination, but it was a figment that left him feeling sick.

“No,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, the surprise showing on his face, but not Ilaria.

Ilaria just smiled knowingly.

“Smart boy,” she said, tapping his nose. “Protect what’s yours.”

The car ride home was quiet. Bucky waited until they were alone and in their bedroom to gather Steve close.

“I’m going to ask you something,” he said, trailing fingers along Steve’s spine. “And I want you to be honest with me.”

Steve nodded.

“Were you jealous of Ilaria?”

Steve bit his lip.

“No,” he said haltingly. “Not–not jealous.”

He didn’t think that was the right word, at least, even if the right word evaded him.

“Then what?”

His gaze dropped to where his hands rested on Bucky’s chest.

“Was it–was it better with her? Were you…happier?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate, but it wasn’t dismissive. That one word held a weight that said not only was Bucky taking the question seriously, he was answering with the same gravity that Steve had asked the question.

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky repeated. He cupped the back of Steve’s head, bringing him forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Never.”

He kissed Steve again, before pulling back to look him in the face.

“You have to understand, Ilaria and I were kids when we met,” he said. “And we were barely out of our teens when we dated. But by then, we had both figured out that we liked certain things in the bedroom, and our tastes were too similar to be compatible with each other. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd love to take you home."

He smiled, playfully nipping at Steve's jaw.

"You," he said, "are catnip for the right kind of person."

Steve blushed for the millionth time that night, but this time didn't feel like a failing. He petted the lapel of Bucky's jacket.

"What happened? Between you two?"

Bucky shrugged.

"We tried it for a few months and then decided we were going to ruin a perfectly good friendship if we kept going. Neither of us wanted that, so we broke up. She was never going to be my forever. And she wasn’t ‘the one that got away,’ if that’s what you’re thinking, either.”

Steve hesitated, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Is there a one that got away?”

Bucky gave him a look.

“Not unless you plan on running away from me any time soon."

He leaned down, kissing Steve so tenderly that it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“You are my forever,” he murmured. “You're the only one I've ever thought about that way. The only one I've ever loved like this."

Their lips brushed in another aching kiss.

"God, I love you, sweetheart. I love you in ways I didn’t think were possible. I need you in ways I didn’t know I could. No one compares to you, not even a little. I don’t want you ever worrying about that.”

“I–I don’t,” Steve whispered breathlessly. He really didn’t, not usually. It was just– “She’s just so perfect.”

Bucky laughed lowly.

“I have the stories and the pictures to prove otherwise,” he said, nipping at Steve’s lips. “But first…I think my baby needs to be reminded how much he means to me. What do you think?”

Steve shuddered, his head falling back as Bucky sucked at his throat.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

“Mmmm, that’s what I thought.”

Bucky bent, hoisting Steve into his arms.

“C’mon, gorgeous, let’s go to bed.”

#nani asks #greenberg replies #dialogue prompts #criminal bucky barnes #bucky's ex ilaria #if the italian endearments are off that's on me it was like a 2 minute google search

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vrittivsanghavi · 2 years

Text

Angst Prompt List

"It wasn't your fault."

"Why didn't you say h-how bad it was?"

"Please just let me go. It would be better for both of us"

" I should have stayed at my home only"

"I don't belong here."

"Maybe opening up to you was a mistake after all."

"Get Out."

"You broke the only gift I had of my dead mother!"

"You're so fucking clingy!"

"But baby, don't you love me?"

"You fucking hate me"

"I agree all that glitters is not gold"

"Hell even I hate myself"

"I think I am gonna pass out-"

“You hurt me when I trusted you!”

“Stop pushing everyone away!”

“I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

“There’s nothing you can bloody do!”

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

"You are such a manipulative bitch"

"All you care about is yourself!"

"I fucking lost my child due to my carelessness."

"Why is your face red and swollen then?"

"I'm sorry"

"I wanna know how many times you needed me and I wasn't there."

"Why do you always put me before you own self?"

"Am I not enough?"

"Crazy how the strongest bonds break over weakest shits"

"I was just a game to you"

"What...is this?"

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navybrat817 · 2 months

Note

Thank you for joining the challenge! Your trope and dialogue prompt are below:

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

Let me know if you want a different or another prompt!

This trope and this dialogue, Suz?

Love and thanks for letting me submit Just Like That for your challenge. ❤️

Lovelies, check out this amazing masterlist for Suz's Blind Date Writing Challenge. ❤️

#navybrat answers #bucky barnes #only one bed #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #writing challenge #targaryenvampireslayer #sending love ❤️#asks are always appreciated

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takenbypeter · 1 year

Text

First Impressions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 540

Number 8: “She’s so pretty it makes me want to punch myself.”

The question came out of nowhere like a left hook, though to be fair Bucky probably would’ve been more prepared, with a left hook.

“What was the first thought you had when you first saw me?”

You and Bucky had gone through a lot together, both before and also during your relationship. Being with them and for so long you knew that certain conversations weren’t always easy for Bucky whether it be because he couldn’t find the right words, or because he’s still getting used to letting people in after all those years. But, despite what it may have seemed to others, Bucky actually enjoyed those conversations. It was a special talk shared between only the two of you. But like always he was never prepared.

You wait patiently, the seconds going by. With each tick that passed on the clock, Bucky could feel himself overthinking the question and you could tell too.

“I know you don’t always particularly enjoy these conversations, and I’m not trying to hear a cute answer, I want you to honestly tell me, what was the first thing that you thought when you saw me?”

Buck’s cheeks tug a little, proving him to remember something as he thought about that first time, but his head shook from side to side as he made an expression one could only call bashful.

“Here, I’ll go first,” you’re already grinning like a kid who has candy hidden somewhere in their room. “I remember the first time I saw you, you were making that stoic expression that you do, the one where your eyebrow creases in the middle, and I just remember thinking, ‘wow, that is one handsome guy,’ and I immediately thought you were the most attractive man I have ever laid eyes on.”

If only you could turn a mental image into an actual photo, because then you could always get to look at the expression he was making as he shook his head in absolute embarrassment, but you continued. “And then I met you and you ruined it by being a dick. But then I learned you had a tiny good reason to being a dick but that didn’t change how good looking you were. And then you calmed down and we got closer and I’m grateful that we did,” you say, pressing your mouth against the scratchy stubble that outlined his cheek.

“Okay I told you my silly version, now what about yours?”

Grin still present on his lips he rolled his eyes before letting out a little breath. “When I first met you I didn’t think anything. You were a short moment in my life and I honestly didn’t care if I ever saw you again,” he paused while you gave him a winced smile, “ouch, little harsh.”

“But then I saw you again. And again and then the thought came to mind that you’re so pretty it made me want to punch myself. And I remember being so terrified of that thought,” Bucky paused again feeling the soft contact of your hand resting against his hand.

“But now I’m not so terrified.”

“Buck you are too precious, do you know that?”

There it was again, that precious smile that you loved so much.

Dialogue Prompts

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #dialogue prompts

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valleyfae · 1 year

Note

Okay so I’ve never seen you write something like this, but reader and Bucky are both divorced (they don’t know each other), and Bucky’s friend lives in the same apartment building as you and you bump into each other one night after you have a bad date

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✴︎ 𝐒. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Paring: divorced!Bucky Barnes x divorced!reader

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY MDNI, you already know the intensity of Bucky’s pussy eating skills and his dirty talk game

“Shit—” you mutter under your breath, continuing to let out frustrated curses as you bend down to your purse, your stuff scattered across the lobby floor.

One hand running over his beard, Bucky steps past the elevator doors, eyes immediately drawn to you, stressed, hastily collecting your things.

“Oh, it’s okay, I g- I got it,” your face heats up, swallowing your pride as the man shakes his head, pink lips morphing into a soft smile.

He lets out a soft grunt, pushing himself off his knee, eyes fixed on your black dress until he’s back on his feet.

Gently placing your handbag in your clammy palm, Bucky’s long, dexterous fingers skim your skin sending goosebumps up your spine. “Don’t worry about it,” he nods, his alluring smirk intriguing.

Stressfully massaging your temples, you look up at him—the look in his clear blue eyes piercing as he holds himself back from his instincts that are telling him to pull you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just.”

“Bad date?” Bucky asks, worry line prominent. He lets out a huff, watching as you follow your sniffle with a nod. “Trust me. I get it.”

Slightly shocked by Bucky’s response, your heart rate jumps. “You’re not married?” You quickly try and brush off your tears of annoyance and frustration, flattening down any wrinkles in your dress.

“Not anymore.” His chuckles sarcastic as he scratches his beard. “You know how it is, start off in love, get married before you really know each other, shit goes sideways, and all of a sudden, you’re spending your Sunday nights drinking beer on your best friend’s couch like you’re 25 again.”

“Well, you look really nice.”

Letting out another huff, Bucky smiles. The look in his look genuine, taking in a compliment that felt sincere even if it was out of pity.

“And it looks like you haven’t given up yet, a woman who knows what she wants.”

Reciprocating his natural grin, the exhaustion in his eyes evident. “You caught me on a special night that could’ve gone a lot better.”

An awkward silence falls over the two over you. Thoughts synchronized—Bucky rocks onto the back of his heels, words stuck in his throat, not wanting to overstep you play with the hem of your dress, looking down. You flatten the black fabric, snapping out of your fantasyland as Bucky clears his throat, “Well if ever need anything or wanna talk, I’m here.”

Heart rate quickening, you try your best to maintain eye contact. “Thanks,” you mutter, lost in the lust Bucky emits.

“I can give you my number if that’s alright with you?”

“Oh yeah, sure, let me just,” heartbeat now rapid, you fish your phone out from the bottom of your bag. “Here you go.”

Bucky’s confidence shines through his demeanor, reassuring you’re flustered by his charm and not uncomfortable.

You take your phone in your hand; his nimble fingers delicately skim your skin. “Have a nice night…” glancing down at your phone, you smile, “Bucky.”

“Have a nice night, sweetheart.”

One week later…

“Oh— fuck…” you groan; hands have gone tense as Bucky hits your perfect spot with his fingers—lathered with your slick, he wraps his plush lips around your clit, tongue playing with the pulsating bundle of nerves he carefully sucks.

Continuing to work his fingers past your entrance, he grins, moving down to your folds. His coarse beard grazes your flesh, provoking a string of throaty curses.

“Finally getting treated like a woman deserves,” Bucky looks up at you, lustful eyes admiring your heaving chest as he places a soft peck on your clit. “Sweet pussy too good to not be taken care of.”

“Uhmm,” you let out an unapologetic groan, instinctively rolling your hips—muscles contracting as he curls his fingers, continuously hitting the perfect spot.

The foreign feeling of intensifying euphoria rushes over you—the sensation of Bucky’s fingers diving in and out of you, his tongue still working on your pulsating mound. Your mind whirls with the fogginess that instantaneously jolts your muscles, forcing you to arch your back off his ruffled sheets.

“Yes, Bucky, p-please,” you plea. “Please, Bucky— I can’t. Feels s-so good.”

Anticipating your climax, the rough pads of his fingers glide right back to where you need him most. “Won’t even have to use your vibrator to go to sleep like you’re used to,” he grunts.

You roll your eyes at his snarky comment but can’t ignore how close you are. “Bu-Bucky, I can’t— I can’t hold it.”

“Cum for me, sweets. Go on, make a mess.”

Rant endnote:

Sorry this is not proofread or good but 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Me confused why I can’t finish my WIPs but then go on write whatever this is after telling myself I was just going to respond with “OMGG YESSSS!!!! SO DILF DADDY SLAY!!”

And yes, I didn’t finish writing this at Shabbat dinner and left after an hour… I’ve had a tummy ache all week. Don’t look at me.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I want to say thank you for all of your sweet messages on my form. They all mean a lot to me, and I wish there was a way for me to respond. I hope you guys enjoyed the fic. Sending my love <3

@nats-whore @floral-recs @spideysloverera @hannahmarie57 @magilicutty69 @charmed-asylum @balekanemohafe @mogaruke @hallecarey1 @h4rpss @harrysthiccthighss @hawsx3 @buckysboobs @awaywithtime @bluevxnus @mythicbitchx @peaceinourtime82 @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @freakyevanss @recut-mo @evanstanwhore @tenpointsforbucky @suchababie @corruptedcoffin @raajali3 @daddyreid @noorreads

@thecavernalmistress96 @buckybarnesandmarvel @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thrxshsxbbxth @sgt-tasm @crispysublimecupcake @lonesomewitchking @rach2602 @mandiiblanche @peakwak @antisocialwritingx @phildunphyisadilf @sunflowerfive @justreadingficsdontmindme @mysweetlittledesire @tom-holland-parker @purplecreatortragedy @stuckytown @milanaasblog @amelia-song-pond @greengarsstuff @kellhems @aerangi @pandaxnienke @sebastiansluts @lechaircharles @alina02 @traumbruch @winterslove1917@vase-of-lilies @spideysimpossiblegirl @buchanansbaby @lovelyy-moonlight @deaniu

#fran’s dialogues #divorced!bucky barnes #divorced!bucky barnes x divorced!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader

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illicien · 10 months

Text

Not from anything, my brain just got stuck on them groping around in tight quarters in the dark and...

"I think I've found-" "That's not a gun, Zemo." "… surely you aren't going to tell me that's your-" "Yes that's my dick, do you mind??" (quiet Sokovian curses)

#WinterBaron #Random dialogue #Free to a good home #Zemo #Bucky Barnes

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gagmebucky · 2 years

Note

Hiii um are you planning on writing a part two to the best friend!Bucky x shy!reader fic in your main masterlist? I'm a huge fan of your fics btw you're a literal genius and ilysm

you know what, ive gotten this request a lot, and i thought i wasn’t but YES! idk where the inspiration came from, but there shall be a part two to this fic:

in which there’s nowhere to sit and bucky offers his lap—then, subsequently, his cock. (bad boy!bucky x shy!reader, dirty talk, exhibitionism and voyeurism, cockwarming, unprotected sex.)

and thank u for your kind words 🥰🥺🥰🥺 you are a SWEETHEART and ily2

and here’s a lil sneak peek 😈

He grasps your jaw and turns your face to take your lips on his own. Your mouth drops open and immediately accepts his tongue gliding over yours. Somewhere in your mind, you can’t believe you’re french kissing a man you just became acquainted with, classmates surrounding you be damned.

“Oh, I shouldn’t be doing this,” you moan as if it’ll snap you out of it, heavy-lidded as your eyes connect with his own.

He nips at your bottom lip. “But you are, and you’re doing so well,” he cooes so sweetly that butterflies flutter inside your stomach. “My obedient lil’ kitty letting me do whatever I want ‘cause you know I’ll give you everything you need. Isn’t that right?”

A shudder wracks your body, and with the last ounce of resistance, you whimper a stubborn, “N - no.”

Which only provokes him into upping his game. His legs hook around your ankles, spreading them wide so your aching center provides him better access. You didn’t think it was possible, but his thick length burrows deeper inside you, nudging a raw patch within your tightening depths that slaps your hands over your mouth again, wanting to cry out so bad.

He chuckles as he watches the desperation possess your features. “You gotta be more convincing than that,” he teases, placing a peck on your hammering pulse before running his lips over your ear. “If that was true, your pretty pussy wouldn’t be creaming around my big cock.”

And like that, you seize up. The vulgarity clenches your inner muscles while ecstasy swallows you whole and sends you writhing with the intensity. He groans low in your ear, his hips bucking up into you, encircling caress never stopping, slowing ever-so-slightly.

“Oh, you liked that,” he breathes, wrapping his free arm around you and holding you still—thank God because lord knows you don’t have any control. “Don’t try to deny it, kitten, I felt you, squeezing ‘round me like you wanna milk the come out of my dick.”

Another whimper escapes you, and your sensitivity revolts against his continued touch. “J - James,” you whine, dropping your muffle, while his hold cinches further. “Please.”

He tries to pull a sympathetic face, but a grin wants to stretch across his lips, thrilled he can elicit such a reaction out of you. “Aw, is someone sensitive?”

You clutch his wrists, knuckles flexing as he moves. The pitiful look on your face convinces him to slow to a stop, but his fingers remain pressurized on your clit. “You are bad,” you say as you take in his dilated pupils and the ravenous gleam in his darkened eyes.

“And you’re good,,” he cooes and kisses your cheek, “you gonna be good for me, hm? Give me what I want because you like this. You want me to keep going. It’s okay, perverse little thing, I’ll treat you real nice.”

#DUDE I can’t believe I got inspo for a pt2 for that fic #i literally woke up in my sleep and wrote some filthy ass dialogue #q answers #bucky x reader #marvel imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you smut #snippets

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