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#bucky barnes fanfic
lavendercitizen · a day ago
𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sugar Daddy!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Years after his divorce, Bucky craves the company and gentle touch of another soul. He never planned on falling for his sugar baby.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, pwp, mutual pining, daddy kink, pet names [pretty baby, baby, bunny, sweet girl, sweetheart, good girl], age gap [reader in her 20s, Bucky in his late 30s], unprotected sex, praise kink, oral [f receiving], crying during sex (bc reader is overwhelmed), sugar daddy relationship - power imbalance.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k
𝐀/𝐍: This is for @bemine-bucky ’s 1k Sweethearts Diner writing challenge, and I ordered the spicy #2 with Sugar Daddy!Bucky Barnes and the pining/longing/yearning trope. The prompt was “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” (Gone with the Wind) I totally did not procrastinate on this until the last day before the deadline and then spent the whole day writing, and my head doesn't hurt at all👀💀 Not beta read, proof read once, I apologize for this mess, but hey I'm still on time😵
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By the time you return home from another gala you're almost ready to call it a day—expensive dresses, a five-course meal with possibly the best mille-feuilles you'd ever tasted, and a venue that stole your breath as you had twirled around, your hand in Bucky's safe and warm one, all of it still vivid in your mind.
Usually he was the first one to collapse in the heavenly comfort of his king size bed, and you love to tease him about it too. The dynamic between you is playful, soft, even loving though you'd never dare label it as that.
However something had changed in you. Recently you've been pushing and pulling, drawing him in with eyes that held a twinkle belonging to the stars more than to a human, touching him with healing hands. Only to recoil, eyes averted, like you've done something forbidden, something only you knew about.
It eats away at him. He doesn't understand why, but the one thing that he can't shake is the thought of you leaving, terminating the contract that binds you to him.
Old insecurities worm their way into his thoughts. There's nothing he could do. If you want to part ways he'd let you. Not because he wants to, but because he doesn't believe he deserves you in the first place.
So as long as he still has you he cherishes you more than he ever could any of his wealth, nothing measures up to you, and he always makes sure you know that.
His dress shirt is flung somewhere behind him, and in the next second his broad frame looms over you. You've been wanting him all day, placing your hand dangerously close to his crotch under the table cloth as dinner had been served, practically hanging off him while he was making his rounds, conversing with other guests. Acquaintances and colleagues; you didn't even bother to at least pretend to look interested, all you cared about was him.
“Please, Bucky,” you whine, impatience getting the best of you, basically enticing you to pull him down by the back of his neck. The brunet complies, lowering himself, his strong arms on either side of your head.
You almost got him where you want him, aching for his soft lips to press against yours—a buzzing feeling between you, a thick silence filled with need and anticipation—but he stops, holds his position just before your noses can touch. He studies you deeply, blue eyes take in your soft features, and the fondness in them tears at your heart.
“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” he says quietly, nudging his nose against yours.
It takes you off guard, pulls you out of your haze for a moment.
Almost in wonder your fingers reach up to trace his lips. Your thumb pushes against his lower lip, curiously, like you're touching him for the first time. He smiles, kisses the tip of your thumb, proceeding to take your hand by the wrist and peppers a few kisses on the inside.
It's far too loving for someone who pays for all your needs, your tuition, your rent, food, clothes, jewellery—whatever you want in exchange for your company and your body.
You knew long ago that you should've ended whatever this is, and at this point you're justified in questioning it, because the lines were blurred— what you have, what you saw when you woke up; his face illuminated by the morning sun shining through the window wall of his bedroom, gazing at you with a softness that you didn't understand. Neither of you address it, but what you have was far beyond a normal arrangement.
And it lingers in you too.
You spend most of your time with him, and it's so easy to get consumed by your senses; soft lips against yours, a shaky exhale through his nose, hands wandering up your arms, chasing the goosebumps that spring up on your skin.
“Bucky,” you try again, small and needy. The silky sheets glide under your writhing body. He greedily takes all he can get, holding onto you like a desperate man, like you're the most precious thing to ever exist. Bucky needs to pretend that this can last forever, and that it means something to you the way it does to him. His brows furrow, nostrils flaring. Big hands tug at your fancy dress and then it rips.
A squeak escapes you from the sheer display of power, before you can even protest about the ridiculously expensive item he so carelessly tore apart he's on you, mouthing at the swell of your breast through the lace bralette with a low moan. Pristinely manicured nails find their way into his brown locks, and you arch your back lightly, choking on your own desperate sounds of pleasure as the tingling feeling intensifies with each suckle of his lips on your soft skin.
“Bucky, Bucky, fuck—” you whine, fingers tighten their grip on his hair to the point where it must be painful, but you can't decide if you want him closer or away from your hardened buds. He lifts his head with a lazy grin, soft, cerulean eyes hold your desperate gaze.
“What's the matter pretty baby? I already got you this excited?”
You can't even be mad at the slightly cocky smirk forming on his face, because it makes you clench around nothing; you groan, and this time you know you want him closer— god, you need him closer. With your brows knitted together, and your soft lips parting to let out shy pleas for him, you're a divine sight, and the older man can't stay away for one more second.
“I know baby, I know,” he coos, his expression matching yours, he's just as needy for you as you are for him. As he kisses his way down your body, your stomach quivers under his gentle caress.
The rest of your torn dress comes off along with your bralette, and Bucky wastes no time; his nimble fingers trace over your clothed core, moving up to push his thumb directly against your bundle of nerves.
A strained moan leaves your parted lips, and your hips buck gingerly.
His lust-filled blue eyes are fixed on you. He leans in, and you lightly tremble when the soft flesh of his lips grazes over your panties. You look right back at him, wide-eyed and dazed, watching almost trance-like as he turns his head to the side to leave a mark on your inner thigh. His beard scratches against your silken skin, eliciting more sweet sounds out of you.
Strong hands clamp down over the top of your thighs, tenderly they move inwards, towards your aching core and back again.
“Bucky,” you whisper. These moments are the ones where you have to hold back the words that could destroy this so quickly. He's so concentrated and you want to believe it—in the four walls of his extravagant home; a lonely one before your arrival, inhabited by the silence she left behind—you want to believe that when Bucky Barnes looks at you, he sees more than just your body.
He drags your panties down, murmuring, “Lift your hips up for me, sweetheart.” and you do, allowing him to remove the damp material.
He hums but doesn't acknowledge you otherwise. His fingers spread your folds, and he purrs, “Look at you bunny, you're so wet for me.”
Leaning forward, he licks at your glistening core teasingly, enjoying the way you twitch and squirm.
His eyes snap back up to yours, the blue in them glaze over with deprivation and his pupils are blown wide.
“Please,” you add quietly, feeling the familiar heat spread through your lower body like embers, sure to be set ablaze by his feverous desire, fueled by his warmth.
Maybe he tasted your need, just as urgent as his or maybe he couldn't wait any longer, but your little whines and pleas are answered when he slowly pushes his index into your greedy pussy, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.
His finger pumps languidly into you. Waves of bliss lap at you, and you feel light-headed, but it wasn't enough. Unable to help yourself you shift your hips, trying to heighten your own pleasure. He knows, of course. A second finger joins your silky walls, his head comes down and his mouth is on your sensitive clit, and you can't contain the loud cry that is elicited at the sudden change of pace.
“F-fuck, oh my god,” you mewl, automatically grabbing a fistful of his beautiful hair. When he chuckles it sends vibrations right through you, making you shudder.
“That's it-” he purrs, amusement tinging his words when you suddenly buck your hips, “There you go, baby.” Bucky can practically feel it building up in you. His fingers thrust into your slick cunt faster, his skillful tongue lapping at your bud.
You're burning up, the coil in you tightens from his delirious efforts, your moans grow louder as he eats your pussy like a starving man. What he can't convey to you in words he replaces with luxury, lavish gifts and sex. You should know it by now with the way he's looking up at you in approval. Maybe if you dared to look a little harder you could pick apart the emotions carefully swirling in those deep blue eyes.
Low moans accompany yours as you writhe under his ministrations, the friction of his beard against your sensitive skin just adds to the intense sensations, and you can feel your climax approaching. Skilled fingers find your g-spot, and oh Bucky is determined on making you twist and squirm in pleasure.
He speeds up the pace, pumping his fingers into your pulsing hole faster, alternating between sucking your clit into his mouth and lapping at it.
“Come for me, sweet girl. Want you to come all over my face.”
You can't take it anymore, your fingers twitch, needing to hold onto something. Searing, white heat rushes through you as you cum with a strangled cry. Bucky slows down, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, uttering words of praise before he stops, and carefully pulls his slick covered fingers out of you. “Good girl," he croons.
Your heaving chest is covered in a light sheen of sweat; you can't help but smile. And when you open your eyes, you find him once more above you, smiling back at you. The words almost spill out of you then.
How can anyone look at you like that and not expect you to fall in love.
Swallowing down the aching feeling, you pull him into you, yearning for his skin on yours again to suppress the traitorous thoughts bubbling to the surface. You silence them with his lips on yours.
But even someone as oblivious as your sugar daddy can tell there's more to the way you cling to him, just to grow distant the next moment.
No matter how much he tried to keep it to himself, the burning question has been gnawing at him for a while now.
With a finger to your chin, he tips your head back ever so slightly and stares at you inquisitively, "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny?”
You weren't expecting him to call you out on your behavior or notice the difference in the first place. The question clamps down on your throat. “Nothing.”
Winding your arms around the back of his neck, you rush out a choked, “Just need you s’all.”
You're so consumed by lust, technically you were speaking the truth, and when you practically hump Bucky—grinding up against him, looking for that wonderful friction of his thigh against your core—he can't bring himself to dwell on it. Not now.
“You got me sweetheart, ‘m right here,” he hushes you while pushing back a loose strand of hair. When he kisses you it's passionate, you want to lose yourself in this moment, not have to face tomorrow or any day after.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, and while he fumbles with the buckle of his belt you marvel at the sight of his soft but strong body, moving up to his pouty, pink lips and smiling fondly at the way his disheveled hair sticks out in every direction. What you wouldn't give to cross every boundary, just go ahead and say it.
Finally, he yanks down his black suit pants, the fine italian fabric slides down his thick, muscular thighs. “Daddy,” you whine impatiently, urging him to move faster.
His boxer shorts follow the rest of his clothing that are scattered all over the floor, and from one moment to the next he's in front of you, twisting a hand around his cock. His thumb swipes over his head, smearing pre-cum along the pink tip, and you're just about ready to take matters into your own hand when he finally positions himself at your entrance.
“Hush now, baby. What's got you so needy today, hm?” he drags his tip through your folds, coating his cock in your wetness.
“You.” The answer comes instantly, you don't even have to think about it, and it makes his chest swell with pride. His lips descend onto yours, angling his head with a moan, and while you're caught up in the moment, he pushes himself inside you smoothly.
“You're so fucking tight, bunny," he groans, letting you adjust for a moment before he starts moving. Slowly at first, but it's not long before he speeds up, lavishing your neck with kisses, gently sucking until the skin bruises before he moves up to your lips again.
“You feel so good stretched out around me, y’known that? Taking me so well, good girl. My good girl,” he coos. A particular strong thrust makes you yelp, and Bucky is quick to soothe you. A tender kiss to your forehead, combined with Bucky's presence all over you—his warmth, and body surrounding you—leaves you panting, tears spring into your eyes.
“Please, more.”
His hips snap into yours, “Yeah? My baby wants more?”
You're so frustrated, all you can do is nod as the tears spill over, running down the sides of your face. “Woah, hey- I got you, sweetheart. Do you want to stop?” Bucky's worried eyes scan yours in concern, his thumbs swipe away the tears. He doesn't really know what to do seeing as this has never occurred before.
“No! Please, just- I need you. Please, Bucky,” you huff, almost angry at yourself for not being able to control your feelings.
You try again, this time a little less frantic. “I'm okay. Please Bucky, please fuck me,” you moan, rolling your hips against his. He groans, automatically thrusting up at the feeling.
His body weight on yours is grounding you. Once more your fingers thread through his hair, smoothing down the back of his neck, lightly scratching the fuzz on his nape. Moans mingle together as Bucky seeks his pleasure with each  grind, fucking into you faster to reach his peak and guide you to yours.
His thumb plays with your already swollen clit, making you whine against his neck.
“M’gonna come, daddy.” your sweet sounds are muffled by his lips chasing yours desperately.
Just as you feel your high quickly approaching, Bucky's thrusts grow stronger, his girth pumping into you faster and faster. Precise strokes leave you keening, and when Bucky's unoccupied hand goes to your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple between his fingers, you clamp down on him, crying out for him.
His breath hitches as he feels you milking him, and he follows right after you, cock twitching inside you as he spills his release with a strangled groan.
Soothingly he runs his hands over your shaking thighs, his heavy breath warm against your neck.
When he raises his head to peer at you once more, silently asking you— what, you don't know. Are you okay? Are you going to tell me? Are you going to say it?
You shake your head, brushing him off.
I just need you. That's all.
452 notes · View notes
Undisclosed - Five
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Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.
Word count: 5.7k
Warnings: Sexual themes, angst, allusions to a toxic relationship, basically buckle up because here we go 
a/n: Ahh!! I’ve said this before but I love these two so much and getting the mess started kills me a little. I hope you enjoy! I love love feedback <33
You can follow my library blog @pellucid-library​ for fic update notifications 🤍
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
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When Bucky first got off of work, he was a sight to behold. His flannel always peaked out from underneath his corduroy coat, muscles straining in places you couldn’t see. Dark hair found its way out of the bun he threw it in, unless he wore it down that day—in which case it always looked devastatingly endearing, strands disheveled and out of place, ends falling just at his neck. 
Sometimes there were still wood chips on his jeans as he walked through the library doors—much to Greta’s vexation—letting you know that he didn’t take a second before walking up that hill to get to you. Well, maybe a second, because the paper cups in his hand had to come from somewhere, the paper cups that now had extra writing on them—messages from Natasha. It always surprised you how much she could fit on the curved surface. 
Bucky’s cheeks were always flush from the cold, but his hands were always warm when he greeted you. He would reach up behind your neck and bring you close until your lips touched, his smile permanently etched into your skin. And when he pulled away, he would let his fingers linger on your cheek. Only for a moment; long enough to watch your lashes flutter open. 
It was a routine you had become accustomed to over the past few weeks: the quiet lumberjack meeting you at your quiet job, sometimes taking you to spend time with his friends, other times taking you back to his house in the trees. It was a routine you couldn’t believe was your life. 
But his friends were your friends, he would remind you, and this was your home now. 
With him. With the people of the town that brought you cookies fresh from their oven, dying for your opinion on their new recipe. With Steve and Sam, tossing straw wrappers at you at the diner and texting you that they were so bored, so you had to come watch old movies with them and ditch Bucky. With Natasha, begging you to chalk up the menu at the cafe because your handwriting was much better than hers. With Sarah, insisting that you didn’t need to pay for your room at the inn anymore; that you were family. 
It took you some time, but after a few months, you started to believe him. Everything just felt right. You started to open up more, the fear of being found—of being caught—lost on you in your happiness. And maybe it was a false sense of security, but with Bucky’s eyes so full of adoration every time he looked at you, that didn’t seem to matter. 
You and Bucky were taking it slow. You weren’t sure if it was a conscious decision made between the two of you, but you were definitely taking it slow.
The nights you spent at his house were filled with more talking and gentle touches than anything else. Little by little, you were pulling more information from him, finding out who he was and all the things that made him tick. And in turn, Bucky was showering you with affection. 
He would bundle you up on his couch, alpine tossed on your lap, and wrap you up in his arms. The fireplace would emit a gentle glow as he spoke behind you, chest pressed to your back. His words would be whispered into your temple, telling you about his family and his work and his life in Stowe Mills. When he would ask you a question, his words were replaced by his lips, soft and gentle on your skin. 
Occasionally, those lips turned into something more. You would turn in his grasp and press further into him, hands clutching needily at his sweater. And he would press back, low groans escaping his throat when you let him into your mouth. His firm arms pressed into your sides and his large palms trailed down and down—until they stopped. 
No words were spoken, but things would start to calm down. Desperate kisses turned into lazy ones until it was just foreheads resting against each other. He would smile at you and a log would pop in the fireplace, and then Alpine would nudge her way between your bodies. Calm, safe, happy. 
You were taking things slow. 
But god, when he walked in to pick you up today, he sure did test that. 
“Hey, sweet girl,” he charmed, sliding you your cup for the day. Apple cider—he must be feeling festive. “We got somewhere to be tomorrow.” 
“Oh do we?” you countered, leaning into the kiss Bucky offered.
“Sure do. And it’s at a place you haven’t been yet.”
You snorted. “How is that even possible? You took me on the ‘grand tour of Stowe Mills’ my second week here. Doesn’t seem so grand if you left something out.” 
“Hey, some places were closed. I don’t have full access to the town just ‘cause I was born here.” 
You hummed, turning the cup in your hand to read whatever nonsense Natasha had in store for you today. You were surprised by the brevity of it, a simple ‘tis the season’, written in red and green ink.
Christmas was a few weeks ago. It was a small affair. Apparently, the week of Christmas was peak time for lumber, leaving most of the town either down in the forest, or away on a lumber truck. Unfortunately, Bucky was on one of the trucks. He left you in charge of Alpine, meaning your Christmas was spent in his snug cabin, a small, white puff of fur your constant shadow. 
He called you the morning of, sweet words relayed over the humming of the lumber truck. You let him speak to Alpine—which he thought was dumb—and then he directed you to the small box he had hidden at the top of his closet.
You scolded him as you made your way down the hall. You both agreed to no gifts, your relationship sneaking up on you just in time for the holiday season.
You could feel his eye-roll through the phone. “It’s nothin’ big, doll. Just go look, will ya?” 
But it was something big; the key to his front door stared back at you in the small box, and you were speechless. So much so, that Bucky started to get a little anxious on the other end of the call. 
“It’s just ‘cause you’re there so much. I’m not askin’ you to move in with me or anything, but now you have it. It’s more for safety. Don’t need you runnin’ around with no place to go. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t—”
“Bucky,” you interrupted. “It’s perfect.” 
Because it was perfect—a small piece of a home that further solidified your place here. 
All that to say, it was no longer Christmas. It was almost February, in fact, so getting a Christmas note from Natasha and a cup of apple cider from Bucky confused you to no end. 
You watched as Bucky aimlessly made his way through the bookshelves before asking, “So where is it then?” 
“Town hall,” he smiled. He brought a book up to the counter, the small novel flipping in his hands. “It’s a Christmas party, so dress festive.” 
You cocked your head to the side. “Last I checked it wasn’t Christmas.”
“Hm, good observation, doll. But where was I on Christmas?”
“I don’t know, Montana?” 
“Exactly.” He rounded the desk, warm hands on your waist as you looked up at him. “We always have a little get together later. And this year I got a girl to spend it with, so the party’s kinda mandatory.” 
You wound your arms around his neck. “Well that sounds like the best Christmas ever.” 
“I don’t know about all that. I mean last year you were in New York, yeah? Must’ve been more exciting with all the big trees and the lights.” 
And just like that, you weren’t leaning against the counter in Bucky’s arms. You weren’t smelling the cinnamon candle Greta complained stunk up the building and you weren’t safe anymore. Bucky watched as your smile faded ever so slightly, but you were already too lost in your head to rectify it. 
Last Christmas was one of the worst. Tensions were high. You were getting closer to uncovering something you didn’t even know was yours to uncover. And he was off that day, pushing you to spend the day with your parents and coming home drunk out of his mind. 
There were no big trees or Christmas lights; just screaming and fighting and the words of a man close to ruin. But you had no idea why he was acting like that. It was so uncharacteristic of him at that time. He was supposed to be an upstanding man; never one to hurt you—not physically anyway. 
Although, that would prove untrue as time went on. 
“Doll?” Bucky cut through. “You okay?” 
You sucked a deep breath through your nose, blinking to clear your mind. “Yeah—no, yeah I’m fine, Buck. Just... Christmas hasn’t always been great.” 
“Oh, I’m sorry, doll,” he rushed, a hand sliding up to cradle your head. “I didn’t mean anything by that. We don’t even have to go tomorrow if you don’t feel up for it.”
“No, no, I want to go. I think it’ll be fun! Something to make up for the bad ones.” 
“If you’re sure.”  
“I am.” 
He brought your head forward and leaned down to kiss you, fingers brushing sweetly across your scalp. You grasped at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, needing the contact after the memories that had rushed through your mind. When you slotted your legs between his—body dangerously close—he broke the kiss. 
“You better stop while you’re ahead, sweet girl, or I’m gonna have to sit you up on that desk.” 
Your shaky breath fanned across his lips, eyes fluttering at the insinuation. The hand on your waist slid up to meet your skin, and your chest tightened at the contact, strong calloused hands moving up the dip in your waist. You were moments away from begging him to fulfill his promise when the bell chimed. 
“Oh good lord, at least leave the building before you start jumping on top of each other,” Greta admonished, her cane wobbling under her tight grip. 
Your face burned. “Sorry, Greta. I was just about to leave for the day.” Bucky refused to let go of your hand as you tried to push him away. “Do you need me to lock up?” 
“No,” she drawled. “Get out of here before I see something I don't want to.” 
You quickly skittered away to grab your bag, returning to catch the tail end of the pleasantries being exchanged. At least Greta liked one of you. 
“—’Course I will, Greta. You don’t have to worry about that. Got the best intentions.” 
“You best make sure, James Barnes.” 
You slung your bag over your shoulder just as Bucky grabbed your coat off the hook, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes, but allowed him to wrap the material around your shoulders, prompting your exit with a soft pat toward the door. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Greta,” you called. 
“Yeah, yeah.” 
You leaned into Bucky’s side on the sidewalk, feet making gentle scuffs in the pavement as you made your way to his home. “I’m going to make her like me eventually,” you grumbled.  
“She already likes you, doll.” 
“This morning she told me I looked like I got run over by a semi-truck.” 
He laughed, gathering you under his arm. His breath came out in clouds and his shoulders shook you as you walked. You reached up to fiddle with the hair tie around his wrist, and pulled his warmth further beside you.
“I’m glad you find that funny, Bucky. Do you often tell your employees that they’re ugly?” 
“What—she wasn’t callin’ you ugly, sweet girl. You gotta know you're the prettiest girl in this town.” 
“I feel like you’re a bit biased.” 
He let his fondness show, fixing the shoulder of your coat and dropping his lips to linger on your head. “So what if I am? Still got eyes.” 
You hummed in amusement, pace matching Bucky’s as the wind whipped at your covered skin. The chill met your cheeks and your nose, but it fought hard against your temple, Bucky’s sweet smile pressed against it. That feeling had become such a constant in your life; you were sure you knew how every variation of his lips felt against you, how soft they could be, and how tempting. 
Second in familiarity to Bucky’s lips was the piney scent of his house, always accompanied by the softness that was Alpine nudging at your legs. You could find the smell in the sweaters you ‘borrowed’ from his closet, and in his chest when you pressed your nose to its firm comfort. It was especially strong in his bed—which he now shared with you more nights than you cared to admit—the hand-knitted quilts and mismatched pillows ingrained with him. Truth be told, you were more used to the coziness that was Bucky’s house than you were your room at the inn, but you were taking it slow; there was no way you could move in with him. 
Of course, Bucky would disagree. There was nothing he wanted more than to have you and your warmth filling his home. 
And you wanted that too, so badly that you didn’t care about your past. 
“I’m tellin’ ya, darlin’, his entire coat, just ripped in half. His Ma was so mad at him. She had him shoveling the snow in their front yard for hours.” 
Steve’s boisterous tone bounced off the walls of the small room, jovial laughs following quickly behind. Bucky grumbled from beside you, but you could tell by the slight glimmer in his eye that he didn’t mind the stories. That didn’t stop him from resting a strong, comforting hand on your knee. 
“She just bought it for him too! But he just had to go climbin’ up that tree like the damn troublemaker he always was.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped you. “Bucky was a troublemaker?”
Natasha was quick to lean forward in her seat. “Are you kidding me? Barnes was the biggest issue this town had for a while.” 
“Alright, alright. I wasn’t that bad,” he quipped back, his chest rumbling beside you as he held in a laugh. “We were just gonna chop that tree down the next day anyway. I don’t see why it was such a big deal.” 
The doors to the small kitchenette swung open, Maria and Sam hauling in the food for the night. 
When they said they were doing Christmas, they meant it. Turkey, cranberry sauce, mash potatoes, stuffing; they had the works all piled up on platters from Sarah Rogers’ kitchen. You were in charge of dessert, which really meant that you and Bucky were in charge of dessert. He was the one with the kitchen after all. 
You spent the majority of the day before in said kitchen, trying to get three pies and an obscene amount of cookies made, all while evading Bucky’s wandering hands. You would pull more eggs from his fridge and he would pluck them from your arms, dragging you closer and pressing you against the cabinets. Your hands would be covered in flour from rolling out the pie crust, and he would kiss up your neck since you couldn’t do anything about it. 
“Buck—” you giggled. “Your friends aren’t going to have any pie if you keep this up.” 
He hummed, mouth warm against your skin. “Our friends, sweet girl. And I don’t really care if they get their damn pie.” 
You turned in his arms, resting your forearms on his shoulders to save his clothes from the flour. The low music from his old record player trickled into the kitchen as you leaned up to kiss him. His cheeks were warm against yours, his beard rough. When you pulled away, his gaze was overflowing with adoration. 
“I care. I can’t make a bad impression on my first Christmas, now can I? They might not invite me back next year,” you smiled.
He took in a small breath before whispering, “Next year?” 
“Yeah, James. Next year.” 
He didn’t care about the flour in his hair as his next kiss descended upon your lips. 
Even with the distractions, you thankfully managed to fill your dessert quota. You walked into the admittedly small town hall with four dozen cookies in hand, while Bucky balanced the three pie tins in his larger arms. And when you shoved the doors open with your shoulder, you were met with a warmth you had never found in your parent’s vast penthouse. 
There was a tree waiting to be decorated in the far corner, holiday music playing from the speakers around the room, and just about every inch of the walls were covered in some variation of tinsel. The smell from the food in the kitchenette mingled with the sugar cookie candles you were pretty sure belonged to Sam’s grandma, the rain outside beating on the windows, almost to the tempo of the music. 
It was perfect—the perfect Christmas, a month late. 
“Food’s up!” Sam called, setting his trays down on the table in the middle of the room. 
Maria scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks to this guy. Seemed like he was going to eat all the mashed potatoes before I could even get them out here.” 
“Hey, I made them, I get first bite.” 
“First several bites.” 
“Okay you two,” Natasha sighed, abandoning her chair and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. “No fighting on Christmas.” 
“He’s the one that started it!” 
“I’m sure he did, милая.” Natasha placed an overemphasized kiss to Maria’s cheek, but quickly released her in favor of the food now in the room. 
It was all very informal, and nothing like you were used to. Bucky ran a gentle hand down your arm before heaving himself up from the tiny loveseat the two of you claimed, adding himself to the makeshift line formed by the food. Mismatched plates were passed out, shoulders were playfully nudged; Steve had decided to man the turkey dish and was cutting off slices for anyone that asked. 
In all of your Christmas experience, you’d never felt the tightness in your chest that bloomed after seeing this group of friends fight over a plate of stuffing. Bucky quietly stood in the back with two plates in his hand, and you bit a smile back at the realization. He glanced in your direction when Steve stole a roll off of Sam’s plate, sending you a smirk when he caught your expression. He turned his attention back to the table and glared when Natasha smacked his arm for holding up the line. 
“I like the way he looks at you.” 
“What?” You snapped your gaze away from Bucky to find Maria leaning against the back of your seat, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. 
“He looks at you like he doesn’t need to worry anymore. I like that,” she continued. 
You twisted further, confusion marring your face. “Worry about what?” 
“About anything. You’ve given him something to look forward to. That’s hard to come by when you live in a place like this.” 
You laughed a little, leaning back into the arm of the loveseat. Bucky’s side profile was on full display from this angle, and you took a moment to appreciate the angular slopes of his features; the way his eyes never ceased to leave you breathless, even from a distance. 
“I don’t know about all that,” you countered. “I’m nothing special.” 
She reached out and gave your shoulder a soft squeeze. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’ve known Bucky my entire life. He’s never been one to talk much, and his face barely gives anything away, but when he looks at you—I’ve never seen him look like that. You’re special to him.” 
“I—” you stuttered, but your broken response was cut off by a familiar warmth beside you. 
“I know you said you don’t like cranberry sauce, but I got you a little ‘cause Sarah makes the best. They’re like animals over there—eatin’ everything before you even stood up. Made sure I got you enough though.” 
You turned to Bucky in a slight daze, a long breath let out as a silent laugh. He had your plates held out in his hands and a drink pressed up against his chest as he recounted your food to you. It wasn’t until he looked at you in your silence that you could see what Maria meant. 
His features softened immediately, eyes like a warm day, chilled by the blue that made up his irises. His cheeks found their way to the high points of his face, emitting a healthy glow that you had become accustomed to; a look only provided to you, apparently. His brows unfurrowed and his lashes fluttered as he took you in, as if mimicking the feeling inside of his stomach. 
And then he smiled. “Somethin’ wrong, doll?” 
“She’s fine,” Maria affirmed. “Just hungry.” She sent you a wink as she met with Natasha. 
Bucky shifted beside you, pressing the plate into your hands. “Ever since you two met she’s been eyein’ me all weird. What’s up with that?” he grumbled. His wide frame shifted the couch cushions beneath you as he settled in. 
“No reason,” you squeaked. “Uh, thank you—for the food I mean. And everything else.” 
“Anything for you, sweet girl.” 
The clinking of cutlery against plates and steady conversation followed Bucky’s sweet voice. You ate as more stories were shared, old and new, and felt the way your stomach jumped each time Bucky made contact from his side of the couch. 
It was funny really, the way he seemed to affect you the most when he did the smallest things. When he kissed you in the privacy of his home he made you choke on air, but the simple act of him running his knuckles across your cheek in the warm, low light of the town hall rec room had you desperately fighting for a breath. He held you from behind in his kitchen, but somehow the half an inch he shifted to get closer to you on the loveseat made your blood run hot. 
Maybe it was because his friends were watching the open affection. 
Or maybe it was the way his adoration looked in this new atmosphere, the softness behind his eyes—the clarity. 
Bucky laughed at something, his chest shaking your shoulder and pulling you from the intense staring contest you were having with the side of his face. You blinked a few times to ground yourself, and noticed the empty plate he was setting on the coffee table. This man’s ability to eat always astounded you; both him and Steve could have probably finished the entire spread from earlier. Sam was close behind them, but something about those two was just different, more. 
You followed Bucky’s lead with your own plate, and leaned further into the couch, relishing in the close proximity of his arm on the back of your seat. You thought he would leave it at that, but then the weight of his arm appeared on your shoulders and he was tugging you closer to his chest with clear intent. 
You froze. 
Slight touches were one thing, but such open, intimate affection wasn’t something you were used to. No—it was taboo even. Not allowed.
“Get off of me. We. Are. In. Public.” 
“But I thought—”
“Didn’t your parents ever teach you how this thing works?” 
You didn’t realize how rigid your body had become until hesitant lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “You okay?” 
You sucked air through your nose, desperate for a reality check. The rest of the group was carrying on as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, and maybe there wasn’t. This wasn’t like before; you were allowed to be happy now. Bucky putting his arm around you was a normal thing—encouraged even. Natasha and Maria were in a similar position across the room. You were allowed to have this. 
It was yours.
You reached up for Bucky’s hand on your shoulder. “Yes. Yeah, of course I’m okay. I’m more than okay, I’m—I’m really okay.” 
“Wow, really okay?” he laughed. 
“Yeah, really really okay.” 
“Was it the cranberry sauce?” 
You scoffed, pushing a playful hand into his chest and leaning into the kiss he pressed against your temple. The kiss everyone saw. It would take you a while to unlearn the thoughts of your past, but with Bucky’s gentle touches and sweet words, you were sure the process would be an easy one. And you would start with this belated Christmas. 
The night pressed on. A white elephant gift exchange followed the food, and then everyone was decorating the tree together. It was an almost impossible task with the amount of micromanaging in the room. Natasha insisted that she should be the one to put the star on top of the tree even though she was much shorter than Steve, and Steve simply wanted to know why Sam’s baby picture ornament couldn’t go on the top. 
“Because I’m naked, man. That’s my entire ass you’re tryna put on display,” he had argued. 
A compromise was struck: Sam’s ornament would go lower on the tree, and you would be the one to do the star—since you were the newest of course. 
Bucky lifted you up to reach the top with so much ease you were beginning to question the amount of conditioning that went into being a lumberjack. He didn’t even let out a huff as he heaved you clear above his head. He lowered you back down with a kiss to the top of your head, and then it was promptly time for dessert. 
Your pies were a hit—as Bucky insisted they would be—and you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face. Steve and Sam were going on and on about some video they saw last Christmas, and all you could do was bask in the happiness you had somehow acquired. 
“No, I’m tellin’ you, Sam. It was a yorkie. Had to be,” Steve called, leaning back in his armchair with a plate of pie balancing on his leg. 
“Steve, it was a pitbull.” 
“A pitbull’s too big to fit on a skateboard.” 
Sam scoffed, heaving himself up from his seat on the floor. “C’mon then. Pull the video up.” 
You turned to Bucky with a glimmer in your eye, looking on excitedly as he shoveled another bite of pie into his mouth. He had his gaze fixed noncommittally on the blinking Christmas tree, zoned out and happy. 
“You think they really like my dessert, Buck?” you asked, gripping his forearm. 
He swallowed hard. “‘Course they do, doll. I told ya it would be a hit.” 
“I know you said that,” you drawled, shaking him in your grip. “But you’re obligated to say that. No one’s ever actually told me they like my food before.” 
He furrowed his brows. “But you told me you used to bake all the time. You said your Ma made you take classes and everything.” 
A small pit settled in your stomach, threatening to suck up any joy that resided there. Your hands faltered a little, and unpleasant memories faded in the back of your mind, but you were quick to push them away. You were allowed to have this, you reminded yourself. You didn’t constantly have to think about then. 
The smile that began to slip reappeared on your face. “I just never baked for other people very often. Just for myself, mostly.” 
“Oh, I see,” he hummed, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “Keeping all your talents for yourself, are you?” 
“Wait, what the hell? No, rewind that, Sam.” Steve’s voice had raised significantly, his posture in the armchair stiffening. “Is that—?” 
“No, it couldn’t be. Wait just lemme—” 
Their confusion caught the attention of the entire party. The other two conversations had ceased abruptly, and the only sound in the room was the music through the speakers and the buffering of Steve’s small iphone. Sam’s eyes flickered up to you—just once. You felt your entire body go cold when you heard the intro to the video.
High-pitched beeping preceded a few whooshing sounds, and then, “Good morning, New York, it’s 8:30 am on this bright, snowy morning. My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and you’re watching Channel Seven: the only news station that’ll bring you skateboarding dogs before the traffic report. So let’s send it over to Jessica for a look at the weather, and I’ll be right back with the adoptable dogs from the Brooklyn shelter.” 
Harmless words, really; just a reporter, talking about adoptable dogs on the morning news. She probably had a wide, fake smile on her face, clothes pressed to perfection and a mic clipped to her collar. Papers were most likely stacked on the table in front of her—empty papers. They were just for show. 
And maybe if the girl wasn’t you, the absolute dread flowing through you would be absent. Maybe if you didn’t know exactly what dress the girl in the video was wearing, you wouldn’t have dropped Bucky’s hands. And if you hadn’t heard that same intro a million times before, the heat creeping up your neck wouldn’t be so unbearable. 
Something was lodged in your throat, but it wasn’t physical. Bucky was speaking from beside you, but all you could hear was ringing. A bomb must have gone off somewhere, maybe in your mind, maybe directly in front of you; you wouldn’t have known the difference at this point. The ringing got louder and louder, but to a rhythm this time. It reminded you of your alarm clock in Manhattan. It wouldn’t stop. You wanted it to stop so badly. 
“Y/n,” Bucky stressed, grip firm on your shoulders. “What’s going on? Is that—is that you?” 
The thing lodged in your throat let a small breath slip from your throat. “Yes,” you admitted, shaky hands sliding down your jeans. It would have been impossible to deny it, impossible to pretend that the girl on the screen wasn’t entirely, irrevocably you. 
The music was still playing through the room, mocking you with its joyful tones as your life fell apart, again. Steve’s chair groaned as he leaned forward, Sam getting up from its arm to fall into the fold out chair along the wall. That seat groaned too, followed by a shrill tone as his belt hit the metal. If you focused on it too much, that sound would take you back to the trance you were in just moments ago; it would let you fall into oblivion—where you should have stayed the moment you left New York in the first place. 
“But—you said your last name was Jones. And you never said you were a… I mean, you said you were a librarian.” Each one of his words was more frantic. He ran an unsteady hand through unkempt hair. 
Five sets of eyes on you. “I know I did. I—I lied.” 
There was no other way for this to go; you knew the second you heard the god-awful beeps introducing the morning show that you couldn’t stay here anymore. It wasn’t safe for them to know, and you weren’t about to get these people hurt—to get Bucky hurt. 
“You lied,” Natasha repeated, and it was as if you were an enemy almost instantly. Her voice was cold. “Care to explain why?” 
“I can’t,” you whispered. You looked up to meet her eyes, and they didn’t match her tone. They were softer, offended even. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” 
You were quick to raise yourself from the couch, forgoing your jacket and stumbling over your own feet. Tears pricked at your waterline at the thought of what you had to do next—at the thought of leaving. You inhaled deeply as you stalked to the door, ruminating on the scent of the only Christmas that had ever made you feel welcome. Your fingers felt numb as they met the wooden handle. You wished it wasn’t so smooth, that it had a texture to it; anything to make you feel something other than this unrelenting panic.  
And then a hand was over yours, stopping you from continuing your jerky movements. You kept your eyes zeroed in on the contact, knowing it would be the last time you’d feel it. The thought made you nauseous, stomach flipping in preemptive agony. 
“Don’t leave,” Bucky pleaded. “Stay. Please. We’ll listen.” 
For a moment, you actually considered it. His voice held that delicate, deep rumble you had become so accustomed to, and for a second, you humored the idea. You would cry in Bucky’s arms and tell him about the family that threw you to the wolves, and about the wolf that caused you to run. 
He would brush your hair back from your face, the pads of his thumbs wiping away tears, and you would feel safe with him. His friends would understand. Bucky would make them understand. Because if there was one thing clear in Bucky’s tone, it was that he wanted so desperately to make sense of this all—to give you any reason to stay.
And god, did you want to stay. 
But telling him was as good as a death sentence. You knew that first hand; remembered what had happened to you the second you were the one to ask too many questions. 
Your chest heaved. The next song began as your breath met joined hands, Andy Williams’ ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ punctuating the demise of your happiness.  “I can only stay if you don’t ask me anything.” 
A beat, and then the hand was removed. A small part of you—the small, unreasonable dreamer—thought maybe he would be okay with that; that Bucky wouldn’t need to know about this whole, entire person you used to be. This other you from then. The one on the run. 
“Who are you?” he whispered. 
With watery eyes, you finally looked up at his devastated features. Devastated and hurt and betrayed. “I’m sorry, James.”
You were foolish to think any of this was yours. 
The door shut. 
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Taglist in reblog :) 
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marvelatthetwilight · 2 days ago
Can I get a Bucky x reader please !!
Mafiabucky! Please
He’s not afraid of anyone unless it’s his 5’2 girlfriend coming into the office interrupting a meeting to tell him he’s an hour late for their date !
I think it will be cute watching a little thing walk in and seeing his face drop and Steve holding in laughs because he knows Bucky in deep shit
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A/N: Oh Bucky's in troooooouble. A quick one. Also, only 15 followers away from 1,000, I need to think of a celebration quick!
A quick knock on the door prompts a growl from Bucky at being interrupted. “What?!” He calls out.
“Er…boss?” Peter, one of his newest recruits nervously stands in the doorway.
“I said I wasn’t to be interrupted.” Bucky rests his head in his hands, lifting his head only to pinch at the top of his nose whilst he waits for Peter’s nervous reply.
“I know boss, but she said…”
“Miss Y/N.”
A scoff from the side of the room suddenly pulls Bucky from his frustration, a shot of panic rippling through his body.
“Y/N’s here? What did you do Buck?” Steve asks, trying to hold down his laughter.
“It’s more like what didn’t he do Stevie. Thanks Peter, I got it from here.” You pat the young lad on the shoulder before strutting into Bucky’s office, your heels clicking on the expensive wooden floors, your bag hanging at your side, your favourite dress adorning your body, clinging to your curves in just the right places. Just as Bucky liked it.
“Hey…er…hi kitten…” Bucky replies nervously, Steve spluttering from the corner trying not to make eye contact with Sam as they both try to hold in their laughter.
“That’s all you have to say Buck?”
“You look beautiful.” He gestures to your dress, his gaze smouldering as he follows your dress to where it meets your bare legs.
“Of course, I do. But why am I dressed nicely James?”
“Uh oh. She called him James.” Sam whispers across the room to Steve.
Bucky tries to ignore his friends whispering behind him as he attempts to focus on you. He racks his brain to the events of this morning before he left for work.
“You’re always beautiful kitten, always dressed beautifully.” Bucky offers, glancing back at Steve nervously, his friend simply shrugging with a smirk on his face.
“Take a guess James. Why. Am. I. Dressed. Like. This.” You punctuate each word with a step towards him until you’re standing in front of his desk, leaning forward till you are inches from his face. He swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches your features for any clues.
Steve gets up from his seat at the side of the desk, squeezing your arm as he passes you.
“We’re just gonna leave you to it. We’ll sort out the other stuff.” Steve calls out to Bucky on his way out, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he motions for them to leave. He sends you a quick wink before disappearing through the door. “Give him hell Y/N!” He shouts through the door as it closes.
You smirk as you look down at Bucky, watching him carefully, his mind working overtime to work out where he has gone wrong. Suddenly his face brightens in recognition, feeling proud of himself before it’s quickly replaced by a look of disappointment.
“Oh doll, I’m so sorry.” He reaches for you, and you flinch away from him, shaking your head.
“We’ve been planning this for weeks. I waited at the restaurant for you, like we planned.” Your earlier angry resolve breaks slightly as your voice cracks.
“Kitten I promise I will make it up to you.”
You lean back down towards him again, faces so close that Bucky could touch your lips in a kiss, but he doesn’t dare. Not after what he’s done. Your eyes glint mischievously, Bucky wrapped tightly around your finger, oh how you would milk this opportunity dry.
“Oh, I know you will Buck.”
Bucky Barnes taglist:
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Could you write a smutty part two to play pretend?? It’s such a good storyline
I sure can!
Shiver | Bucky Barnes x Reader
I hadn't planned on a part two to Play Pretend, but I actually loved the idea! So, thank you to whoever this anon was that asked for it :) This story matches up with this Walk the Moon song that I've been wanting to use for a fic, so I did a lil combo.
As always, send me any comments, requests, and/ or suggestions!
Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @emetophilily @breakablebarnes
"You leave these marks upon my neck And they're still there I know but I still check
You're dear to me Please check your clothing at the door And who you're supposed to be You always leave me wanting more."
Bucky's large, muscular body molded around your back with his hands on yours, his hot breath in your ear. Every time it was your turn to take a shot, you asked him for help holding your pool cue- just so he'd stand close to you. The warmth of his body set your nerves on edge, making you want to turn around and press your lips against his. Every time he brushed your hair out of your face or let his hand linger on your lower back, you melted just a little bit more.
Last call ruined your fun, and the two of you lazily made your way out of the bar. "Can I give you a ride home?" Bucky asked, staring at your lips almost the entire time he spoke. A pink tinge made its way up to your cheeks as you nodded and let him snake his arm around your back, leading you to his car. His thumb made small circles on your spine as you walked, sending goosebumps across your skin.
The way he stared at you with an animalistic intensity left you weak in the knees, making you crave his attention, his touch. On the drive back to your apartment, you couldn't help but notice how often he looked over at you, taking you in every chance he could. It was a mostly quiet, uneventful ride until you reached a red light a few blocks away from your place.
You met his gaze, matching his intensity as he turned to look at you, and that was all it took for him to firmly press his lips against yours. His gloved hand grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in closer so he could claim your lips for himself. A low moan escaped his lips as you opened your mouth for his tongue and tugged on the collar of his jacket, bringing him as close as he could possibly be. The car behind you honked a few times, ruining the perfect moment and making Bucky break the kiss. He punched the gas while still looking at you, making your stomach lurch as he sped down the street.
Once in front of your building, it took no time at all for Bucky to accept your invitation upstairs. Getting your key in the front door of the building was almost impossible as Bucky left kisses down your neck, scratching at your tender skin with his stubble and making your hands shake. The elevator ride upstairs was a blur of lips and hands, leaving you more buzzed than you'd been at the bar. Once inside your apartment, Bucky's strong hands gripped your waist and snaked up your shirt, pulling the garment off with ease. Greedily, you ripped off his jacket and tried to lift his shirt-but you were met with a hand around your wrist. "Uhhh" Bucky began, "just wanna warn you...about the arm. And the scars," he muttered.
Your hands flew to his face and pulled him in desperately for a kiss full of longing, the mention of his arm not lessening your desire for him one bit. "Not gonna lie to you, Barnes. I think the arm is hot" you whispered, "but if you don't wanna-" Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky was pulling off his gloves and shirt, revealing himself to you fully. Your eyes moved over every inch of his body-the taught skin stretched over his chiseled muscles, the deep scar tissue along his left side, and the shiny black and gold arm that whirred quietly each time he moved.
"fuck..." you murmured before launching yourself into his arms and devouring his lips. His right hand found your waist, gripping it tight, while his left hand sat idly by. You sensed his trepidation to touch you with it, so you did it for him, taking hold of his cold, metallic hand and placing it on your waist. You shivered at the contact, pressing yourself even closer into his warm chest.
His hands moved up your spine, removing your bra and throwing it to the ground. A gasp escaped your lips as his cold hand found your chest, playing expertly with one of your nipples. The chill from the vibranium sent a shock through your system, making you hunger for him even more. You bit down on his lower lip, causing a low moan to rumble out of his chest. Without warning, his hands slipped behind your knees and he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with ease.
"Bedroom?" he asked between kisses.
"Second door on the left," you responded breathlessly.
He threw open your bedroom door and laid you down on the mattress before climbing on top of you, wasting no time. His hands slid upward from your hips to your chest- leaving goosebumps in their wake- while his mouth traveled down your neck and across your collarbone. "How do you feel about...marks?" he murmured against you skin, making you moan.
"Mark me up, Barnes" you teased-and he didn't disappoint. He worked across the sensitive skin of your breasts, sucking hickeys into the flesh. He covered your chest and neck in crimson circles and teeth marks, claiming you for himself. With each sting from his mouth, you let out a moan, tangling your fingers in his soft, short hair and tugging on it with abandon. Finally, after teasing you for eternity, he ripped off your jeans while his tongue toyed with one of your nipples.
"Oh, I like these," he muttered as he played with the lace of your emerald green underwear. His cold finger traced along the lacy waistband, dipping down ever so slightly to tease your clit. You took in a sharp inhale, and Bucky watched with utter desire at the face you made, loving the way your mouth opened because of him. He couldn't take it any longer and pulled your underwear off in one quick motion before pushing your legs apart and settling in between them.
He devoured you like a man starved, sucking on your clit and teasing at your entrance with his tongue. His cold fingers plunged into you, making your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation. Your hips bucked as he traced furious circle over your clit with his tongue, making him use his warm hand to press your hips down into the mattress.
"Bucky..." you moaned, and his eyes snapped upward to meet yours, a devilish grin on his face, "fuck me, babe". His fingers didn't miss a beat, curling relentlessly against your g-spot, causing your breath to catch in your throat.
"Say that again for me, doll" he whispered.
"F-fuck me," you stammered as his fingers dove as deep as they would go. He nodded and placed a few sloppy kisses against your clit before removing himself from you and slipping out of his jeans and underwear. You nearly began to salivate at the sight of his thick cock standing at attention all for you. You reached out and took hold of it, stroking it with one hand while running your nails down his chest with the other. He let out a deep moan and let his head fall back as you touched him, melting at the sensation of your hand wound tightly around him.
A gentle shove to your shoulder sent you back into the mattress, watching as Bucky crawled into the bed and positioned himself over you. He watched your face with a deep hunger as he circled the head of his cock against your clit. "God, you're fucking perfect, aren't you?" he murmured before pressing himself just inside your entrance.
A sharp gasp left your lips as he began slowly pushing himself inside you, his size forcing the air out of your lungs. "Goddamn, baby..." was all he could say as you clenched around him, dying for him to pound into you. He started slowly, making you feel each and every inch of him every time he thrusted, before pinning your hands above your head and picking up his pace, fucking you deep. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him into you even deeper as his mouth latched on to your neck, setting your skin on fire with even more red and purple bruises.
"You look so perfect with my marks all over you, doll..." he murmured in your ear, "so fucking beautiful". He was so deep, you swore you could feel him in your throat. He slammed against your sweet spot relentlessly, but it was his praise that finally sent you over the edge. He watched you fall apart beneath him, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he saw your eyes fill with agonizing pleasure. He felt himself slipping and began to slow his pace to regain control, but you weren't having it. Your legs squeezed around him even tighter, pulling him into you as you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm crashing over you.
"Come on, Sargent," you teased, "I wanna see you let go..." You applied even more pressure to his hips, dragging him deep inside you for a few more thrusts before his stormy blue eyes shut tight. His moans were deep, animalistic sounds that had you ready for round two the second you heard them. He crashed down on top of you, leaving gentle kisses on each of the purple marks, he'd made.
After a hot shower and a late night pizza order, the two of you fell asleep in your bed, limbs tangled together in just the right way. When the sun finally rose, you observed the sleeping man next to you with disbelief. At one point in time, he'd been the most wanted assassin in the world, and yet there he was, sleeping peacefully while wrapped up in your floral comforter. You padded quietly to the bathroom and peered into the mirror, knowing in the back of your mind that, come Monday, you'd have to wear a lot of concealer on your neck.
"Looks good to me," Bucky murmured as he walked up behind you and laced his arms around your waist. You chuckled and shot him a playful eye roll. "To me, too- I'm just not sure my boss will be a fan of me showing up at work with a hundred hickeys from a hook up".
"Nah, I don't think it'll be that big of a deal," Bucky said with a wink, "I mean, they did come from your boyfriend."
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lovelybarnes · 2 days ago
to forget is to wish- b. barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers warnings: language lol, idk why i decided to change my writing style for this one?? about: prompt Person A is about to leave for work. Person B asks them if they've forgotten anything, and Person A gives them a kiss. Person B turns red and opens their hand to reveal Person A's keys/wallet/etc., saying 'I meant this, but thanks.' a/n: gah i loved this prompt so much. i’ve also been thinking about steve rogers lately, and this is what i got from it lmao the title is also the only thing i could think of that wasn't just. forget- b. barnes, it's really not that deep lmao
“mission in fifteen minutes, y/n. i want you at the jet in ten, please.” steve reminds, tilting his chin down at you and raising a motherly eyebrow, completing his whole mother hen stance with a pointed finger.
“aye, aye,” you sigh, eyeing him weirdly. bucky looks at you in confusion to steve, frowning. once steve catches the both of you staring at him, he looks down at himself, standing normally again, putting his hand down, and clearing his throat.
“ten minutes, agent,” he repeats, before heading off. bucky looks back at you.
“what the hell was that? he looked like my ma.”
you shrug, “i think he’s really settled into the whole team leader captain thing. he offered me a sweater the other day.”
bucky’s nose crinkles, and his eyes scan you in a way that makes your whole body tingle, “man, you avengers are not good for him.”
you laugh, shoving lightly at him, “hey! i’ll have you know i’m not even a fully-fledged avenger yet. barely hatching. it’s probably because of how shittily stark, banner, and nat take care of themselves.”
“he never offered me a sweater,” bucky mutters offhandedly, crossing his arms and settling back into his grumpy front again, “the other way around, actually.”
“well, sometimes he’s also a bitch,” you recount with a thoughtful tilt of your head, remembering each instance of steve rogers being a bitch. a smirk pulls at your lips, “but sometimes in a good way.”
“that sounds more like him,” bucky nods. you both settle into a comfortable silence again, the only noise the sound of the television as it plays one of the shows on steve’s list—bucky likes getting ahead of him so he can spoil them for steve—and an occasional chuckle or comment.
after a few minutes, you tap your phone, groaning quietly when you realize you have five minutes to go until steve becomes a bitch again and drags you to the jet himself.
a large sigh parts your lips, snuggling in further into the couch to take advantage of the little time you have left and simultaneously trying to slim the space that lies between you and bucky—ah, the wonders of the weird in-between-friends-and-flirting thing you two have going on.
a light tension falls over the both of you when two of the characters from the show you’re watching—coincidentally very similar to bucky and you. in the same situation and everything, seriously—confess their feelings in possibly the most dramatic way the writers could come up with. the fact they’re doing this isn’t the cause for the tension, rather it’s what they’re saying. every word seems to resonate with you, and you shift uncomfortably, looking back down at your phone. one minute gone. bitch steve rogers please take me now.
“wow,” you hear, and it’s a little too late when you realize it’s your own voice, no doubt heading in a way that you’ll regret. “that’s interesting,” you finish.
bucky, from your side, turns to you, “them… confessing… or whatever, is interesting?”
you force yourself to nod, knowing you dug yourself into the hole with your inability to stay silent when it matters. “yeah, very…” you flail, “desirable…”
“ah,” bucky replies. you’re oblivious to the storm of thoughts that’s happening in his mind at the new piece of information.
“like you,” you manage, trying to bring back the conversation into a place you’re more familiar with, or at least have become more familiar with in the past few weeks.
“i’m desirable?” bucky echoes, and the lilt in his words tells you he’s silently following your lead.
“hoo,” you exhale dramatically, beginning to fan your warm cheeks and leaning back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with him. “you have no idea.”
he’s smiling at you now, and it’s almost blinding the playfulness on his lips—the glint in the ocean of his eyes. you barely realize how close you’ve gotten until his eyes flicker to your lips, returning his gaze back to your eyes before you can even begin to question it.
he’s leaning forward, slowly, nervously, giving you a chance to back out, even if there is no possible reason you ever would.
your phone rings suddenly, the tune of the star spangled singers' star spangled man ringing out and indicating it’s steve deciding to be a bitch and the biggest cockblocker in the world. you and bucky both pull away, and you frantically press the green call button, pulling your phone up to your ear and hissing that you’re coming before hanging up.
you put your phone on the table again, reaching for your shoes and tugging them on your feet. “guess i gotta go now, um, don’t finish the episode without me, okay? you know i like knowing more than steve.”
bucky licks his lips, nodding, “of course.”
once your boots are tied, you bounce off of the couch, heading over to the kitchen where you left two of the daggers that belong on your thigh. you never like having them on when you sit on the couch, as they press either into your thighs or the cushions—one of which has harsher consequences that involve tony and the amount of money he spends on ridiculously expensive lounge furniture.
“i’ll see you later, okay?” you say, beginning to walk out of the kitchen until bucky stops you from the couch.
“think you’re forgetting something, doll.”
you turn to him, looking around the room until you land on the blade you usually keep strapped to your boot. “oh,” you laugh, going to pick it up and putting it where it belongs. you’re about to leave again when he impedes again.
he hums, “not that.”
your eyebrows join, scanning all around you once again. you walk closer to bucky, who’s leaning on the couch, observing as you struggle to figure out what you’re forgetting. finally, you notice your laces are untied and crouch to tie it correctly, “that it?” you question from the ground, looking up at him.
he shakes his head, an amused smile pulling at his cheeks and crinkling his eyes, “try again, but aren’t you lucky you caught all that?”
with furrowed brows and no other real ideas, you lean in closer to bucky, gently pressing your lips against his long enough for his breath to leave his lungs entirely. a wild blush overtakes the color of his cheeks and he blinks. the black of his pupils drowning out the bright cerulean in his irises as he gulps, clearly a little distraught but definitely not upset about it. slowly, he takes out your phone from the pocket where he was hiding it and meekly offers it to you, “i meant this, but thanks.”
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chaashni · 2 days ago
concept !!!
reader wanting to be incharge that night and she wants to try caging bucky/OR rockstar, but bucky/harry end up taking control anyway even when she’s on top. and then she slips a bit maybe and wants to be fucked so they taunt her and say they can’t coz they’re caged so no fucking tn <3
Come Through Tonight
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In the end, its all about the rough hands and bruising kisses.
A/n: This one screams beefy!drummer! Bucky(Highlighter!Harry wouldn't flit close to a cock cage ;D) That video is so fucking hot and it unleashed something in me, so here's this. Porn without plot.
Word Count: 3.2K
Warnings: Smut. This is filth at its finest. Cock cages. Established relationships. Sprinkles of D/S dynamics(they are fighting through it). Metal Arm Kink cause I'm a whore. Choking. Teasing. Face sitting. Taunting. That link is porn.
Tell Me What You Think. Fic Library is @chaashnifics
Patience is a tricky little bitch sometimes. You find your lower lip a little swollen from all the biting and suckling it has been subjected to in the last few hours, your beefy hunk of a boyfriend stealing every chance to grab your face, sweep your breath out of your lungs like it's nobody's business and go back to goofing around with his bandmates.
Fuck him.
Bucky's fingers curl around the glass of scotch easily, an arm languidly wrapped around your waist. His ring covered knuckles graze past the hem of your shirt to trickle on your waist, chuckling to something funny that Torres says, absently pulling you closer to his chest.
If you get any closer, you think you'd burst. Bucky knows it too- that little shit. He deliberately wets his lips, thumping the glass on the table with a 'clank' and spinning it till it reaches a point away from the edge of the glass surface. Sam's warning of "Watch it, Barnes" goes ignored as your boyfriend steels his eyes on yours, trailing his gaze downwards, from your lips over to his hands.
Oh damn.
Bucky fumbled around a little, pretending to search for something. Discretion flies out of the window as he shifted you on his lap, nestling you into his chest possessively and grinning as you yelp when your ass lands over his erection.
Way to go, Buck.
You've barely made through the shock of his boner poking through your pants, an airy gasp spraying out of your lips when you find him nonchalantly twirling a drumstick in his hands.
His palm stopped hovering at your waist, streaking forward and splaying over your stomach, crushing you against himself.
"What are you doing?" You whispered, accidentally moaning as his erection brushes the inside of your thighs. Your lips are under assault again, but this time it's your teeth tucking them in, faint lines of embarrassment perfuming your face as you cuddle closer to him, your eyes never leaving his hands as he flips to drumstick around.
"Having fun, kitten."
If this moment was taped and edited, those papery pink dews would definitely be sprayed all over it, because you both looked that part- mushy lovers who cannot get their hands off of each other. If the tape was given to your friends, they would add some devil's horns and vampire red eyes or have smoke come out of your heads because they knew what little shits you and Bucky were. Especially when you were sitting this close and you were a few shots in.
Your friend group called such moments 'The horny bitch hour'. These annoying little fuckets that you loved so much would place bets on who would snap first, who'd drag who to the first empty space, who'd be the first to be loud. And damn, your drummer had some interesting gambits in these situations, his skilled fingers and twitching lips orchestrating ways to get under your skin, both figuratively and literally.
You were fuming today. The early December chill and your discarded jacket didn't hold two cents to the heat storm erupting in your body. Every teasing touch of Bucky's fingers, every testing lick placed on your skin, each perfectly timed swipe of his knuckles along your neck had your skin burn in electrical flames, the cozy atmosphere your best friend had tried to create sweltering to a blue hot raze. Bucky Barnes worked like that. He had you dripping between your thighs with one look, your nipples erect with one graze of his knuckles down your side.
You sucked in a gasp, chest heaving as your fingers shakily cover your drummer's, his long fingers magnetizingly hot under yours. Bucky's tongue was tracing his lips again, a lock of hair dangling in front of his face. He didn't quite stop his conversation with Steve, dropping the drumstick and cuffing your hand under his, intertwining your fingers. With a sly smirk thrown your way, he brought your hand up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around your index and sucking it without a shame in the world.
"Bucky," you gasped, huffing before you grit your jaws together, shuffling back and grinding on his lap.
"Kitten," he retaliated, having the nerve to give you an innocent enough smirk
"Stop it." You tried to sound like you mean it, voice leveled and steelier, your attempts at dominance working.
Bucky stopped on command. His eyes glinted a little sharper, your hand rising to play with the collars of his leather jacket as he gave your finger a final suck, innocently popping it out of his mouth. Another dizzying grin thrown your way. Another attempt to grind you against his erection. Another subtle flex of his arms as he shifted in his place, spreading his thighs. Another smile throwaway smile granted to you before he was grabbing his drumstick and twirling it around again.
"Your word's the law here, baby girl. You make the rules."
Fuck. Him.
You were done.
You were glad Elena lived just a few blocks away, the December chill and Bucky's arm tightly wrapped around your waist being the only reason you hadn't jumped his bones right against some streetlamp or on the road itself. You had your eyes fixed on the little light spraying out of your bedroom, one which you had very conveniently forgotten to switch off, knowing you would both be stumbling inside haphazardly, attacking each other with a flurry of hungry lips and teeth and tongue.
So that's how this is going to be.
"Hey," Bucky started, drawing out his words, a little slurry from the alcohol and despite your indignation, you found yourself grinning.
"Hey, stranger," you started, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. Before things could get filthy, though, Bucky pulled back, smacking another kiss at the corner of your lips before giving you a once over.
"You should come through tonight. You seem like fun. I got drinks. Drums. Toys. The good stuff." He added a wink and you burst into a laughing fit, giggling against his shoulder.
"You're inviting me to fuck you?"
His grin remained, eyes darker, boring into yours intently. He inched his hand from your waist to your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles before he tugged it down, baring your neck to him. He breathed down your throat, coming impossibly closer and smirking at your hitched breaths, his tongue tracing a curve from your collarbone up to your jaw. He pressed his lips to your earlobe, growling low.
"We both know who's gonna be begging to get fucked tonight." He takes your earlobe between his teeth, biting lightly.
He can fucking wish.
Bucky had barely twisted the key in the keyhole, the door barely open and a streak of light streaming out, when you pounced.
It wasn't graceful, it wasn't on point. You hadn't even realized you were drunk till you were bouncing on your feet, your head in the clouds and vision dizzy as your boyfriend tried to steady you, bringing you crashing down to his chest and stumbling backwards at it.
Bucky grunted as you almost ripped his leather jacket off his shoulders, your nails digging into his chest through his tee as you shoved him inwards. Your drummer grinned, easily spinning you around and kicking the door shut dismissively behind him. Before you could pull him down for a kiss, he spun you around again, dipping you down and crashing his mouth on yours.
You grabbed for the collars of his jacket, finally doing away with the offensive material keeping you from your man before you were grabbing his face. You stumbled backwards, blindly letting Bucky navigate you to the bedroom before you felt his hands cup your ass, metal fingers running down from the crack of your ass and swatting the back of your thighs.
You yelped, feeling the corners of Bucky's lips lift in a condescending smirk as you inhaled sharply. Flesh fingers pinched your chin and lifted your face up, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth and exploring every corner, devouring your taste and leaving you breathless. He pushed you towards the bedroom door, his body slotted against yours, movements melting into one as he unzipped your jeans, the fuzzy material of your sweater already bunched up midway through your chest.
Just a second before giving in, though, something in you snapped. Your eyes shot open, landing on Bucky's hands, the beautiful black and gold caressing the underside of your boobs, and it's warm pair journeying all across back, slipping past your jeans and cupping your ass.
Why does he get to have all the fun?
He had spent the evening teasing you, didn't he? He had you on the edge all through it, your thighs clenching and panties destroyed from the heated stares and lustful touches. The groping, the kisses. What should have been a wholesome evening between friends turned out to be you hypnotized by that god annoying drummer you adore so much, panting and heaving and biting back moans as the boys throw back shot after shot, laughter and giggles and scoffs running around the room.
This was your time now.
How you both ended up on the floor was something you had no idea about, nor did you possess the imagination to think of how you both had stumbled down, an entangled mess of limbs and half-discarded clothes which you tried to roll off of your skin, your lips pulling you towards the other.
The carpet burned against your knees as you scampered over to Bucky, ripping his shirt off of his shoulders before you pushed him down, straddling him.
"Woah, kitten." A string of curses escaped Bucky's mouth as you wasted no time in pulling his jeans down his hips, his cock slapping against his abs as you pulled his boxers down harshly, cutting off his swearing with a heated kiss.
"What, is it too much?" You tease, panting against his mouth as he kissed you hungrily, cold fingers curling around your wrist. He pulled your fingers away from where you are marking up his abs, angry red lines springing over his skin entrancingly. You slappe his hands off, pinning him to the carpet by his broad shoulders before running your lips filthily over his pout.
"I make the rules, don't I?" You cooed, looking menacingly at your drummer, drinking in the sight of him, all veins and muscles and metal- pure perfection, sprawled under you. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped down, hissing out a gravelly "fuck" before his hands hover over your waist, a charming smirk on his lips as he shrugs.
"Use me all you want, babygirl."
That's what brought you here. Bucky's cock locked in a cock cage, your thighs convulsing as his hands held on to your calves, your head thrown back with each furious lick of his tongue over your pussy, your juices running all over his face.
You had dragged him into your room, pushing him down to the bed and swallowing his giddy smirk as he allowed you to outpower him, complying as you asked him to. You teased his shaft, kissing the tip of his cock and pumping it before bringing it into your mouth, your drummer's slow smirk slowly fading as his face contorted with pleasure. He had his lips tucked between his teeth, his metal hand in your hair as you guided his length to your mouth, the veiny girth pulsating under your fingers, precum wetting your hands. You took him in your mouth, slowly, methodically, the months of training your mouth to take him entirely paying off as your beefy boyfriend groaned above you.
Then, to give him a taste of his medicine, you pulled yourself back, letting his cock jump out of your mouth with a pop. Bucky's disbelieving glare amplified when you took his metal hand, which remained frozen cold around this time of the year, and wrapped it around his shaft. When he was groaning in disbelief and flaccid enough, you smirked devilishly, clicking the cock cage around him, straddling him all over again.
Your lips pressed to every part of his neck, your teeth marking their trail against his throbbing pulse. Your fingers ran all through his back as you rode his arm, your mewls turning into shrieks as the metal whirred under you, the vibrations deliciously drumming against your pussy and making you wet in a way only Bucky could manage to do it.
You rode his abs next. "Use me." That's what Bucky had said, and you, you were his good girl. How could you not listen to what he says?
"You like this, don't ya?" Bucky chuckled as you whined and groaned, his fingertips denting your waist as you spluttered and crushed the sheets under your fingertips, a familiar coil burning in your stomach. Your thighs burned from rocking against his skin, his cold arm lingering over your breasts, your nipples tingly and popped up from all the suckling it had been subjected to.
Bucky groaned under you, his abs glistening from your wetness, a layer of sweat and musk and sex perfuming your room. You gasped and heaved, your breasts swaying over his face for him to tease, covered with just as many hickeys and bites as you had scattered all over his chest, your hair all fuzzy from his constant tugging.
You might have been the one on top, and Bucky might have been the one with a cock cage, groaning and cursing each time he moved, but you both knew who was in charge.
"See the mess you've made on me," Bucky hummed as you placed both your hands on his chest and fell forward in a heap, a spike of pleasure burning down your spine at the narrow brush of his fingers on your clit. He cupped your face, tenderly swiping a matted coil of hair away from your cheeks before capturing your bottom lip in his mouth, his neck arching to chase your lips as you try to sit up. "My filthy little kitten."
You moaned into his mouth, resolve breaking as you give in to the temptation of his lips. You cursed as he sucked your tongue with eager lips, his hand brushing lightly over your throbbing clit, your juices dripping into a wet patch in his chiseled abs.
"C'mere." Bucky grunted, cuffing the back of your neck and pulling you away from him. A veiny hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he gazed at you like you were some goddess for him to corrupt and ruin, before it slid down and wrapped around your throat. "Do you wanna cum tonight?"
The pressure on your jugular increased as you nodded your head, a condescending smirk sent your way as his flesh hand travelled down your spine and smacked your ass, five fingers burning over your skin.
"Sit on my face then. We'll see how much longer you can stay on top."
Bucky smacked your ass again, lifting you up and dragging himself over to the centre of the mattress. You rested your cunt on his face, a loud shriek tearing out of your lips as he harshly sucked your clit, swiping the flat of his tongue all through your pussy lips. You almost lost balance, his strong arms curling around your ankles and supporting you as he slurped your juices, picking up everything you could offer, feasting on you like you were the sweetest desert he would ever get.
"Stay still for me." He smacked your ass again, his growl rumbling against your cunt as you spasmed, your face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up your pussy, his tongue sliding into your hole and pressing on the walls. You tried grinding on his mouth, your quest for control long forgotten as you let Bucky and his skilled tongue rip you apart, your breast bouncing as you held onto the headboard, crying out in pleasure and wanting to be good for him.
He licked circles over your cunt, your mouth open and a string of drool streaming out, your voice hoarse from all the screaming you had done. Your neighbours might as well be calling the cops from all the cursing and moaning and screaming that you had done, and you wouldn't find it in yourself to care. Your mind burned and crashed around, all fuses snapping as everything just descended to Bucky, his hands, his lips, his tongue.
"Daddy!" You yelled out when he inserted a finger into your hole, his tongue repeatedly flicking your swollen nub. You could feel his chuckles vibrate under your cunt, your stomach coiled and mind blank, thighs clenched from the intense buildup.
"Daddy, now?" He hummed appreciatively, plunging another finger into your slick hole and massaging your walls, the cold of his touch sending a jolt through your spine. "Thought you were in charge?"
You whined as he mocked you, his lips curled in the most admonishing and arrogant smirk ever, and you could feel it despite all the tears and pleasure he was giving you. And you liked it. You liked your cocky asshole of a drummer when he was being mean to you. When he was manhandling you around, displaying you as his object of affection. When he was boasting about you. When he was playing with you.
"Fuck me, daddy." You whined out, shrieking as he inserted two more fingers into your hole, stretching you out.
"Look at that pussy." He started, tapping his thumb on your clit in sharp strokes, each one sending a shiver through your body. "Sucking my fingers so greedily. Kitten, you're so damn needy for me, aren't you?"
You only moaned, your legs shaking as your orgasm approached closer.
"But I can't fuck you. Can't please my pretty pussy here." Bucky lowers his voice to a whine, an indignant alarm in your head shrieking off "yes you can!"
"You got me in this," he must have gestured at something, that stupid cock cage. "So no fucking for you."
"The key. Take it!" You shrieked, half delirious. Your drummer had stopped his assault on your pussy, his words and their gravelly texture being the only friction you got as you sat perched over him, mind half snapped and too intoxicated by the pleasure you were missing to care for anybody else.
And then you were being tossed around, you body suddenly pressed to the pillows, your beefy boyfriend hovering over you, that goddamned smirk all over his face.
"Can I? You're still making the rules, baby."
You groaned, close to crying or probably biting his nipples or something just as crazy.
"Just do it. Fuck me. Show me you've got something."
That was a little much, wasn't it?
The darkened eyes, the clenching of jaws, the straight line which his lips had turned into, all of it indicated you had taken this too far. This was too much fun for you to back off now, and you were positive you wouldn't be able to walk for a while now.
The metal hand curling around your throat indicated just as much, the jiggling of metal in your peripheral missing your eyes when Bucky swooped down and caught your lips in a bruising kiss.
"I'll be showing you a lot tonight, babygirl. It'd be a show you never fucking forget."
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writing-for-marvel · 2 days ago
Keeping Me Up Again
Neighbour!Bucky Barnes x Reader
< < PART 1 | Series Masterlist
Summary: You can’t sleep when your attractive neighbour has nightmares.
Request: @samantha-lefay - original request here & @foreverandevermoresworld wanted a Bucky cuddle story
Warnings: mentions of sex, nightmares, fluffy ending
Word count: 1.3k
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist
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You woke to the sounds of grunts, whines and the thrashing of bed sheets coming from the other side of your very thin apartment wall.
Great. Your stupidly attractive neighbour, who you may or may not have a huge crush on, was getting some, and you were subject to listening to the affair. Just how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.
Not being able to stand the envious feeling churning in your chest at the carnal noises coming from next door, which were too loud for you to get back to sleep, you went to make yourself some hot chocolate in your kitchen.
In the week since the jazz music incident (which is what you had referred to it as in the group chat with your friends who were now encouraging you to go for it with your hot neighbour), you had barely interacted with him. You listened to the 40s music he recommended, and informed him of your preferences, but he was yet to get back to you with any more suggestions.
Maybe you misinterpreted the rose which he left on your doorstep the next day. It seemed like a romantic gesture at the time, but he then failed to start a conversation with you when you were both checking your letterboxes a day later, and it was you who mentioned listening to all his album recommendations later in the week.
The groans were only slightly less audible from your kitchen, and showed no signs of letting up. Opening a drawer, you pulled out the box of earplugs you purchased throughout the week just in case Bucky’s music got out of hand again.
You were about to put them to use when you heard it - a terrified, bloodcurdling scream which shook the entire apartment complex. And it came from Bucky’s apartment.
The hysterical wail immediately elevated your heart rate and had the hairs on your arms standing up - it wasn’t sexual in nature, it was the cry of someone who was frightened, petrified.
“Bucky?” You knocked incessantly on his door. “Bucky, please open up!” It was only when he stood bedraggled in front of you after opening his door that you stopped banging. He didn’t say anything, unable to directly meet your eye line, above all else looking ashamed.
“Are you alright? That scream… I thought you were being murdered in there! I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
The sweat dripping from his brow, disheveled state of his hair and the self-conscious expression on his face had you questioning ever knocking on his door, you’ve just interrupted a one night stand and he’s now dying of embarrassment.
“I’m fine, it was just a bad dream.” He brushed off, going to close the door before you stuck your hand out to stop him.
“Just a bad dream? Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone scream so loud in my entire life. If there’s something I can do, please tell me.” Your voice was distressed and you could see in his eyes that he noticed. His hand instinctively reached up to grab his dog tags, holding on for dear life as if they were the only thing stopping him from letting out another pained scream.
“Doll, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.” And with that he shut the door.
How could you sleep now? His yell ringing in your mind. Remembering how thoroughly terrified he sounded, how his knuckles turned white as he clutched his dog tags, grounding himself.
Guilt flooded your chest. What if his jazz music was what calmed him enough to be able to rest, and you had yelled at him for playing it? Then it hit you that he was now sleeping in his bed in contrast to on the floor last weekend. You wondered if that contributed to whatever turmoil he was experiencing.
Sleep eventually overcame you, but on the other side of the wall, Bucky lay awake the entire night, too scared to fall into a deep sleep again in fear of what his mind would show him in the vulnerability of his subconscious.
The next night you could feel Bucky’s nightmare building all the way from your apartment - the increasing groans and abrupt, harsh movements in his sheets. You laid awake, anticipating the scream which you knew was coming if you waited long enough.
A sense of déjà-vu washed over you as you knocked on Bucky’s door, his recent yells echoing in your mind and throughout the complex.
When he opened the door, Bucky looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept properly in a month. His eyes were sad, and from the pleading look he gave you, you could tell his walls had crumbled, he needed help, your help.
“Bad dream?” You knew it was, you heard it first hand from through the thin wall, but there was something inside you which wanted confirmation before entering his home uninvited again. He nodded and opened the door wide enough for you to make it past him, into the apartment.
You wasted no time in hugging him, standing on your tiptoes so you could wrap your arms around him, pulling his head into the crook of your neck. His arms encircled your waist before he let out a weep so miserable and helpless that it brought tears to your eyes.
“Shhh.” You soothed, rubbing his back, feeling his sobs reverberate through you. “It’s going to be alright, I’m right here, nothing can hurt you now.” You weren’t sure if you fully believed that - someone’s own mind can do severe damage and it would be next to impossible for you to prevent it, but you would do everything in your power to protect him from any evil, especially his own demons.
You held him until he stopped crying, insisting he drink some water to prevent him developing a headache and to take a shower to wash the sweat from his body.
Before entering the bathroom he made you promise to stay, and you were more than happy to oblige. It was almost 1:00am when he got out of the shower, grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist, chest bare and hair damp. He gave you a warm smile as he recognised the Jimmy Dorsey music playing on low volume through your phone speaker.
“If you’re uncomfortable with this, say the word and I’ll leave.” The mattress dipped under his weight as he laid down beside you.
“Please stay.” His voice was soft, but sure.
This wasn’t how you imagined getting into bed with Bucky for the first time, but what you envisaged didn’t matter right now, all you wanted was to comfort him, to mitigate his fear and torment enough for him to drift to a peaceful sleep. A warmth spread through your chest at the thought that he trusted you enough to let you in, to alleviate his pain.
“What do you need from me?” There was a brief pause as he thought, contemplating what he should reveal to you, what he should ask of you in this vulnerable moment.
“Can you hold me?” And hold him you did. Your arm slotted under his, hand resting on his strapping chest, pulling his back into you, your leg sliding between his. In this position you could feel the slowing beat of his heart and the movement of his chest with every breath. He was still slightly wet from the shower, but it didn’t stop you from nuzzling into the taut muscles of his back.
It didn’t take long for Bucky to fall asleep, as if the physical contact and protection provided by you had driven every wicked thought away. He looked like he found solace in this peaceful sleep, his eyes flickered around behind his lids, dreaming happily, mouth hung half open as he lightly snored.
You would willingly fall asleep next to him every night if it meant Bucky could find tranquil sleep. Damn, this crush on your gorgeous neighbour might be getting a little out of hand.
Permanent taglist: @imagining-harrypotter @tripletstephaniescp @hoeforthefictional @moonshooter @steverogerswifesblog @yliumy @p0tterhead934 @asgardwinter @demonpoxballad
Bucky Barnes taglist: @thechoosenonecreator @claudiaatje @badassbaker @starry-night-20 @samthemarvelfan @erynnnn @gitasor @popeheywardssecretgf @sebastiansleftkidney @rxccie
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mox-writes · 2 days ago
Trailer Fever. (Sebastian Stan x Reader)
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Warning: 18+, smut, smut, smut. Knife play, blood play, domination, m/f orgasm, p in v, oral (female receiving), light choking, mouth gag, mentions of cuts and bruising, all consensual.
Word Count: 2,561
Pairing: dom!Sebastian x Reader
Summary: You and Sebastian have rough sex in his trailer on the set of Destroyer. Just smut, that’s all.
A/N: something about Sebastian Stan in Destroyer makes me absolutely feral, so here’s this. As per usual, crossposted on moongoddessmox. Excuse any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone and briefly edited it on my computer.
Sebastian grazed his fingers up your arm, tingles and chills surged through the spots he touched. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his lips gently brushed against your skin, his hot breath teasing you and making you throb. His short hair was prickly against your cheek as his lips found your shoulder, kissing it with wet lips and sliding a tongue along the bone. Sebastian’s hands felt their way down your sides to the front of your body, diving into your pants and tracing your slit through your panties.
You tipped your head back, pressing it against his as you moaned. He slid his lips up to your neck and you turned your head to kiss him. Sebastian’s tongue licked across your lips and you allowed him entrance. Your tongues collided and you deepened into him as much as you possibly could. His mouth was warm and wet and blended with yours in a passionate embrace, one people dream to experience once in their life. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to get to kiss him like this every day.
You pushed your ass against his crotch and teased him, rubbing it around slightly feeling him get harder through his jeans.
“Naughty girl, you know better than that, ” Sebastian’s voice was low, almost a growl, and so intimidating. If you hadn’t liked his consequences for being a tease, you might actually be scared.
You smirked against him, flashing seductive eyes into his piercing blue ones. He bit your lip, pulling on it, leaving a cut and blood behind. The rusty taste filled your mouth as he flipped you around so that your body was facing him and your naked chest was pressed to his. He was ripped, the product of the movie he was filming. His dusty jeans hung low on his hips and his V was very defined. You moved a finger up the crease of one side and watched him buck his hips as it tickled him. Sebastian let out a laugh that could have been mistaken for a grunt, and tangled a hand in your hair, gripping tight and smashing you to his mouth again. He tsked and nodded disapprovingly such a tease. Your hands ran over his shaved head; you didn’t usually like buzz cuts, but something about Sebastian was different. He could pull off anything.
“Like the new hair?” He smirked. It was the first time you were seeing him with it. Today was the first day of filming and you had been waiting in his trailer for him to get it cut. When he walked in, it was like a primal desire rushed through you, you wanted to attack him with kisses until he fucked the living daylights out of you.
“You actually look really fucking hot, ” you breathed heavily, still panting from his kisses. His smirk only got bigger, his eyes dark with lust. He kissed you again, squeezing your face in his hands; you could almost feel all the lust radiating from his large body. His scruffy face scratched yours but you pulled him closer. Sebastian picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, his erect member pressing into your crotch. You wanted to release him, feel his tip brush lightly at your clit until you allowed him entrance to fuck you raw. This look of his brought out a whole new brand of desire in you, you felt insatiable and you hadn’t even fucked him yet.
“Fuck me, Sebastian, please,” you begged. You couldn’t wait any longer. He gripped your thighs until his nails cut into the skin, little beads of blood formed and you knew there would be bruises later but you didn’t care. The sweet sting only added to your pleasure and seeing little bits of blood on Sebastian’s hands turned you on. His lips were stained red from your bleeding lip and your heartbeat felt like a thud. Sebastian threw you on the bed in his large trailer and stripped down. His perfect, muscular, naked body was starting to become shiny from the humidity you created. His cock was fully erect and ready to pound into you. You untied your pants and Sebastian tugged them off, discarding them somewhere behind him. His lips kissed up your thighs, biting, licking, and sucking the soft skin.
As he got closer to your dripping warmth, your legs twitched in anticipation. Sebastian’s eyes looked up at yours and you watched him chew on your legs. The sight made you hornier than ever. With each nibble and bite, the heartbeat in your eager pussy got harder. Sebastian’s tongue licked the crease between your warmth and thigh like he was eating a large ice cream cone. The feeling of him so eager to taste every inch of your body made you moan. You stroked his head, unable to grip his hair with the new style. This made you pout, you loved grabbing his hair and navigating him where you wanted, where you needed. He noticed and shot you a smirk.
“Aw baby, nothing to grab onto anymore?” His voice was sultry and alluring. Your pout got bigger and he laughed softly, sliding up your body, his nose tracing your skin. He met your gaze, scruffy face right in front of yours. Sebastian’s role had him looking like a biker, the fake tattoos that adorned his beefy body were such a sexy sight. He looked like someone who would do coke off your body and if you were into drugs, maybe even regardless, you’d probably let him. Sebastian gripped your face and kissed you, his tongue battling yours as the passion grew. His left hand took your wrists and pinned them above your head, his large fingers wound tightly around you as his other hand slipped between your folds. You instinctively thrust your hips against his fingers and moaned into his mouth. Sebastian hummed, his fingers slick and moving fast.
“You’re already so wet, huh baby?” He moaned against you. He slipped one finger into your entrance and curled it around. You writhed underneath him, wanting so much more but knowing if you begged too early, he would only delay it more. Sebastian could tell how much you wanted him to fuck you, he loved seeing you so eager for him. A smirk formed on his lips again, swollen from your kisses and still red from the blood. He stuck another finger in, feeling your walls and pumping vigorously. You cursed at the feeling and tried to close your legs as it got to be too much. Sebastian stopped, pulling his fingers out and sucking on them. He pushed one of your thighs down and held it with his knee then pushed the other and held it against the bed.
“Keep your legs open, naughty girl” he growled, forcing your legs to stay apart. You loved how dominating he could be, how he took control and took what he wanted, knowing you wanted it too.
“Are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers or not, darling?” He questioned in a dark tone, his voice gruff and hungry. You only nodded, unable to speak as you watched him. Sebastian furrowed his brows and smacked his hand against your pussy, you winced and instinctively tried to close your legs again but he had you pinned down.
“Use your words, baby girl.” You loved this side of him. He was such an adorable teddy bear most of the time, blushing at any small praise and singing and dancing around the house. But this side, this side of him was dark and rough. This side would spank you until you were raw and edge you until you blacked out. Sebastian slapped his hand down again, the pain tingled through your core and you loved it.
“Don’t make me ask again, ” he bit your neck then sucked on the spot to soothe it. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” He growled.
“Yes, please, yes,” you moaned.
“Yes, what? ”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” That was all he needed. He dove his fingers back inside of you, thrusting hard and fast, curling and fucking you until your eyes watered. Sebastian panted softly as he pumped inside of you, the feeling of your dripping warmth making his cock harder. He wanted to ravage you, to suck on your pussy until your eyes rolled back. He watched your face, pleasure tying you up in knots, fully pinned down and exposed for him. Your moans filled the room, sweet music to his ears as the sound of your wetness mixed in. He knew it wouldn’t be long before you came, desperate to feel you gush around him. You squeezed your eyes shut and started cussing profusely, hips bucking forward as your walls tightened around his fingers. Sebastian kept his pace, not wanting to lose your release. It only took a few more seconds for you to burst onto his hand, coating his soft fingers.
Despite his current gruff look, Sebastian had soft and smooth hands, perfect for the daily massages he gave you. They were a reminder that no matter how rough he got, he was still a big softie who wanted nothing more than to take care of you. You rode out your orgasm on his fingers until your body stopped twitching. He left your pussy and licked his fingers, moaning at the taste. Sebastian kissed you deeply before releasing your wrists and traveling down to your swollen clit. He sucked and licked up every drop of you and soothed your sore pussy. His tongue entered you and you watched him thrust gently, diving his face into your warmth and back out again. His eyes met yours. What a beautiful sight, seeing him buried deep into you as his blue eyes watched your face twist in pleasure.
Sebastian sat up, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. He pulled your ass in the air and spanked it. You flinched and let out a gasping moan. You felt him press his cock against your ass, teasing you as he leaned forward, his chest against your back. He hummed hungrily in your ear as he rubbed against you. You pushed yourself into him, closing any gap and inviting him in. Suddenly you felt the cool touch of metal against your skin. Sebastian had a beautifully designed dagger he loved to tease you with. Something about him dragging a knife along your skin made you feral. Just like when he played a cop in another role and had you suck on his fake pistol. You didn’t know what it was about weapons, maybe you were just so emotionally damaged that you loved the idea of being threatened, but you loved when he’d dominate you with them.
This knife, however, was quite real and quite sharp. One little flick and you’d have a perfect slice in your skin. You didn’t mind it, the pain only added to your pleasure so you loved it when he’d make little cuts. Nothing more serious than a cat scratch or paper cut, but it made you delirious. Sebastian brought the knife up your ribs very carefully, not wanting to actually hurt you, and not wanting to make any mark without your clear consent. The cold blade scraped down your shoulder and arm leaving behind goosebumps. He brought it up to your cheek and you stayed perfectly still, seeing your eyes in the reflection. He teased the sharp edge against your skin then brought it back to a place that would be easier to hide. The blade crept across your hip and he pushed in, ever so slightly, until you told him he could go all the way. As soon as he had that consent, he pressed the knife harder until blood trickled down it and dripped down your thigh. You moaned as he used the dull side of the knife to scrape up the blood before it hit the sheets, smearing it against your back like jam on toast.
Your knees spread further apart as you pressed your stomach to the bed and opened up against his crotch. Sebastian made another little slice on your hip and caught the blood again until your back was spotted with splotches of red. He leaned forward again, putting the knife back in its cover and pressing it into your mouth as a gag. You moaned around it, unable to swallow properly so you dribbled a little against the leather sheath. Sebastian pressed his cock against your vagina and bit your ear.
“What color are you, baby?” He asked in a whisper. You used the color system so he knew if you were still comfortable with everything being on. Green for keep going, yellow for slow down, red for stop. He pulled the knife from your mouth so you could speak.
“Green, Sebastian, so fucking green.” You were desperate for him. As the words fell from your lips, he shoved himself into you with a groan. You moaned into the leather that he held back in your mouth. His cock filled you up to your max, despite being wet, you were still tight and filled to the brim. You moaned uncontrollably as he pounded into you, so rough yet so caring. His right hand left the knife and gripped your hip, squeezing the cuts he made and getting covered in your blood. You winced and gripped your teeth into the sheath and closed your eyes. His panting became louder and more erratic as his cock slammed into you. The pleasure rocked through his body as your ass slapped against his skin.
Sebastian’s left hand came around your neck, gently squeezing your throat as he pounded, never losing pace. The combination of his cock, his hand on your cut hip, and his other hand on your throat was making you crazy. You felt yourself becoming delirious with pleasure. Tears dripping from your shut eyes, pussy pouring down his cock and the inside of your thighs, and knots forming in your stomach. With a few swift, rough slams, Sebastian was pressed heavily against you, moaning loudly as he shot warm cum into your vagina. He pushed into you as hard as he could as he emptied. When you felt the warmth of him, the knots in your stomach released and you squirted everything you had left onto his thick thighs and cock, flooding the bed beneath you. Sebastian pulled out and sat on his heels for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he helped you turn over. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you watched him climb on top of you. He laid soft kisses on your breasts and collarbone, leading up your neck and cheek until he met your lips in a passionate kiss.
You stroked his prickly short hair as his face laid on your shoulder, his soft side coming out again as he nuzzled into you.
“I love you so much baby,” you kissed the top of his head. He looked up at you with that adorable smile, the complete opposite of the rough sex you just had. You were so madly in love with him, your heart felt like it might explode just from the look he was giving you.
“I love you too darling, let’s get you cleaned up.”
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stucky-my-ship · 16 hours ago
Chapter 1
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Summary: Natasha and Wanda book Y/N a Christmas trip as an escape from her uneventful love life while Sam and Steve book Bucky a trip to get over of his break up. (Modern AU)
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: mention of cheating
Word Count: 1.7K
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Y/N and John Walker had been dating for about a year before she ended it recently. She didn’t fall out of love with him, he just thought they were in an open relationship. He had been cheating on her throughout the relationship.
That was five years ago.
She was now sitting in her living room watching “How The Grinch Stole Christmas”. Her two roommates, Wanda and Natasha, had just arrived from their Christmas gift shopping for their co-workers. They were always very early with the gift. They believed in the system ‘if you don’t get to it first, someone else will’.
They placed the gifts on the kitchen counter and stared at Y/N. she was dressed in all sweats with a messy up-do, munching on chips, popcorn, different candies, while drinking her red bull energy drink.
“Isn’t that cute?” Natasha said which made Wanda laugh. Y/N looked at her roommates and with a mouth full of popcorn and chips, she asked, “what?”
Wanda suddenly jumped up and down while clapping with a smile on her face, “oh! Oh! Do you know what she needs?!” She asked Nat excitedly. “What?” Natasha asked curiously. She wanted to help her friend get out of her dry spell. Wanda then leaned to Natasha’s ear and whispered her idea.
Y/N saw how Natasha’s face lit up and immediately knew she wouldn’t like the idea. Whenever one of the whispered something to the other and their face lights up, she knew it was going to be something she wouldn’t like. She knew that from experience.
Natasha nodded fast at Wanda. “Okay, let me stop you guys there. I am not going to go out to a party. I am not going to meet a guy. And I most certainly am not leaving this couch.”
She turned back to the TV as Wanda and Natasha looked at each other with a defeated look on their faces. But they won’t let her stay like this. She has to go out. She can’t live her life hiding from the world.
Natasha composed herself and stomped over the the living room, grabbed the remote control, and turned off the TV.
“What the fuck, Natasha?!” Y/N explained. “You have been cooped up in this apartment since you and John broke up. It’s been five years, Y/N. You have to move on!”
“I am!” Y/N defended. “How?! You have never ask a man out, you never say yes to a man when he asks you out. Wanda and I even tried to set you up with women because of how unattracted to men you seemed!”
“She has a point, Y/N.” Wanda said from the kitchen. “Actually I am moving on. You would be happy to hear that I had a sex dream about Ryan Reynolds last night.” Y/N said, happy with herself. Natasha just stared at her friend and shook her head.
“Listen Y/N. We’re going to do what’s best for you which is for you to go out and have fun. Plus, Christmas and New Year’s is coming up. Don’t you want a boyfriend to be with you during that time? You love what you do on the holidays and the last five years you didn’t seem to enjoy yourself.”
Wanda had a point. Every Christmas and New Years, Y/N wouldn’t really look forward too. Even though she had a smile on her face, it wouldn’t be as big as when she was with someone. She loved sharing the holidays with someone she loves and who loves her back. She knows Wanda and Natasha love her but she wants a love that’s more than friends.
Y/N sighed and told them, “alright. I’ll go take a shower and get dressed and we can go to the club.”
“Actually not what I had in mind.”
Y/N gave them both a confused look. “We have decided to give you a vacation from this place. We are going to book you a trip where you can enjoy yourself, not think about John or watch any of these old boring movies. “And who knows? Even meet a guy.” Wanda explained
“Yeah. Good luck with that one.” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.
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“Ughhh.” Bucky groaned in his bed. His face was smashed into the pillow, drool forming a wet circle on his pillow case. He was laying on his stomach and his limbs spread everywhere.
His bedroom door suddenly opened and an annoyed looking Sam stood there. “If I hear you groan one more time, I’ll give you something to groan about.”
“Give him a break, man. He just got out of a relationship.” He heard Steve’s voice yell from the living room. “Just?! She broke up with him 3 weeks ago! He need to go to the bar and hook up with someone.”
“Not everyone is like you, Sam. Some of us have it rough.” Bucky mumbled into his pillow.
Steve walked into the room, sat by Bucky’s head, and sighed. “Alright buck. You need to go out. Doesn’t have to be for anything. Just like a walk in the park. Out in the snow. Get some fresh air.”
“Tried that last week. Didn’t work.” Bucky mumbled. “Maybe this week is the week. Maybe today when you go out, you’ll feel so much better.” Steve tried again. “Doubt it.” He mumbled again.
Steve sighed. He looked at Sam, who was motioning with his finger to follow him.
Steve patted his friend on the back and went to Sam, where he was waiting in the kitchen. “We got to something, man. Bucky hasn’t been the same. He barely gets out of bed to shower anymore.” Steve informed Sam.
“Tell me about it. Ever since Dot did what she did, he’s become this thing that lives on the bed and washes the pillow covers with drool. He doesn’t do his own laundry. I keep having to take out his dirty underwear from the floor and clean them. I’ve been doing it for 3 weeks and I can’t take it anymore!” Sam ranted. They never talk about what Dot did to Bucky. She seemed like such a nice, kind-hearted woman. But she was the devil in disguise.
“He shouldn’t go out in New York. He should go somewhere else. Like a different state. Or even a different country.” Steve suggested. “I remember he always wanted to go to London but he never got the chance to. He wanted to take Dot but I told him it was too early in the relationship to travel to another country together.”
“Anyways it’s like she would let him take her to London. ‘Why don’t you take me to a fancier place baby? It’ll be more fun and classier than those posh people’.Don’t think she even knows what posh means.” Sam imitated.
Later that night, Steve and Sam walked into Bucky’s room and to no one’s surprise, he was in the same position. “Hey bud.” Steve peaked his head into the room. Bucky just mumbled something they didn’t understand. “Hey, so listen. Sam and I have been talking and we think you need to get out of here.”
Before Bucky could mumble some incoherent word, Sam added, “and it’s not clubs or a walk on the street. It’s a vacation. To London.”
Bucky looked at them from the corner of his eye. He always wanted to go to London. Steve sighed. “Listen Bucky. It hurts me to see you like this. Maybe this could be exactly what you needed. Go. Get some time to yourself. Come back as our Bucky. Please.” Bucky knew his friend was worried about him but he didn’t know how much. He sighed and nodded. “Good because your plane leaves tomorrow night.” Sam said Better exiting the room.
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The next night, Natasha and Wanda had dropped off Y/N at the airport. “Alright, have fun. But not too much fun. We don’t want to get a surprise when you get back.” Wanda joked. “Alright, then I guess I won’t bring back a guy.” Y/N shrugged sarcastically. “No! You better bring someone with you! And she meant pregnancy but you better meet someone there.” Natasha said.
“I thought I was going to London to move on and get a fresh start once I come back?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That too.” Wanda added.
“Alright. Bye you guys.” The girls hugged each other tightly and waved each other goodbye as they went their separate ways. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement flow through her. She was happy she agreed to do this.
After Y/n checked in, she felt a little hungry. She checked into the lounge, got a plate, and filled it up. She got a drink to help wash down the food.
After a few moments, she heard someone ask, “excuse me. I’m sorry but is this seat taken?” She looked up from the phone and saw a handsome brunette with the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes. She shook her head no. He put his things near the chair, sat in it, and took out his laptop. She looked around the lounge to see that it had been filled up.
After a short while, the woman on the intercom spoke, “attention all passengers for flight XS0569, destination London. The plane is now boarding, gate 12. Attention all passengers for flight XS0569, destination London. The plane is now boarding, gate 12. Have a safe flight.”
Y/N and the brunette got up at the same time and went towards the gate. “So to London, huh?” He asked. “What are you doing there?”
Before she could answer, he sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t need me butting into your business. I’m sure I sound like a creep like I’m going to follow you around London. I swear I’m not.” Y/N laughed and assured him, “no it’s fine. I’m going there for vacation. My roommates actually planned this for me.”
The man nodded and smiled, “my roommates, too. I got out of a relationship recently and according to my roommate, I’m a slob.”
They both laughed. Once they got their ticket checked, they made their way through the jetway to the door of the plane. The stewardess told them their seats and as they walked through the aisle, he said, “I hope to see you around.”
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thenhewaswrongaboutme · 2 days ago
my hands have made some good mistakes: part 12
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!OC reader insert
Summary: “Can we talk about it?” Elle asked, but she spoke over Bucky when he shook his head. “No, actually, we’re going to, we need to talk about it because if we don’t, you’re just gonna keep spiraling like this.”
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. smut, oral (m receiving), outercourse, angst city over here, *emetophobia warning* but it’s brief and not explicit
Word Count: 6.5k
a/n: Thank you all SO MUCH for your comments, reblogs & support. And........ I’m sorry
Find me on ao3: dewystars
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Bucky felt like jelly when he stepped off the elevator, all wiggly and shaky and soft. Treadmill workouts and blowjobs both had that effect on him, so it only stood to reason that he would feel extra floppy on days he had both. 
Elle had been serious about wanting to make him feel good all the time— and she was delivering in spades. 
The other night he jolted awake when a surge of hormones rushed through his body, making his breath hitch as he lay stock-still to stave off his  simmering orgasm. He couldn’t fucking believe it. This never used to happen to him, he was a hundred goddamn years old, not eighteen, for Christ's sake— he was not going to come in his pants untouched while he was lying in bed next to Elle. He refused. She would hear him, shit, she would feel him, feel his hot cum wet-patching against the thin fabric of her panties— 
Bucky couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming about, or if he had even been dreaming at all, but he had Elle’s sleeping body pulled back against his chest and his right hand up the front of her shirt. He didn’t dare move as he tried to calm himself, but his cock throbbing threateningly against her ass must’ve woken her up— or maybe it was his husky, quick breaths against her ear. He expected her to scoot away in disgust but she didn’t look back at him, didn’t even say anything as she pulled down her panties and reached back to tug him out of his shorts. She guided his cock between her upper thighs and for a moment he thought she was going to slide him inside of her— this wasn’t how he wanted it to happen, but at this point he was too far gone to resist— but she only squeezed her thighs around his length, coating him in her arousal— because oh, fuck, she was so wet— she must’ve felt him, must’ve heard him and she liked it—
He throbbed again at that but remained frozen, uncertain of what he was supposed to do— but when she pushed her hips back against him and he felt that intoxicating glide against her sweet skin, he figured it out real fucking quick. He gripped her hip to keep her steady as he thrusted, picking up pace and he knew it wouldn’t last long, not with how close he was to coming before she even touched him— the tip of his cock peeked out from between her legs with each thrust and oh, fuck, she was circling her fingers around her clit and she was shaking, her thighs clenching tighter around him until she— she was—
Bucky came with a muffled shout, releasing thick ropes of cum against Elle’s skin and onto the sheet in front of her. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, return his heart rate to normal, and Elle didn’t move when he eventually pulled his softened cock away from her. She had already fallen back asleep, not even bothering to clean up or put her panties back on.
And today, just this morning she had intercepted him on his way to the shower with an arm around his waist, pulling him close to speak into his ear. “Hey, Sarge,” she said, her voice unexpectedly sultry considering she had just spent an hour singing along to terrible pop music while she burned their food. “You gonna get off while you’re in there?” 
Bucky’s face flushed— he didn’t think he’d ever get over that, talking about it so brazenly— but he nodded. That fucking purple conditioner was still in the shower and he couldn’t resist the smell. It would be all he needed to push him over the edge after he spent his whole breakfast watching Elle’s tiny shorts ride up her thighs while she danced. But Elle’s lips were against his before he finished nodding, open mouthed and determined. She pressed him back against the wall before dropping to her knees. 
“What if I help you out first?” she asked, her breath hot against his stiffening cock as she placed a chaste kiss to it through his shorts. 
She reduced him to a blubbering mess in no time— every time his muscles started to clench, every time that heat pooled in his belly, ready to simmer over, she would back off, slow down, take her mouth off of him completely. 
“Baby, please,” he choked out as he clenched his fists at his sides, “I wanna come.” Elle just licked one long stripe up his shaft and tongued the fresh bead of precum from his slit— it wasn’t enough to send him over the edge but it was enough for his knees to tremble, to make him thankful for his back against the wall. She smiled up at him, an infuriatingly saccharine smile that seemed to taunt him, tell him she knew something that he didn’t— and then he tangled his fingers into her hair, rougher than he meant to because his muscles were so tight—
“There he is,” Elle crooned in a tone Bucky didn’t recognize. “C’mon, Sarge, show me how you want it.” She opened her mouth, her pink tongue poking out over her lower lip as she looked up at him, waiting.
He was hesitant at first as he held her head steady, only pushing in a few inches past her lips. But she closed her eyes and moaned around him, and when Bucky saw her slip her hand into her shorts, quickly circling her clit, he felt the hunger, the need to chase— just like she wanted. 
“Shit, you’re amazing,” he breathed as he pushed into her mouth harder, finding a quick rhythm. Elle used her other hand at his base as a stopper so he wouldn’t go too deep, wouldn’t have to worry about controlling himself and he moved Elle’s mouth on his cock faster as his muscles tightened yet again. “Baby, baby, ‘m gonna come so soon. Shit, I— please, I need to come, sweets, please.”
Her face contorted with pleasure, her moans muffled by his cock and that was it— his legs shook as he spilled down her throat, grunting with every pulse. Elle could only hum as he fucked her throat though his orgasm, the head of his cock bumping against her constricting walls as she swallowed around him. “So good,” he panted. “So fuckin’ good for me.”
Bucky went to the gym that morning with sugar-scented hair and a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face.
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Bucky held his thumb to the biometric scanner outside their apartment, but the click of the unlocking door was drowned out by the sound of voices inside. Normally that wouldn’t warrant a second thought, just Elle watching a movie or listening to music, but this time something was off— he knew that voice. 
The voice sounded electronic and slightly muffled, like he was on speaker phone, but there was no mistaking that it belonged to none other than Steve Rogers.
“We’re grateful for the opportunity President Ellis has granted us, and we appreciate everyone’s support through this next chapter. Bucky Barnes is more than just my best friend. He’s a good man, and I hope that with time you will see that, too.”
It didn’t make any sense. Steve was using his Captain America voice, and why would he talk to Elle like that, like he had to convince her to trust him? But then another voice spoke and Bucky was instantly unmoored, rushing out to sea with the deck swaying violently under his feet. He was dizzy, seasick—
It was him. Bucky heard his own voice. 
His hand shook as he cracked the door open and peered inside the apartment. 
Elle was sitting on the couch with her back to him, her eyes glued to the TV. And Bucky was on the screen, dazed and squinting into the camera flashes. 
He remembered that day clearly; the press had been relentless. They weren’t allowed in the courtroom during the trial so they ambushed him on the sidewalk as soon as he stepped outside, hungry for details. Steve recited the statement he had prepared, all shiny and diplomatic and safe, and that held them off for a little while, but those vultures weren’t satisfied. They were there for Bucky, after all, and they weren’t going to let him escape without taking a bite.
Bucky was dressed in the all-black suit Stark had procured for the occasion. Professionally tailored and with matching gloves, because maybe people would be more sympathetic if they couldn’t see the hand, the visible evidence of who he really was. He was clean shaven and his long hair was combed back neatly, but his face was gaunt, his cheeks hollow— he hadn’t been eating, he remembered. He hardly ate for weeks because he couldn’t keep anything down, not when he was spending each day listening to the grisly details of the lives he had ruined, the destruction he had caused as the fist of Hydra. 
The verdict made sense, really.
Reporters were flinging questions at him left and right, not giving him time to answer before asking another, but one question in particular stuck.
“Sergeant Barnes, this was a very controversial trial. Do you think the outcome is fair?”
Bucky stepped too close to the mic, prompting a screech of feedback, and blinked stupidly at the cameras. His eyes were puffy and red, the bags underneath them so severe they resembled bruises. Was the outcome fair? Yes and no. Yes, he agreed with the guilty verdict. He deserved to sit in a cell and rot, tortured day and night by the images of what he’d done. The unfair part was the pardon; that part he didn’t deserve. But he knew better than to say that, and settled on what he thought was a safe answer.
“That’s not for me to decide.”
But the press exploded into flashing lights and more roundabout questions. They had a field day with him, twisting his words and pulling more quotes out of context, and the next day the headlines read WINTER SOLDIER DOESN’T DENY GUILT. 
On TV Bucky’s breaths grew visibly shallower, his eyes unfocused because suddenly instead of reporters, all he saw in the crowd were the bloody faces of his victims, of his handlers when he dared to fight back, he could feel blood dripping from his own wretched face— thank god Steve was there to grab him by the elbow and drag him into the safety of the hired car. Bulletproof and with blacked out windows, he remembered, in case of retaliation.
The TV screen switched to a female news anchor at a desk. “James Buchanan Barnes, the Avenger formerly known as The Winter Soldier, received a presidential pardon after being found guilty for his crimes against humanity, including but not limited to treason, kidnapping, torture, and murder.”
A choked sort of noise escaped Bucky’s mouth before he could stop it, and Elle finally noticed he was standing at the door. She jumped up and spun to face him, her eyes widening with panic when she saw his face. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, and if Bucky looked anything like how he felt, she had. He had been frozen in the doorway but he stumbled backwards because her gaze on him was excruciating, thousands of scorching cigarette burns eating through his skin, into his chest— 
“No, Bucky, don’t—” But he was already out the door and running.  
Elle scrambled around the couch, chasing after him. “Barnes, get back here—”
The elevator wasn’t safe, wasn’t fast enough, so he flung open the door to the stairwell and kept running. Down, down, down, three steps at a time, catching himself on the railing whenever he stumbled. It was hard to see, so he did stumble— 
He ran until he reached the bottom of the stairwell, fifteen floors down but it wasn’t enough. The door cracked into the wall when he slammed it open but he kept running, only stopping when he found himself in the middle of the gym. He looked around frantically, panting— he needed to leave, needed to get out, needed to hide but he couldn’t. He was trapped in this prison of a building and he didn’t know what he was doing, where he was trying to go, how he was going to escape this mess. 
Bucky looked down at his shaking hands. Instead of black metal he saw silver, the plates dyed rusty with old blood even as fresh scarlet dripped down his fingers. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he took off again, sprinting toward the gym bathroom and into a stall— he collapsed against the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left, but even then it didn’t stop, not until he was gasping for breath and his face was damp with sweat and tears. His stomach was still lurching feebly when flushed the toilet, wiped his hand across his forehead and rubbed at his red eyes. The plastic stall divider was unforgiving as he leaned back against it, shivering from the cold sweat that had broken out across his body.
It was all a lie, and now she knew. This whole time he’d been pretending, an Oscar-worthy performance as someone else, a character he’d made up: Bucky Barnes, the honorable war vet, the resilient POW, the innocent man. But Bucky Barnes had blood on his hands. No matter how hard he tried to wash it away, to scrub it off of his skin, it would always remain. 
How foolish he was to think for even a moment that he deserved anything but a jail cell and ice.
A door clicked shut in the distance and Bucky paused his ragged breaths to listen to the slow patter of cautious footsteps on the matted gym floor. They were moving toward the bathroom and he pressed his back against the wall, greedily sucking in oxygen like the fool he was because it didn’t matter, he was caught. His legs were too shaky to stand, he couldn’t get away, he couldn’t run—
“Bucky?” Elle’s voice was barely a squeak, tiny and stricken with worry. Her footsteps stopped at the threshold to the bathroom. She didn’t want to come near him, she was afraid of him and for good reason— “Bucky? Can I come in?” 
He gulped and nodded slightly, but Elle didn’t move and he realized she couldn’t see him. He scooted out of the stall, still leaning against the divider for support, and cleared his throat. “Yes.” His voice was strained, raw from the onslaught of acid.
Her socks padded across the tile floor— she hadn’t bothered to put on shoes before chasing after him— and she rounded the corner to where he sat crumpled on the floor. Weak. Sweaty. Pathetic.
Elle stopped a few feet away and carefully lowered herself to the ground, her legs folding in front of her. Bucky didn’t like how far away she still was— it wasn’t normal, it was wrong and there was a buzzing in his nerves, a longing for her touch. But he wasn’t allowed to feel that anymore— he needed to snuff it out, to shove that desire down under the surface.
“I’m sorry,” Elle whispered, as if speaking at full volume would scare him, like it would make this worse. She was treating him like glass, her dagger-like gaze full of concern and he couldn’t fucking stand it. “I just had the news on for background noise, and they started talking about Steve and the tour so I sat down— I don’t know why they played that clip, I swear I didn’t go looking for it—” She reached for him but he left her hand stranded in the air between them, his own hands clenching at his sides. 
Another wave of nausea washed over him and he breathed in slowly through his nose to combat it. Elle sat quietly, waiting for him to speak but he felt waspish, buzzing and metallic and poisonous—
“So now you know,” he finally spat out when the venom in his blood boiled over into his words. He risked a quick glance up at her. “Was it a surprise?” 
Elle’s brows were furrowed, forming soft lines across her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you surprised to find out you’re living with a monster?” A sickening realization dampened into his chest, spreading an embarrassed flush across his cheeks. “Or did you always know, and you’ve just been doing this out of pity? Or— fuck—”
A new fear took root, entrenching itself in his brain— he didn’t know how he’d been so blind, how he’d been so gullible as to believe anything else. “They put you up to this, didn’t they? Stark or whoever, Pepper, Steve, they’re paying you to pretend, right? To keep me happy and calm and sedated while they’re gone, so I don’t go crazy, so I don’t hurt anyone else?” He ran his clammy right hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in pure distress. 
Elle sat back and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath to compose herself as she searched for words. “You think they’re paying me to do this? What the fuck, Bucky?”
He laughed, a humorless sound that made the hairs at the nape of his neck stand straight. “You can’t argue it, sweetheart.” The term of endearment was caustic on his tongue. “You’re an employee. And I was stupid enough to—”
Elle rose to her knees and almost reached for him again, but stopped herself when he glared at her. She wrung her hands until they were white, tugging and twisting the skin. “No, Bucky, please— where is this coming from?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s a lie,” he said.
“I swear it’s not,” she said quietly. “I mean, this,” she gestured to the room around them, the building, “is a job. Yes. We know that. But this,” she held her hand out to him again, “isn’t. This is me. Please tell me what’s—”
She kept speaking, but Bucky wasn’t listening; it didn’t matter, he realized. Even if this was her, it wasn’t him— “I should’ve told you earlier,” he muttered. “Should’ve told you in the beginning.”
“Told me what?” Her eyes were pleading.
“I’m a liar. I’ve been lying to you.” His low voice was full of vitriol. “I was selfish and I lied and it got out of hand— I should’ve stopped it but I’m greedy and I— I felt normal for the first time since—” He paused to exhale slowly. “And I’m a good liar, you know?” He was. A greedy, insatiable liar. “I started to believe it too, let it get to my head, let myself think for a second that maybe I deserve this, but you—” he took a shuddering breath. “You don’t even know who I am.”
The words spilled out of him like rot seeping from an old wound, but Elle kept shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard the reporter.” Her words were a track stuck on repeat in the back of his mind— treason, kidnapping, torture, and murder. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the flesh of his thighs, surely hard enough to bruise, but still not enough to quell the terror that was seeping into his bones.
“I— I don’t know why they played that clip, you looked so sick—”
“Eleanore, stop,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Elle’s face blanched at his use of her full name. “You heard what she said about the trial. About me being found guilty. And now you know what I’ve done, you know who I am, and I can’t pretend—” 
Treason, kidnapping, torture, and murder. A faint ringing had started in Bucky’s ears, quickly growing louder as his heart rate barreled toward top speed. Bucky pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing harshly to try to stop what he knew was coming. 
Elle looked at him like she was struggling to understand. “Bucky, it’s fine, it’s—”
Bucky tried to speak, tried to inhale, but he choked when the breath caught in his throat. His nose flared, his chest constricted, but his throat was too tight and he turned away, covering his face as he coughed and sputtered. The edges of his vision blurred but he still saw Elle lunge toward him, still flinched away from her touch. His shoulders hardened, an impenetrable exoskeleton as he wheezed but Elle wrapped her arms around them anyway. This absolute imbecile, coming toward him when he was trying to explain how he— how fucking fitting that he’d die by asphyxiation— 
Elle squeezed him so tightly that even if he had been able to breathe before, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to now. Either she was stronger than she looked or he didn’t have the oxygen left to fight her off, but his eyes fluttered shut and he gave in, shut down, let the tide pull him under. It was too easy, drifting off like this, a convenient way out for a coward like himself. Elle breathed slowly, pulling deep satisfying breaths as if to mock him—
A rasping gasp echoed through the room and Bucky’s eyes flew open when the rush of oxygen went straight to his brain. “There he is,” Elle whispered, so quietly that he wouldn’t have heard it if her face wasn’t pressed against his cheek. He sucked in haggard breaths like a man starved, surrounded by and consuming that faint sugary scent that was so familiar to him now. His pulse slowed as she breathed her sweet reassurances into his ear, and it was nice, being able to breathe—
Something tickled Bucky’s face and he instinctively touched his hand to his cheek. He wiped away a streak of moisture and hurried to dry his other cheek, so Elle wouldn’t see— but she pressed her lips to his cheekbone and he softened as he leaned into it. But he could still taste the acid— he turned his face away from her and kept his mouth aimed down. “Don’t,” he croaked. “I was… my breath…”
Elle pulled back slightly and looked at him, looked at where they were— still on the bathroom floor— and nodded, understanding. She dropped her head to rest on his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair instead, combing through tangles, massaging at his scalp. Bucky sighed and his eyes closed again, and for a moment everything was normal.
How dare he. Bucky didn’t deserve her comfort, how could he even think— his breathing started to speed up again, tiny little gasps that hiccuped in between his metered breaths. Elle’s fingers stilled and she lifted her head, glancing at him quickly before shifting her gaze to the room around them. 
“I haven’t actually been down here before,” she said. “It’s pretty nice.” Bucky nodded his head forcefully, grateful for her voice, for something to think about. She was right. The neutral colored tiles and soft lighting were more fitting for a spa than an underground gym. One wall was dedicated to a backlit mirror, the row of sinks with cabinets underneath seemingly an afterthought, and another wall was covered with biometric lockers. Around the corner were the private showers stocked with luxury products that brands always sent in, hoping for publicity. 
Elle carefully disentangled herself from Bucky— he was instantly untethered, the threads holding him together fraying— and stood. She brushed her palms against her jeans and Bucky shivered, almost calling out to her when she walked toward the sinks. 
She opened a cabinet, fished out a hotel-size shampoo sample, and brandished it at Bucky. “You know most of these don’t even get used, right? They just end up in a landfill.” Bucky shook his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Yeah, it’s super fucked up. Hotels with just throw them out when you leave, even if you didn’t use them— I mean, the bottles end up in a landfill no matter what, which is fucked on its own, but wasting hygiene products that could help so many people is a different type of barbaric—” 
Bucky didn’t follow. Elle was making a mess, products spilling out onto the floor as she dug through rolled-up towels, deodorant samples, all of those mini shampoos and body washes, until— “Ah, here we go.” She emerged with a fistful of single-use toothbrushes, the kind that came wrapped in plastic with toothpaste already loaded inside. “Don’t even get me started on these,” she said as she placed all but two back into the cabinet. She crossed the room and stood right in front of him, looking down. “But they’re already here, yeah?” She offered him a soft smile, and her hand. “Would be wasteful to not use them.”
A dizzying warmth spread through him when he finally realized what she was doing. It was the same as when she made obscene amounts of breakfast for him every day, and when she distracted him with video games and movies. It was just like that night that seemed so long ago now, when she tripped over him in the hallway and stayed with him, and the night when she faced his nightmares head-on in his bed. It was the same as when she held him, and when she told him to go back to therapy. She took care of him, she was always taking care of him, treating him with nothing but kindness even when he hated himself the most.
His fingers clasped around hers and he hefted himself to his feet. He let her lead him to the sinks, watched as she unwrapped a toothbrush and handed it to him. To his surprise, she opened a second one for herself. 
“Have you used these before?” she asked, and Bucky shook his head. “They’re kinda freaky,” she said. “It’ll lather up when you put it in your mouth. Never could figure out where they store all that toothpaste.” She inspected her toothbrush closely then shrugged, wet it under the faucet, and started brushing. Bucky followed her lead and she was right, the lather that filled his mouth was off-putting, but he pushed past it. When they were both finished he rinsed his mouth and turned to Elle. She beamed up at him with her freshly cleaned smile, and he tried to smile back but it felt all wrong, it was too forced, he couldn’t shake that brewing feeling of uneasiness—
Elle was so good. So good to him, always kind, always taking care of him, but he didn’t deserve it— it was a lie. His knees buckled slightly and he grabbed the edge of the sink to catch himself. He was falling for it again, believing in this fantasy but she still didn’t know—
“Hey, whoa. Barnes?” Elle leaned toward him, her wide eyes watching the way the sweat beaded on his forehead. 
“M’fine,” he grunted out, his fingers digging into the porcelain so fiercely that it cracked. His muscles were shaking, tingly and tight, he couldn’t stand— “Just… tired,” he forced out, and he ungracefully sunk back down to the floor. His chest was tightening again and he closed his eyes, fighting to keep his head above the surface. There was a pressure on his vibranium hand— Bucky’s eyes snapped open to see Elle sitting next to him, both of her hands gripping his left. 
“Can we talk about it?” Elle asked, but she spoke over Bucky when he shook his head. “No, actually, we’re going to, we need to talk about it because if we don’t, you’re just gonna keep spiraling like this.” He could tell from her tone that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. He winced, because she had never forced him to talk, never pushed, but now… Her voice was quieter, gentler when she continued. “What are you so worried about?” 
“You’re going to change your mind,” he said simply. “You treat me like this because you don’t know me, and when you do know you’ll leave, or stay but treat me how I deserve and that’d be worse, probably—”   
“Nothing’s gonna change,” she said. “And I’m not going anywhere.” A flurry of sensation traveled up his left arm when Elle squeezed his hand tighter, a scathing betrayal from his own body. Nothing should make a weapon feel that good; no wonder he had let himself forget.
“You will when you know the details.” He stared down at his jeans.
“So tell me,” she said softly. He could feel her watching him, searching for his eyes. “Let’s find out, one way or the other, because staying in limbo like this is gonna kill you.”
He didn’t want to, he couldn’t— but he let out a shuddering breath and nodded reluctantly. She was right, of course.
“The arm,” he said, and she gripped his hand tighter as the plates shifted nervously. “I told you how I got it. The old one, I mean.” Elle nodded. “They kept me after— between the arm and the serum, I— they called me the asset. I was a weapon, I murdered—” Elle’s eyes grew wide and she sucked in a breath because of course she was horrified—
“Shut up, Bucky, stop— If this is a confession, we need to get married right now so I can’t testify against you.” One of her hands left his to pull her phone from her pocket. “Let me Google someone to—” Bucky cut her off with a shake off his head and the tiniest huff of disbelief.
“No, no.” It wasn't a confession— not a legal one, at least. “I’ve already been pardoned. This whole thing, us staying here locked up, is part of the pardon conditions. I don’t know how they got away with not telling you that.” He glanced up at her eyes but quickly looked back to the floor when he realized he actually didn’t want to know her reaction to that.
He took another shaky breath. “They called me the asset,” he repeated. “The Fist of Hydra. I was special to them, so they kept me under cryofreeze except for when they needed me— when they used me to—” He choked again, his voice catching in his throat. Talking about it in court had been hell, but he’d rather testify a thousand more times if that meant he wouldn’t have to recount his sins here in this bathroom. 
“I can’t say it, Ellie,” he whispered. “Please don’t make me say it.” 
“I need to know.” Her voice was quiet, still so kind but he couldn’t face her. He wouldn’t be able to get the words out because Elle shouldn’t have to hear them, all the awful details of the things he’d done. He couldn’t be the one to tell her. But maybe—
“Can you read about it?” he pleaded. “About me? There’s websites… articles. I know you didn’t want to before, but. Please. Can you read so I don’t have to say it?” He finally met her eyes and was surprised to find them glistening. She sniffed.
“…Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” she whispered shakily. “Should I just search your name?” He nodded and she unlocked her phone, typed his name into the search bar. The links that came up made his head spin. 
He didn’t realize he was gasping again until Elle yanked her phone out of his view. She quickly scooted around so that she was behind him, her back pressed up against his. “I’m right here,” she said, and the rumble of her words in his chest centered him. “Just look straight ahead.” She settled in, her weight shifting slightly when she pulled one knee up and rested her arm against it. 
Bucky didn’t know how long they sat there. It felt like days passed, and no time at all. Could’ve been an hour, could’ve been five; it all feels the same at the end of the world. He was terrified, of course— he tried his best to keep his breaths slow, to swallow back the bile that rose because he didn’t want Elle to worry. But there was something calming about it, too. Elle lulled her head back against his shoulder while she read and he breathed deeper, cherishing these last moments of contact because at least he didn’t have to fight anymore. At least he knew it was over.
After what felt like an eternity Elle huffed, a small indignant noise. “This is so fucked up,” she muttered, and he almost scrambled to his feet, almost ran because yes, it was— “I can’t believe they talked about you like this.” Her low voice trembled, but not with fear— “How anyone could draw those conclusions from these facts—” she was gaining steam— “It’s fucking bullshit. How dare they.” She moved against his back like she was trying and failing to convince herself to stay seated. “And the jury— what the fuck?” 
“…Did you read—”
“Oh I read everything, Bucky, I found everything.” She couldn’t fight it then— she stood and spun around to face him. Her face was flushed. “Interviews, your Wikipedia page, the transcript from the trial. And I don’t know how anyone can look at the facts and see you as anything but a victim.” 
“But Ellie, did you read— I know they’ve got lists of everything—”
“Yes. I read how you were experimented on, left for dead, tortured.” Bucky winced as Elle counted each painful item off on her fingers, but she was too busy pacing back and forth in front of him to notice. “Brainwashed, enslaved, abused— did I mention left for dead?” Her breath shook when she exhaled, a poor attempt at self control. “They failed you at every turn— Hydra, of course, but the army, too, the government, Steve should’ve found you—”
“Don’t bring Steve into this,” Bucky muttered, his head down. “He did the best he could.” His sincerity made Elle pause her rampage; she stood in front of him and took a deep, slow breath. 
“They— the reporters, the government, I don’t know— they want people to think that you’re some cold, calculating monster because it takes the blame off of them. If they can pretend like you deserved it then no one will stop and ask them, where were they? How did they let this happen?” Her hand trembled when she gestured to him with her phone. “You carry so much guilt that isn’t yours,” she said haltingly, tears welling in her eyes. “And I am fucking furious at everyone who allowed this to happen.” 
She didn’t see it, she didn’t understand— “You’re missing some key fucking details here, Eleanore. I’m a murderer, a weapon—”
“Exactly!” Her voice wavered, the tears threatening to spill. “You were the weapon and who was pulling the trigger?” 
It was so quiet that Bucky could hear the air conditioning in the vents, the electricity running through the walls. “You’re not the monster, Buck,” she continued. “They are.” 
She caught his eye and he almost had to shy away from the intensity of her stare; she held her chin up defiantly, her green eyes glistening with fire and tears. Bucky had seen that look before, but not from her— from Steve, all those times that he had fought for Bucky when Bucky didn’t want to fight for himself.
But no. He deserved his verdict. He deserved to be punished, and he hated that even the tiniest part of him believed, wanted to believe, what Elle was saying. A dull pounding started in his head; he had never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel-toed boot that was pressed to his neck all those years, forcing his hand, and the idea that maybe— maybe—
The voice that left his mouth was cold, robotic. “The blood is still on my hands.” 
“Okay.” Elle held his gaze, unmoving. 
“What do you mean, okay? It’s not fucking okay, it’s—”
“This man that you’re telling me you are, this— monster you seem to think you are. I’ve lived with you for months now and I’ve never seen him. At all. I’ve only seen you. Barnes. Sarge. Bucky. You’re a good man. You are sweet and kind and selfless— and—” 
Bucky interrupted her, his voice louder now because somehow she still wasn’t understanding. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He rose to his feet and looked down at her— she was smaller like this, less intimidating.
Elle stepped forward, closing the space between them, and narrowed her eyes defiantly. “I think I know better than you do.”
Bucky had to laugh at that, a harsh, cruel sound that made him turn away from her even as he did it. He crossed his arms in front of him and shook his head. “Eleanore, I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” She stepped toward him again, but he moved back just as quickly, keeping an even distance between them.
“I can’t do this,” he hissed. “We can’t do this.” 
“Why not?” Her eyes flickered back and forth between his, searching for an answer that he gave no hint to. He’d been trained to be unreadable, after all. 
He saw the tears in her eyes, saw how she was trying desperately to hold them back. But as much as it made his heart clench, he couldn’t stop the ice flowing from his mouth, the decades of self loathing and shame culminating into one short sentence. 
“Go upstairs and pack.” 
The blood drained from Elle’s face, but he pushed on. “You need to go. I’ll call…” He hesitated— who would he call? Not Steve, god, no. Steve would never understand, or worse, he’d take Elle’s side and try to stop him. Calling Stark would be efficient, he’d get Elle replaced in no time but he’d undoubtedly be cruel about it. Bucky deserved that but Elle didn’t, he couldn’t let that happen— “Pepper. I’ll call Pepper and get this handled.”
Elle opened her mouth but no sound came out, and her teeth clicked together when she snapped it shut again. The glistening confusion in her eyes told Bucky what her words couldn’t, and it made him wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole. But of course it wouldn’t, that would be too easy, a merciful ending he did not deserve. Instead he had to watch Elle’s heart break from three feet away, knowing he was the cause.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her own body and sniffled before she met his eyes again. Her eyes were red and puffy but this time when she opened her mouth it worked. But it was wrong, it wasn’t Elle’s sweet voice, it was something scathing and hardened— “For someone who’s trying to convince me he’s some mastermind assassin, you really are an idiot sometimes,” she said, and walked out. 
Bucky Barnes was a monster, and he just proved it to one of the only people who had believed otherwise.
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wonderbreadbucky · 2 days ago
Where It Blooms - 3
Bucky Barnes x F! Reader
reader needs to be protected at all costs, bucky would find you reading instructions interesting, steve is a nosy little brother, and the team loves reader very much
Chapter Description: You and Bucky get closer as time passes at the Compound. You're determined to help him catch up on everything he's missed, and he could listen to you for hours. But, one morning you aren't yourself and when Bucky talks to the team, he learns why.
warnings: mentions of depressive episodes, and nightmares. this is the calm before the storm. next chapter made me cry writing it guys
Word Count: 3,493
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As the weeks passed, you and Bucky have gotten closer. No one in the compound really expected it, surprised to find you two sitting on the couch as you talked about the show you were about to have him watch because “It is a capital crime to never watch ‘The Nanny’, Bucky!” That’s how the days went. You often stayed back from missions unless you were absolutely needed, per Tony and Steve, so you were a constant for Bucky in the compound. He would help you cook, which was another surprise for the rest of the team, because when you were cooking it was your kitchen, and anyone in there would be chased out with a wooden spoon. Thor learned that lesson too well after trying to sneak a taste of that week’s team dinner. To this day, he claims his knuckles still hurt from where you smacked him.
During the day, he often followed you around, helping you with minute tasks around your greenhouse and garden, claiming that he was interested in learning more about gardening, and in the evenings you both camped out on the common room couch, watching movies, and television shows, or just talking. Sometimes you sat in silence, books in both of your hands, sprawled across the couch. It was calm, and Bucky liked it that way.
One evening, you were rambling on about the music that he had missed, the decades of hit songs that he needed to hear. Your eyes lit up in excitement, and you leapt to your feet.
“C’mon, Gramps. Time to get you educated.” You offer your hand to him, and slowly, he takes it. You pull him up with a force he didn’t expect from you, and you pulled him to the elevator. Even in the elevator, you didn’t let go of his hand, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. He felt heat creeping up his neck at your closeness. Even after the weeks of growing closer, he was still flustered by your presence. That boy from Brooklyn and his lady-killing charm were nowhere to be found now.
When you reached your shared floor, you pulled him again, leading him toward your room. You opened it quickly, and only then did you let go. You walked in as he stopped, taking in the room around him. It was light, and open. Any open space adorned with plants and books, the stacks crawling up the walls like the vines beside them. Your walls were white, like his, but they were hidden behind pictures, travel posters, post cards, all plastered across the walls as if they were wallpaper. Your bed was large, covered with pillows, and blankets that looked so soft that Bucky’s hand almost reached out to touch them. He heard you shuffling something around and turned to look at you. You were knelt down flipping through something when he realized that what he was looking at before wasn’t even the half of it. In the center of the room was a living space. An old, eclectic couch sat at its heart. Two arm chairs at to one side, and on the other was a love seat. Large pillows were scattered on the floor, blankets draped on every seating option there. Side tables that sat lamps were littered with notebooks and plants. The wall across from your bed was covered by bookcases, stacked taller than you were, sat more books. CD’s, DVD cases, and VHS tapes were on the lower shelves, and in the middle of it all was a fireplace, and a television mounted just as his. You were looking at something on the bottom shelf when he finally decided to take a step in.
“Aha! This!” You stood up, holding it out proudly to him. It was a record, worn from its well loved years. “I absolutely have to show you this, it’s one of my favorites!” You bounce in your spot and Bucky smiles at this. You move off to the side and open the record player. It’s older, not one of the ones that became so popular in the revival of vinyl because “They can warp the record, Bucky!” And as you put the album on, strumming fills the room. You move over to him excitedly, pulling him in further and closing your door. You motion to the couch as you curl up onto an armchair.
“Rumours, Fleetwood Mac. It’s a cliché favorite, I know, but I grew up on this, and I want you to hear it!” You smile at him, and he smiles back. How could he not? He would listen to anything just to see you smile at him like that again, even that electronic music that he and Steve heard some man playing on the streets of New York that one time. He hated it, but if you wanted to listen to it, he’d deal with it for the rest of his life. You sat in silence as you both listened to the songs on the album, only moving to flip the record over. As the last song ends, and the player clicks to a stop, you look at him expectantly.
“Well?” You ask him, a tinge of nervousness slipping through at his silence.
“I… Really liked it.” He says with a smile.
“Really.” And with that you quickly join him on the couch.
“I’m so glad you liked it! You can really feel the emotions in the music. I mean, two of their members had been married, and then divorced after eight years, right? And two other members went through a really nasty break up and had written songs for this album about each other! Isn’t that crazy? I mean-“ And you went on and on, not that Bucky minded. Seeing you so happy brought a warmth to him that he didn’t know existed anymore. He watched as your eyes lit up, brows furrowing while talking about how dramatic the break up’s were, voice lowering as if the singers were right across from the two of you. You stopped suddenly. He looked into your eyes, and saw you smiling at him softly.
“You’re staring. I did it again, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble, I just get really excited sometimes-“
“No! I mean,” Bucky clears his throat. “I like listening to you.” You stared at him with wide eyes. “I think it’s amazing, how passionate you are. I like listening to you talk about this stuff. And the staring, you’re really adorable when you get excited.” Bucky blurted it out before he could overthink your reaction. The blush bloomed across your cheeks furiously, and you were convinced Bucky could feel it. You looked down, fighting back a smile. Bucky didn’t know whether or not he over stepped a boundary, but when you looked up at him, he felt that warmth all over again.
“Thank you, Bucky.” You spoke softly, a smile gracing your words.
“Anytime, Y/N.”
A silence fills the room, it’s not tense or unwelcome, it’s soothing, like all silences are with you. Bucky usually hated silence, it left him with his thoughts far too often and he favored the dull roar of a fan in place of it. With you, he loved it. He felt as if he could relax, let his guard down for once enjoy your presence. He could feel the heat of your skin from how close you had moved to him in your rambling, so close that if he moved his arm, he would graze yours. He shifted in his spot, to test this theory, and just that happened. He swore he felt a spark when he touched you, and his logic told him it was just static cling from the myriad of blankets surrounding the two of you. What he didn’t realize was you felt it too, more than just static. It stirred something inside of the two of you. You coughed and moved to the shelves again, trying to slow the thrumming in your chest.
“Okay, I showed you an album of mine, what’s one you like?” You shuffled around, carefully placing the record back in its casing and moving to flip through the records on the shelf. He stood up, knowing he shouldn’t have tested the waters with you. He stood away from you a bit, and looked at your collection. You really did have a bit from every decade.
“I’d rather listen to more from your favorites.” Bucky spoke carefully. You look at him shocked, and go to object. “I can’t, I can’t really remember much, just little flickers here and there of that time of my life. I want you to show me more of your music.” You close your mouth quickly, and give him a smile, and a nod. In a moment, music is flowing through the room, and you move to sit back down on the couch, patting the spot next to you. He sits quietly, not wanting to scare you off again. You turn to face him, making yourself comfortable.
“So, how’s your stay been so far?” You smile at him, and he feels himself relax.
The night goes on, you two talking about anything and everything. When he doesn’t have much to say on a topic, you take over. He watches you as you speak, your hands moving to enunciate every point you make.
It’s only when you begin yawning that you check the time. “Oh my god, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I’m so sorry!” You stand quickly, going to put away your records. Bucky stands awkwardly, and you turn to face him. “You must be tired, I’m so sorry!” You walk toward him.
“No… No it’s fine, I enjoyed this.” He clears his throat. You smiled up at him, and motion for him to follow you to the door.
“Maybe we can do it again, then.” You look to the floor, and look back up at him. He smiles at you softly.
“I’d like that.” He moves to stand in the door, facing you. Your smile is soft, and he swears he saw your face redden underneath your hair. You cough and look up at him.
“Then we’ll do it.” “Good.” “…Good.” A warmth spreads through him at your words. And with that, he slowly backs into the hall.
“Goodnight, Doll.” Bucky smiles at you.
“Night, Bucky.” You softly close the door. He sighs contentedly, and turns to go to his room, when he sees someone. Steve stands, a ways down the hall. His hand is on the handle of his door, and he looks at Bucky with wide eyes. He takes a step towards him as Bucky moves to his door.
“Steve…” Bucky warns. But, this doesn’t stop him. He only picks up his pace and Bucky fumbles with his door to avoid the inevitable interrogation from Steve. “Steve, no!” He’s too late, as right when he goes to close his door, Steve jams his foot in between the door and the doorjamb. He quickly pushes his way through, and walks with a swagger that tells Bucky right away that he’s in for it.
“So…” Steve drags on, flopping down on the couch. “You and y/n?” And when he looks at him, the smug smirk is prominent.
“We’re just friends.” Bucky groans out.
“Friends, huh? Friends who hang out in each other’s rooms? All night?” Steve lifts a brow at him and Bucky rolls his eyes so hard that they could get stuck.
“She was showing me music, albums I missed.” Bucky dismisses it quickly, sliding his shoes off and making quick work with his socks.
“So you’re just friends, who sit in each other’s rooms all night, just… listening to music?”
“There was talking, too.” Bucky takes his belt off, adamant to change into his pajama’s and go to sleep, hoping Steve takes the hint and leaves. But, it’s Steve, and of course the hint flies right over his head and out of the window.
“You two have been getting very… close lately.” Steve observes airily, pretending to pick at the lint on the couch.
“And, it’s just surprising is all.”
“Why is it surprising?” Bucky turns to look at him, his shirt in his hands.
“Because!” Steve answers childishly. “I didn’t expect it, is all. I’m happy for you, Buck. Really.”
“We’re just friends.” Bucky sighs at him.
“Sure, just friends who cuddle up on the couch together-”
“There is no cuddling.”
“-And cook dinner together,-”
“Since when is cooking an indication of anything?”
“With Y/N, it’s a big deal. And now you’ve moved your hang out sessions into her room? I mean, I don’t blame you her room is probably the coziest out of all of us, but I don’t know Buck, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I haven’t seen you like that since the 40’s.” Steve looks at him again, with a smirk.
“We are just friends, Steve. Okay? Nothing else.” Bucky throws his shirt into the corner of his room in punctuation of his finality on the subject. Steve sighs at this and stands up, and moves to his oldest friend. He sets a hand on his right shoulder and squeezes. Bucky sighs, and hangs his head.
“She makes me feel normal,” Bucky admits to him, so silently that even Steve struggles to hear it. “Like I’m not… me.”
“I’m happy for you, Buck. Truly, I am. I’m glad that you have-” He stops himself. “That you have another friend.”
Steve sits back down, and Bucky finally dresses in peace. Unbeknownst to the super soldiers, you stood outside of Bucky’s door. “Nothing else.” Heart aching with every thump, feeling stupid to even humor the idea that maybe, maybe your feelings weren’t unrequited. You took a deep breath, and stepped back into your room, hoping that a good night’s sleep will quell the burn in your chest.
Morning rolled around far too fast for your liking, it had been a week since you sat with Bucky in your room. Exhausted, you crawled your way out of your bed, and stood on weary feet. Your alarm clock flashed at you, as if mocking your exhaustion. 6:00 flickered across the screen. You smacked the clock, and make your way into your bathroom, turning the hot water on. You look in the mirror and cringe. The bags under your eyes are prominent. Your sleep was interrupted by nightmares left and right, something you would have to mention to your therapist. With a sigh, you strip down, hoping to wash yourself clean of the pains of last night. You scrub your skin until it’s flushed, washing your face and hair quickly. You wanted coffee. That was your only motivator to get you out of the shower, instead of just sliding down the wall and soaking in all of the hot water.
Soon enough, you’re dressed, comfortable shorts and a big tee shirt in place of the put together façade you usually put on. No dresses today, you were planning on taking the day for yourself, comfortable, and holed up in your bed for the foreseeable future. Your socks dragged across the floor, shuffling sluggishly into the kitchen. Steve was already there, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper balanced in the other, at the fridge was Nat, her short hair pulled half up. Wanda was fiddling at the stove, and the smell of bacon surrounded us in moments.
The sound of your shuffling alerts the three of them, and they lift their heads to see you. You don’t speak as you move to the coffee machine, grabbing a mug and placing it under the spout. You can’t see the trio exchanging looks behind you, knowing that usually you’re energetic in the mornings, always excited to get your day moving.
“Y/N…?” Steve is the first to break the silence. You’re hunched over on the counter, forearms digging into the quartz. “Rough night?” You nod without turning around, finishing making your coffee.
“Nightmares, again?” Wanda questions. She knows all too well about your nightmares, being wall neighbors, and on one occasion where you had shut down on yourself and the team had her tap into your mind to make sure you were okay. You weren’t mad at this, you knew it was only because they cared about you. You nod again, downing half of your coffee in one go. You didn’t mind the burn.
“Do you need anything?” Nat steps toward you, and you finally turn around. They get to see the full extent of how you look. The dark bags under your eyes are settled in. Your hair, still wet, laid on your shoulders limply. You stood with a hunch, the weight on your shoulders tearing you down brick by brick. You looked broken, exhausted from whatever had plagued you that night.
“I… I’m going to take the day to myself, if that’s okay Steve.” You spoke softly. They were relieved to hear you speak.
“Of course, Y/N.” He sat his coffee down as you started to shuffle your way out of the kitchen yet again.
“I’ll bring you some lunch later, okay?” Nat offered up. You nodded without turning, and continued to the elevator. As you moved, the doors slid open. Bucky looked up from his hand and smiled at you.
“Good morning, Y/N,” He started walking toward you. You smiled back as much as you could, and you thought it would pass with Bucky. His smile quickly morphed into a look of concern, eyebrows furrowing.
“Y/N? Doll, what’s wrong?” He reached out to stop you and you brushed him off.
“Just… not feeling great, Buck. I’m going back to my room.” You mustered the last smile you had left and moved into the elevator. The doors slid shut before he could say anything else. Confused, he made his way to the kitchen, where Natasha, Wanda, and Steve were all whispering. Bucky stopped, not expecting the two women to be there, and focused on Steve. His face mirrored Bucky’s concern for the girl upstairs.
“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Bucky moved to the coffee machine, following the steps that you had shown him on his first morning here.
“Nightmares, they’re coming back.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Nightmares?” Bucky looks between the members of the group. Natasha’s eyes light up in recognition, and she looks down at her Stark Watch.
“The anniversary is today, isn’t it?” Wanda asks her. Natasha nods and their shoulders drop.
“Anniversary of what?” Bucky asks with a little more force. He’s worried about you, and Steve notices. He lifts a brow at Bucky, who shakes his head. Steve clears his throat, getting back into the situation.
“The anniversary of us saving her, from the Hydra base. And the anniversary of…” Steve trails off. Bucky looks at the three of them, waiting for someone to finish. Natasha takes over for Steve.
“The anniversary of her family’s death.” She sighs out.
“Her family? I didn’t know-“
“She doesn’t talk about it much. Why would she? Who wants to relive the worst time of their life?” Wanda plates the bacon before she burns it, unable to focus any more on the minuscule task.
“What… what happened?” Bucky asks quietly. The group looks between each other, as if debating to tell him. Steve nods at the women in front of him and they nod in response.
“This time, a year ago now, we went to take down a Hydra base. It was routine really, but there were more agents there than usual. We couldn’t figure out why, but we made it through without a second thought. When… When we made it to the command room, we saw the reason. They had her, Y/N, in this cell and…” Steve stops. The memory is hard for him, growing to care for the girl so much that it hurts to think of the pain that they had put her through.
“Steve, do you want me to…” Wanda wiggles her fingers, and Bucky is confused. Steve nods, knowing that it’s the easiest way to tell him. “Bucky, I am going to tap into your mind, okay?” He goes to step back, an objection on his lips. “I’m not going to do anything, or look at anything. I promise you that.” Her sokovian accent slips through. “It is easier for us to… to show you just what happened that day. I have seen it through Steve’s perspective, and through Y/N’s.” Her fingers move and a red dust appears around them. “We will show you, this way.” She motions for him to sit down. Bucky glances at Steve in worry, but Steve only nods. Bucky moves to the seat, knowing that Steve wouldn’t do anything to harm him. “Close your eyes. I will show you.” And as her fingers move to his temples, flashes of memories flit through his vision.
And his heart aches.
Where it Blooms Tag List: @cevans-is-classic @bentobarnes @blackwidownat2814 @cottage-worm @stilinski-sister @heretokilltime @realisticstratosphere
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mobbucky · 2 days ago
8 cozy nights 🪐 Bucky Barnes
pairing: Bucky Barnes x m! reader
masterlist here
With your family not willing to receive you or your boyfriend for the holidays, Bucky decides to make your own private hannukah just the two of you. 
🪐do not repost, copy or translate my works nor post them anywhere else. minors and ageless blogs do not interact with my blog or my fics. 18+ only. Likes, reblogs and comments are more than greatly appreciated as they help other people find my fics as well, also motivate me to keep writing!!
A/N: There aren't enough hannukah fics, let me change that and post a couple. Title inspired by Adam Sandler😌. I do be out here making my own comfort fics. l'chaim bitch
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"What time are we supposed to be there, love?" Bucky asked while buttoning his shirt, it was the first time you would introduce him to your entire family and it was his first hanukkah after so long, he never got a full experience due to the war.
You pulled out your phone to text your mother the hour but another text got your attention instead.
We feel uncomfortable having the two of you over for Hanukkah, I invited a lot of people and they’ve expressed they don’t want to expose themselves or their children to you guys, I’m sorry will have to be another time- Mama
Bucky looked over to you awaiting an answer but you were staring at the phone screen in silence, not a sound emitting from your mouth. “Baby?”He advanced towards you and lifted your chin with his index finger, he looked into your eyes filled with tears and his smiley look on his face dropped.
Your mouth trembled when you tried to let out the words, Bucky held your face in his hands trying to calm your sobbing, keeping your eyes on his so you could calm down. “They- they don’t want us at the hou-house for the holidays” you hiccuped with a tearful voice, Bucky’s chest sunk after hearing your words, he knew you had been looking forward to presenting him to your family, you were so excited to spend the holidays with him constantly telling him about your mother’s special latke recipe and now they had closed their door to the both of you, ashamed of their son and his boyfriend.
He pulled you into a hug and you cried out onto his shoulder, he rubbed circles on your back as you let it all out, your hands trembled holding onto him. “It’s okay sweetheart, let it all out.” Bucky’s mind was fueled with anger thinking about how cruel your family had been feeding your hopes only to crash them down, waiting until the last minute to take you out of the list. More importantly and heartbreaking was the fact they couldn’t accept it, that they felt ashamed of you and didn’t want you around as who you were. He thought homophobia had been left behind in the 40’s, and you deserved better than that however he was not going to let the holidays go to waste.
He slowly separated you from his body so he could get a better look of your face and wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. “We will do our own hanukkah, just the two of us, we don’t need them”
It was a last minute shopping but thankfully the shops were still open, you got everything you needed for your latkes and brisket aside for other foods though it wouldn’t be plenty since it was just the two of you in your perfectly sized apartment. Bucky peeled the potatoes while you chopped away the vegetables, sweet melodies played in the background while the two of you cooked in the middle of the small kitchen sharing a comfortable silence.
Your mind kept thinking about your family, it pained you that they kept you away from the rest, that they were ashamed of who you were despite acting so unbothered by it. You knew your mother had barely any issues with it, so why was she acting like this? Had she been faking it?
You were so focused on your thoughts that overpowered your mind that you hadn’t realized the sharp edge of the knife had cut on your skin, you looked down at your hand, seeing the blood on the top of your hand. Bucky set the peeler on the counter and rushed to your side with a cloth, covering the wound. “You gotta be careful hun! Are you in pain?”
“I’m fine Buck, I’m fine, just was distracted” you reassure him with an exhausted tone in your voice but he knows what you have been thinking, also he can’t let you bleed on the food. Bucky dragged you to the bathroom and insisted you sat on the toilet while he looked for the first aid kit. You held your face with your hands, elbows pressing on your thighs, Bucky turned his head to see you.
“I just don’t understand it you know,” you sigh feeling Bucky’s eyes glued on you paying attention to your words. “They were so nice when I introduced you, when I talked about you and i just thought great, they are past their deep rooted hatred for gays but no.” You mimicked a voice and chuckled in disbelief. “I should have seen it coming, I should have known they wouldn’t change, why would they even? But I thought they could love me for who I am, for who we are.”
“Hey,” Bucky showed you a small chuckle. “ Neither of us knew that would happen, and if they can’t love you then they are missing out, but I know I do” he stated and moved up closer to your body and extended your arm, placing your hand on his lap so he could attend to the injury.
You watched as he dipped the cotton ball in oxygenated water and moved it to your hand, tapping it softly which caused you to hiss in discomfort. “I’m sorry love, just try to think about something else while I finish”
“I can’t! I can’t because all that time I thought about forming a huge family, giving you a new family with whom you could celebrate and spend holidays with and I spent all that time trying so hard thinking seeing me happy would soften them.. but I guess not” you sighed leaning your head back against the wall.
Bucky finished bandaging you and pushed himself up sitting on his knees while a leg was brought up, he cradled your face in his tender hands and urged you to look at him. “It’s not your responsibility to give me that, you give me everything already and we will spend it by ourselves, happier than ever. It’s also not your responsibility to make them realize what they’re missing out on, if they don’t come around then that’s on them.” His words had an effect on you, a smile formed on your lips alleviated sinking your chin further into his touch. “Now, let’s finish the latkes and hope you don’t chop any more fingers, yeah?”
“We can use it as a candle if I do” you suggested as a joke, Bucky snorted and shook his head pushing himself up to his feet and held out his hand for you which you gladly accepted before walking back into the kitchen.
“Four potatoes, peel and grate. Shred an onion, tears streaming down your face
Then salt and pepper to your taste
Add a tablespoon of flour, a pinch of baking powder
Then add two eggs
And mix it all together
And while we stir we sing!”
You sang mostly by yourself  since Bucky didn't know the words to the song while you continued preparing the ingredients, he turned his head to laugh while he stirred the mix in his bowl.  Bucky and you danced around the kitchen as the music played and he twirled you around while you waited for the latkes to fry and the oven to finish its work. He held you in his arms tightly, wrapping them around your waist moving from side to side while you giggled.
When the food was done, you brought the plates and set the dinner down on the coffee table, plopping your asses on the couch, Bucky dived right into the latkes while you searched for an Adam Sandler film, it was your sort of ritual and plus you really needed to show your 1ooth year old boyfriend the Hanukkah song.
You wouldn't trade this for anything, in the end Bucky was right. The only responsibility you had was your own happiness and you were sure you found it right here with Bucky.  
If you enjoyed, reblog!!! Feedback is appreciated as well!!!
I hope you get to spend the families with people that make you feel safe, wether they are your direct family or not you deserve to enjoy this time the be 💖
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ohheyjanie · a day ago
12 Days of Christmas {7/16}
Day 5: Christmas Tree Lighting @ Rockefeller Center, with Pietro Maximoff
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, platonic Avengers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ~1.9k
Warnings: FLUFF, some swearing, mutual pining, idiots in love
Summary: Petro is running late and you're starting to get nervous, but they you spot a familiar face in the crowd as you wait.
Series Masterlist || Series Playlist on Spotify
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It’s December 1st, meaning it’s now socially acceptable to openly start getting ready for the winter holidays. You never understood the outrage, to be honest. Personally, you’re already secretly gift shopping and listening to holiday music even before Halloween has passed. In a world that can be unforgiving and relentless, what’s wrong with taking a little bit of extra time to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year? You love getting festive!
However, you most certainly aren’t feeling very festive right now, despite being in the courtyard of Rockefeller Center getting ready for the tree lighting ceremony. You had debated just going to do some carolling, maybe collect some money for the Salvation Army while you were at it, but Pietro had something more in mind.
“That’s a very nice idea, draga,” Pietro had said to you in his velvety accent. “We can do all that, and maybe something a little extra?” He had suggested that maybe he and whoever else decides to tag along could do the actual tree lighting. The staff at Rockefeller Center went ecstatic at the idea. Soon, they were announcing that Quicksilver would be at the event and you couldn’t back out now. Besides, if Pietro wanted to do a little something extra, what right did you have to stop him? The crowd would absolutely love it. Pietro promises to pose for photos too.
This was all his idea, yet it is quarter to seven and he is nowhere to be found. He had texted you almost an hour ago, saying he was running just a tiny little bit late but he would definitely be on time for the ceremony. As the minutes ticked by, however, you find yourself standing with the event organizers who are growing increasingly impatient. In fact, they’re looking at you as if it’s all your fault.
“I’m sorry; he’ll be here any minute. Even if he leaves the Tower right now, he’ll get here in less than three minutes, probably.” You’re rambling, because despite your words you are anxious too. Hoping your smile doesn’t look too fake, you turn away from the staff to mumble under your breath, “If he isn’t, I’ll literally emasculate him.” You scan the crowd for any signs of his arrival, but instead, you find yourself swimming in the clear blue eyes of your favourite sergeant. He waves at you amongst the mass of strangers. You smile, because by now you probably should have expected to find him here. It seems Bucky is making a habit of pleasantly surprising you.
You signal to the event organizers to give you a minute while you practically sprint towards Bucky, who just smiles wider and wider as you approach. “Hi Buck,” you’re feeling bold, so you greet him with a hug. As soon as his arms wrap themselves around you, you realize you’ve made a mistake. He’s so warm on this cold December night that you don’t want to pull away. The two of you stand there for a moment, arms around each other. You wait for him to get sick of your clinging, but he stays put, resting his chin on top of your head. Your cheeks tingle then—no, not from the cold, but from the realization that Bucky is obviously waiting for you to be the first one to let go.
“I heard Maximoff was going to be late,” you hear him say, his deep voice causing his chest to vibrate slightly against your cheek. “I wanted to see if you were okay. And… well, if he doesn’t show up on time… I could… I don’t know.” You pull back then to look up at him, hoping you’re not swooning too obviously. Is the adoration you feel for him right now showing on your face as clear as the night sky? Bucky never looks away from you, his hand still flat on your upper back, your arms still wound around his waist. If anyone were looking at the two of you now, what would they think your relationship was?
“You would do that?” You ask him, knowing that he avoids being in public as much as he can. Just standing here in the crowd must be agonizing for him.
“For you? Anything.” Bucky seems determined to make this unfair for you. How are you supposed to not fall for him when he says stuff like that, all the while practically shining in the moonlight? “I mean, if you think they wouldn’t be too disappointed that it’s just me.” He looks almost shy, and you sneer at the thought of anyone being disappointed to see him under this grand Christmas tree, looking soft and sweet under the bright lights.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Buck. You’re pretty popular, you know?” You opt for a joke to ease his nerves. “Ever been on Tumblr?” You ask, laughing when he just looks confused and shakes his head. Then you remember the contents of some of the posts you’ve read and you hope he doesn’t look it up anytime soon, just to save yourself the embarrassment of having to explain how you knew about it in the first place. He also doesn’t seem to notice the group of girls standing just a few feet away, giggling like schoolgirls and pointing in his direction. You feel petty for it, but decide not to bring it to his attention, especially when his attention seems to be focused solely on you.
“I’m sorry I’m late, love!” A sigh of relief comes tumbling from your lips at the sound of Pietro’s voice. Even though Bucky had said he didn’t mind, you can see the tension in his shoulders ease now that the intended guest is here. Your heart warms at the thought, so grateful that Bucky would do something that clearly made him uncomfortable if it meant he could help you out. You wonder if he knows you would do the same for him, without hesitation. You hope you have the courage to tell him one day. “Although I see you’re enjoying yourselves…” Pietro looks between you and Bucky with a conspiratorial smile, and you realize that you’re still holding onto each other. The two of you pull back instantly as if you’ve been scalded.
“It’s—” You check your watch. “Three minutes to seven! Let’s go!” You hiss at Pietro, dragging him back to where the event organizers are probably about to have heart attacks right about now. He just laughs at your attempts to look intimidating. Curse you and your short stature, for which the team always good-naturedly teases you about. Actually, you’re not even sure you really are that short. You had always thought you were of average height… maybe it’s just that everyone else on the team are practically giants—well, maybe except Tony. Oof, let’s hope he never finds out the thought ever crossed your mind!
“Alright, alright,” Pietro says, putting his free hand up in surrender as he follows you. Before turning away, you send Bucky an apologetic look but he just waves it off, motioning for you to hurry up and go. Once you turn around, Pietro leans back a little to whisper to Bucky, “I’ll bring her right back, Sergeant, I promise.” With a wink, he allows you to lead him towards the tree so he can plug in the damn lights and get it over with. Bucky rolls his eyes, but he watches fondly as the two of you bicker and argue.
When the lights finally turn on at seven o’clock sharp, the crowd cheers as Pietro revels in the attention. He waves like he’s on a presidential campaign and poses for pictures with children and their families, before gathering a bunch of friendly strangers to start singing Christmas carols in the middle of the courtyard. You’re standing off to the side, taking some quick pictures of your own, likely to show the rest of the team when you get back to the compound later tonight.
Suddenly, Bucky notices you’re pointing your phone right at him. Your lips quirk up into a cheeky grin as he hears the sound of the camera going off. When you realize he’s watching, you start posing dramatically like you’re paparazzi, angling the camera in different directions, constantly snapping photos of him. He smiles despite himself, even though he’s usually annoyed when people try to take pictures of him. He puts his hand up to cover his face and turn away, but then he hears you laugh and he is compelled to look back at you. Your smile and your laugh, now that’s a sight he never wants to miss.
After looking over your shoulder to see that Pietro is still occupied, you run over to where Bucky is standing. He’s still got his hand up to block the view of your camera, but then you’re grabbing his forearm and gently tugging it down. “You know, we don’t have any pictures together, Buck.” He knows he’s dug himself into a hole now, because just a few minutes ago he said he would do anything for you.
So, with a resigned sigh, he lets you pull him close as you raise your cell phone into the air. Bucky leans down a little so you’re both in the frame and pretends to be looking at the camera, but he’s really looking at you on the screen. You’re beaming, smiling wider than he’s ever seen you do. If this is what makes you happy, then he would do it a thousand times over. You press the shutter button on your phone, letting out a small squeak of excitement when you step away to admire the selfie you just took. He doesn’t like the sudden distance between you.
“Can we take another one?” Bucky asks, hoping it’s not too obvious that he just wants to be next to you. Nodding, you ask a nearby stranger to help you take one with the tree in the background. Bucky takes his place next to you, but doesn’t really know what to do with himself anymore now that there’s an audience. The stranger with your phone points the camera at the two of you.
“Come on, put your arm around the pretty girl!” The man suggests, laughing because Bucky’s just standing there, stiff as a board. Complying quickly, Bucky throws his arm around your shoulders and makes a note to thank this person later when you’re not looking—especially when you burrow into his side, your own arm snaking around his waist to tug him that much closer against you. Your warmth lingers even after you’ve pulled away to thank the kind stranger, and you let out an adorable squeal when you show him your screen.
“Look how pretty! Hang on, I’m sending this to you.” After a few taps on your phone, Bucky’s own device vibrates in his back pocket. When he pulls it out to check, the glare of his screen gives you a full view of the small smile that appears when he looks at the two pictures you’ve sent him.
It is a very pretty shot. The two of you are smiling shyly at the camera in each other’s arms, the lights adorning the tree seem to twinkle in the background, all the while little flakes of snow are falling gently around you. Bucky would stare at the picture for days after you sent it to him, marveling at how you looked under the glow of the lights, like a beautiful angel sent here to erase all the pain he’s ever experienced in this cursed life.
He also makes it the wallpaper on his phone. Tony practically has a hernia trying not to tease him about it in the upcoming weeks.
To be continued!
Up Next: Day 6 — Talent Show @ The Brooklyn Expo Center with Spider-Man (coming Dec 5th)
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Taglist will be in the reblog post! <3
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coffeecatsandcandles · 2 days ago
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The votes are in...
In my interactive bucky x reader series:
Bucky is- divorced
This one was tough, and though I did have a personal preference for widowed, I love how this one took a turn! I love an idea of having an ex-wife in or out of the picture.
The Reader is- divorced
This was one I was hoping for. The drama of an ex-husband? Abandonment issues? It's so good.
How many kids does Bucky have? 2.
There will be more questions pertaining to the genders and names of the kids, but I like that each of them have two!
How many kids does the Reader have? 2.
The names of the kids will be my favorite part, I can just tell already.
How is Bucky's parenting style? Easygoing.
This one was a nail biter! Strict parenting was in the lead at the beginning, and even still it was a very close race. I can't wait to write sweet, easygoing dad!bucky.
How is the Reader's parenting style? Easygoing.
I also figured this one would be an overwhelming majority. I guess we're all hoping to be / already are easygoing moms!
Does Bucky still have a military background? Yes.
This one was also an overwhelming majority (of course, we all love Sergeant Barnes), but I was kind of interested to see what would happen had "No" been the majority vote! Oh well, but hey, I'm not complaining about our favorite Army man!
But there's still more work to be done!
Next form here
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Read Receipts | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi, friends! I am embarrassed to admit how many times I have accidentally sent the wrong text to the wrong person- but unfortunately, none of those instances ended nearly as well as this one.
As always send me any comments, suggestions, and/or requests! 🥰
Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @emetophilily @breakablebarnes 💘💘💘
Nat responded to your text, pulling your attention from your New Girl marathon: "Just walk up to him and kiss him- I highly doubt he'll mind."
You chuckled as you fired off your response: "I can't just walk up to Bucky and kiss him that's so awkward!!!!!"
Almost instantly, you're phone vibrated- but it wasn't Nat.
"Hey, doll. Movie night tonight?" Bucky texted, immediately making your heart rate sky rocket.
"You know it, Barnes :) My room or yours?" you responded.
"My room? I have the bigger tv ;)" he answered.
Yet another text came in, this time from Nat: "Come on, do it! You know you want toooooo..."
The two conversations were happening almost in unison, confusing your fingers as you thought you were sending a reply to Nat:
"DUH. I want Bucky to fucking dick me down till I can't walk- but I can't just say that to him"
A few minutes passed without Nat answering, and you clicked back to your conversation with her to see if your last message had gone through- but the message wasn't there. Staring back at you was the last thing Nat had sent, and your heart leapt into your throat.
"Fuuuuuuck no, no, no-shiiiiiiiiit!" you muttered as you checked your text thread with Bucky and saw your explicit text staring back at you- accompanied by a tiny check mark, indicating that it had been read. Time seemed to freeze and you thought you might throw up as waves of humiliation washed over you. A vibration -a message from Bucky-pulled you back to reality.
"So...I'm guessing that wasn't for me?" he asked.
You prayed to Thor, begging him send down a lightning bolt and smite you into of oblivion, but no such luck. You drafted about forty different message to Bucky- apologies, explanation, rambling confessions of your feelings- but none of them seemed right.
"Should we reschedule movie night...?" he eventually sent, and an involuntary groan escaped your lips as you flopped down on your bed with your hands over your face. You considered running away from the compound, absconding into the forest so that you wouldn't have to face Bucky. Just then yet another text came in, and you read it with reluctance:
"I think we should definitely reschedule..." Bucky sent, "cause I'd love to use tonight to 'dick you down'".
You bolted upright as a mixture of nerves and excitement rushed through your body, making your heart hammer against your chest. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit", you muttered as you began drafting a text to Nat filling her in on what had just happened.
You were interrupted, though, by the familiar sound of a metal hand knocking against your bedroom door...
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anotherwritersblog · a day ago
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Title: B Could Be For...
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 670
Warnings: fluff, a lot of B words 38 not including the words that contained the letter and the letter on its own
Author's Note: I saw a prompt I wanted to do about dancing by the tree, but it ended up turning into this 😅 Welcome to my brain and how it functions sometimes! Any mistakes are my own.
Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.
In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to repost this anywhere
Days of breaking wishbones and giving thanks were finally over.
Days of chilly afternoons were beginning to creep into the early hours of the morning.
The last leaf had finally fallen for the year and it was finally feeling like winter.
This also meant that the time had come to do what you were looking forward to most all month: decorating your home for Christmas.
Before you started pulling bins from the storage closet you had in your small apartment to create the cozy little space you’d seen across your Instagram feed the past few weeks, you opened up Spotify to your holiday playlist. You had made certain that your Bluetooth speaker was fully charged for this specific day.
You were able to get your small, five-foot plastic tree up in the corner of your living room, decorated with your favorite childhood ornaments, plus the new ones you’d found at the store last week.
The wreath that hung on your front door spoke to your neighbors that you were finally in the Christmas spirit, if it wasn’t the consistent singing that they’ve heard all afternoon.
Garland graced your bookshelves and tables, adding a little bit of snow to the aesthetic, while the stocking with your initial hung next to a new one you had also picked up at the store. A nice little surprise for your visitor later.
You glanced at your phone and saw that time had crawled away from you. Your boyfriend would be over to pick you up shortly for date night.
Some time later, you were about halfway through fixing your hair when your phone started ringing.
“Hi. Yes. I’m in search of a beautiful woman in need of some good nachos and drinks. Maybe even a chance to go ice skating and watch her man make a fool of himself as he falls endlessly, not only on the ice, but for his girl again and again. Do you know where I might be able to find one?”
You giggled, reaching to push the necessary buttons needed to open the gates at the front of your apartment complex.
“I think she’s still getting ready, so you’ll have to let yourself in.”
“Thanks, doll!”
You heard the unlocking of the front door as you were slipping into your favorite sweater and jeans. You grabbed your boots and made your way into the living room, where your man was gazing at all your efforts.
“Everything looks so good. I’m sure you’ve had a relaxing afternoon putting everything-” he was cut off by the sight of the stocking you had hung earlier. A smile crept onto your face as he eyed the big cursive B next to your stocking.
“Doll?” he turned to see you with a grin on your face. “Is that for me?”
“Well…that B could stand for many things,” you started, sitting to lace your left boot.
“B could be for Bold,” after lacing the right.
“B could be for Bewitching,” making eye contact with the love of your life across the room.
“B could be for Badass,” giggling, watching him make his way to you.
“B could be for Beloved,” pulling you up into his arms.
“B could definitely be for Beefy,” you whispered, running your hands up the muscle of his arms. He playfully rolled his eyes at you, but soon was returning your smile.
“B could be for Big-Hearted,” placing your hand over the left side of his chest. You could feel each thump, almost synching up with yours.
“But, if I remember correctly, at the end of the day, it stands for my Blessing of a Boyfriend. Bucky.” His hand reached down to cover your hand with his, as he uses the other to tilt your head up. Your eyes watch his glow from the love you give so freely to him.
“Doll, if anyone is a blessing, it’s you,” he murmured, before capturing your lips with his.
His beautiful, blissful lips.
Doing nothing more than taking your breath away.
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myoxisbroken · 2 days ago
Holiday Fanfics
Below is a collection of the fics I have written for holidays. Currently there are just stories for Christmas and New Year’s Eve, but if I write for other holidays, I’ll add those as well.
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All I Want For Christmas Is You
Loki/Reader Rating: Teen & Up
Summary:  You’re a rookie Avenger who has been living and working in the Avengers Tower for six months. With the holidays approaching, your thoughts turn towards romance and a certain God of Mischief. You think he may be into you, but he hasn’t made a move. Is there anything you can do to help things along?
We’ll Find It Hard To Sleep Tonight
Steve Rogers/Rosalind Deluca Rating: Explicit
Summary: Steve and Rosalind host Christmas at her Brooklyn brownstone, but even with overnight guests in the house and the busyness of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, he still can’t keep his hands off of her.
Let Your Heart Be Light
Bucky Barnes/Angelica Harper Rating: Teen & Up
Summary: Bucky has had his eye on Angelica Harper for two years but has never gotten around to asking her out. Will Christmas Day at her boss Rosalind’s home give him the opportunity he needs?
A/N: This overlaps with the Steve Rogers/OFC Rosalind Deluca story We’ll Find It Hard To Sleep Tonight with the events of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day from Bucky’s perspective.
Kissing The New Year In
Bucky Barnes/Angelica Harper Rating: Mature
Summary: Angelica Harper took the bull by the horns and asked out Bucky Barnes. Now they’re dating, and she’s eager to take an important step on New Year’s Eve.
Where The Love Light Gleams
Thomas Sharpe/Susannah Sharpe Rating: Mature
Summary: Susannah was sure that Thomas would be home in time for Christmas. When the snow falls heavily and she’s forced to spend Christmas Eve without him, she comforts herself in a familiar place.
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andyoudidthisforwhattttt · 13 hours ago
Maybe Love Is Hate, pt. 6
Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Series Masterlist
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Summary: Bucky and Reader completely despise each other. Things escalate further when they go on a mission together.
A/N - so I tried to give y’all a little more insight to what’s going on in the readers head. I tried to give her a little more characterization bc mainly, I’ve just been showing how Bucky feels about everything. Also, I’m so bad at writing action scenes/missions. Excuse my brevity in that area. Possibly a bit of inspo from criminal minds here. There’s a whole piece missing from this, I forgot to finish writing it so pls ignore how quickly I cut into the mission. I literally forgot to go back and write more and I’m not gonna fix it now LMAO.
Content warnings: language, sexual content, commitment issues, brief mentions of past bad relationship, implied ostracism if you squint, canon typical violence, guns and weapons, severe injury, description of blood and wound, slight angst ig?, self-blame, reader is enhanced with basic powers
Saying you didn’t want to deal with the Bucky predicament until the mission was over, seemed to be complete bullshit. It was all you could think about. There wasn’t a single second that he wasn’t on your mind and there was a lot to take into consideration.
The fact that you just had sex with him again, the major emotional outbursts you’d both had, his confession of liking you since the day he met you. Those were already a lot to process, but prompting a relationship was throwing your mind on a loop. You were arguing with yourself internally. As if your heart was fighting your brain.
Of course, there was the obvious, the fact you’d already pointed out to him. Your relationship with Bucky was anything but healthy. Being friends with benefits or dating, had a high chance of amplifying that toxicity. It was something you didn’t want to deal with. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. The way things were now already drained you more than you’d like to admit.
Imagining dating him, having him treat you badly, was not a pretty picture. It was practically a nightmare.
On the other hand though, you weren’t sure if it’d actually be that bad. Despite everything, you knew deep down that Bucky was a good guy. You knew that if he tried to better himself, he probably would succeed.
More so, you saw the real him that night at Applebee’s. He was actually sweet. Almost timid, even. Not even the slightest bit what you’d been used to. Hell, you saw that same soft side both times you’d had sex. When he looked at you, all starry eyed, with all the hope and admiration in the world.
It was so damn endearing that it freaked you the fuck out. You figured that maybe you should introspect a little bit here. Were you really that convinced he’d be a horrible companion, or was it your own deep rooted fear of falling in love and your commitment issues, standing in the way?
Maybe a mix, you figured, not really wanting to dive into those nasty parts of yourself. You truthfully had all the reasons in the world to not forgive him. To shut this down immediately, without second thought. You couldn’t bring yourself to do that though. A part of you couldn’t help but like him. He was definitely funny, and smart, interesting even. But did his good outweigh all the bad he’d done to you? You weren’t sure.
You at least put together the pieces to half way understand his actions. It took thorough contemplation but you grasped the idea. He was just deeply insecure. Bucky viewed himself with nothing but hatred. So much so, that he’d been projecting it on to you. He didn’t feel good enough so he automatically assumed you didn’t think he was good enough either.
All along, he’d been faking this enemies-esque relationship. It was false hostility he created as a defense mechanism. And damnit, that shouldn’t be an excuse, but you couldn’t help sympathizing with him. Screw Bucky for how he hit your soft spot. It made you want to forgive him asap.
Your mind warned you of the risk though. It reminded you of your previous failed relationships, more specifically, one douche bag boyfriend in particular. Your ex had been one hell of an experience, literally, hell. You absolutely did not want to put up with something like that again. That fear, that carefulness, followed you years later into dating. It was to the point that you were overly careful, nearly withdrawing completely from love. You stuck to one night stands and non-serious dating that didn’t go past a third meet up.
After considering your typical dating life, it struck you in a flash that maybe you had been leading Bucky on a bit. Treating him these past few days similarly to how you would a tinder date that you had no real intentions of being with. You felt kinda awful. You knew it wasn’t very fair. Then again, this weird dance you’d been doing around each other had only been going on for a week. It wasn’t that bad to just hook up with him, right?
Maybe not, if you’d let it end here. Your thoughts came back full circle, making you almost want to scream out loud in frustration. Why did it have to be so complicated?
You kinda liked Bucky, for the few sparks of connections you’d shared, the nicer sides of him. You liked being in his good side. You’d always had a physical attraction to him. You could see yourself falling for him, if you gave him a chance. You knew you’d end up head over heels. And that’s what terrified you. There’d been so many red flags, so much wrong doing on both sides. You couldn’t just take that leap of faith into a relationship with him.
But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be friends, right? You weren’t sure of that either. It was funny, really, thinking about being friends.
You didn’t even know what you’d call your relationship to him right now. A coworker? Not exactly, you spent too much time together. A partner? Hell no, you didn’t work together unless it was in groups. Family? That’s what you called the rest of the avengers. But that wasn’t it either, you fought too much. Too hostile towards each other to call him family.
You settled on just a guy you happen to know. Nothing more than that. But now that guy wanted to develop something more. Not jump a pond to being acquaintances, but rather cross a whole ocean into love. It was unrealistic.
This was all giving you a head ache. It shouldn’t be though. You convinced yourself he didn’t really mean anything to you. So this whole predicament should be at the very bottom of your priorities. You were going to force yourself to compartmentalize.
That afternoon, you’d finally gotten a lead. Three days do waiting, three days of nothing and it was finally time to put an end to this.
Sam had been able to track the group to an abandoned factory, twelve miles out out town.
You were certainly out numbered, but the three of you quite easily overpowered your enemies. Taking them down swiftly one by one. It looked like a chaotic mess of fighting, one huge room filled with fists flying and bodies falling over. It was under control though.
You let your two partners take on more of the hand to hand combat, take on more enemies than you were. You had a dual focus, your second being to eliminate any weaponry you saw. Wether using your telekinesis to rip it from a pair of hands and smash it against a wall or using it with a mix of your pyrokinesis to make them combust from the inside out. You’d been succeeding in destroying them. It was an easy feat for you to do. Each weapon was large, unconcealable and none were out of your reach thanks to your abilities.
The three of you had mostly taken them all down, but a few more rushed into the building. It was no problem. None of you saw it as a larger threat than before. Everything was fine. It was all under control. Until the sound of two gun shots rang in the air.
One of the bullets brushed past you, thankfully missing by a good couple of inches, but still you were shaken up a bit. You turned your head to see where the or the shit had went and your eyes fell on Bucky’s body, falling limply to the ground.
Your mouth went slightly agape, your breathing became heavily labored. Everything around you was drowning out, the sounds felt muffled and distant, your eyes only focused one thing that mattered. Your hands were visibly shaking as fear and anger mixed together and took over your body. With merely a half of a thought and mainly overbearing emotion, your mind blasted the four remaining enemies into the concrete walls.
You didn’t even realize you’d taken them all out, you were in a haze as you rushed over to the bleeding man. Your surroundings had become non existent at this point, the only thing that mattered was Bucky. You pulled him up gently and leaned him against the wall.
You kneeled down in front of him. The color was drained from his face, his head was tilted to side as his eyes fluttered open and shut. The shot had hit him in the neck, blood was gushing out of the hole profusely. You pulled the knife from his leg holster and cut off a piece of your suit, to apply the cloth to his neck.
With one hand, you put down pressure of the wound, hoping to delay the bleeding. You used your other hand to caress his cheek, tapping lightly against it to keep him stimulated.
“I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Stay awake.” You spoke, voice shaking, practically begging him.
You could tell Bucky was out of it, terrifyingly so. The weight of his head began to push down on your palm, his eyes started roll backwards. You pushed upward a little bit forcefully, trying to keep his attention as much as possible.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey…it’s okay, I’ve got you buddy. I’ve got you.” You cooed, frantically, tears pricking your eyes. You felt a hand on your shoulder and it drew you out of your tunneled focus. “Sam? Sam. Call an ambulance. He needs a medic, he needs-“
“I already did. They’re on their way. Just calm down, for Bucky’s sake.” He spoke, sounding level headed but his eyes contained as much fear as yours. “I’m gonna head right outside, so the medics and cops can see where we’re at. Yell if you need anything, okay?”
You nodded fervently before returning your attention to Bucky. His eyes started to roll back again, this time closing completely afterwards.
“Buck…Buck…come on, stay with me, buddy.” You patted his face lightly with your free hand, trying to keep him awake. A small amount of relief flushed over you when his eyes opened again. “There ya go buck…you got this. I just need you to stay awake for me.”
His eyes met yours. You couldn’t tell wether he was recollecting what you were saying or not but the eye contact had to be a good sign after he’d been fading in and out of consciousness. You felt the cloth get overly damp now, blood had completely soaked it through. His breaths were shallow, rough sounding. Your worry only increased by the second.
“You’re gonna be okay, baby.” You didn’t even realize you’d just called him ‘baby’. It just slipped out naturally. You moved closer to him, still applying pressure but leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got you.”
Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for the ambulance to arrive. You’d been pulled away from the man and were now placed in the arms of Sam, holding on to each other for comfort in the midst of this panic. Worrisome tears trailed your cheeks as you watched Bucky get rolled off on the gurney.
The only light was watching the men responsible, the men you’d been after for days, finally get put in hand cuffs. Although right now, it felt a little less like they were the ones who caused this.
Guilt filled you completely. You felt as if it were your fault. You shouldn’t have let Bucky take on two people at once. You should’ve seen that guy enter with a gun. You should’ve done better. He had to pay for your poor handling of the situation. And above everything, you should’ve been treating him better all this time. You should’ve appreciated him more. Considering he was in critical condition, you were terrified of the possibility that might you never get the chance to make it up.
Taglist: @husherstan @vicmc624 @buckyys-doll @xxbuckysbxx @lucymfer @philiasoul @redbarn1995 @scxrletrecsmarvel @spaceprincessss @igotmajordaddyissues @18-months-myass @everythingiloveandcherish @michaelfuckinglangdon @nerdy-bookworm-1998
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angrythingstarlight · 23 days ago
Let Us Take Care of You
Summary: Your bosses have an unusual offer for you. Something better than working every day. They believe you should be spoiled and taken care of and they're willing to take their time convincing you that they mean everything they say.
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Pairing: Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader.
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Smut, 18+, oral (fem receiving) fingering, minor Stucky action, brief choking kink, praise kink.
A/N: @xxshelbsxx I swear I tried to keep this as a drabble, my hand slipped.
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“You don’t have to worry about working anymore,” Bucky states, leaning back across the leather couch, his arms extending along the back of it. His fingers curve around the back of Steve’s neck in an intimate gesture. “You’re not here for that.”
Your widening eyes bounce between the two men seated before you. Raw, potent masculinity rolls off of them in heady waves, making your stomach flutter and an all too familiar ache awaken in your pussy.
You’ve barely survived being their assistant for past two months leaving each day with your panties soaked and clinging to your pussy. They’re openly affectionate with each other and you caught yourself staring at them many times--you can’t help it because your office sits directly across from theirs--, the sight of the two most powerful mobsters in the city locked in an embrace is enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face.
And they know.
How can they not know how much they affect you?
You have to rush home each night to relieve the throbbing ache between your thighs, pretending it’s their mouths, large hands and cocks making you orgasm instead of your toys. Sometimes you’ll catch Bucky staring at you over a file, a hint of a smirk on his face as if he knows it was his name you were crying out last night.
At least in your office, you can hide behind your desk and laptop. But standing before them, you feel exposed. Vulnerable. Wanted. They’re staring at you like you’re a fine dessert and they’re starving.
You want to swallow but your mouth is bone dry. Heat pools between your thighs and you subtly shift on your heels, squeezing them together. Steve’s keen eyes drop to your pussy and you swear he can right through your skirt, past your lacy panties, to your pulsating clit.
“Then why-“ you clear your throat, still unable to swallow. You’re melting under their intense gazes. Your panties are drenched, you want to clench your thighs again, but you’re frozen before them. “Why did you hire me?”
They exchange glances, a silent conversation that ends with Bucky nodding his head. Steve turns his attention to you, icy blue eyes sliding down your body for one long breathtaking minute before climbing back up to your face.
Purely selfish reasons, mo chridhe.” Steve states simply, tapping his long tattooed fingers on his thigh. “We saw how hard you were working at your old job and we know you deserve better. We wanted you away from that place so it was either buy it or hire you."
He shrugs, like it was a simple choice. But the underlying desperation and need thickens his tone and it seeps into your chest making your heart race.
"We offered you this position more as a chance for you to get to know us without any pressure, we can be overwhelming at times.” That’s an understatement. “But we can’t wait anymore, we want you to be ours. Now.”
Bucky leans forward, elbows on his knees. His eager eyes capture yours. “When you become ours, you can do whatever you want. You have no idea how much we love having you around the office.” He smiles at you, his tongue sweeps across his lip, voice deepening. “But we would rather spoil you.”
“Sp-spoil me?” Your brows furrow, confusion flitting across your face. This is not how you thought your morning was going to go. Your mind races, trying to process what’s happening.
“Why me?”
“Yes, spoil you.” Steve tilts his head, mirroring your expression. “And why not you?” He reaches out his large hand, beckoning you to him. It’s like he’s pulling a string inside you, tugging you into their orbit. You’re helpless to resist, your feet moving on their own until you’re standing between his thighs.
“Why you?” He hums softly, his hands grazing the sides of your thighs, pushing your pinstriped skirt up your thighs. “Because mo chridhe you are special.”
You thought Bucky’s eyes were captivating, but nothing prepared you for the intensity of Steve’s darkened blues as he sits up, bringing you closer until you can see the specks of green in them.
“You’re beautiful and amazing, and we want you more than anything in this world. We want to give you everything we have and then if you need more, we’ll find a way to give you more.”
There’s a simple power behind his statement, letting you know he means every single word.
You startle slightly when warm, rough hands settle on your shoulders, turning your head you see Bucky standing behind you. Steve’s cologne, spiced orange with a hint of vanilla fills your nose, it’s enhanced by the bergamot and smoked cedar wafting off of Bucky.
It’s intoxicating being caught between the two of them, hands sweeping over your skin, touching you reverently like they can’t believe you’re really with them.
You can’t help but notice the differences between them, but it’s their similarities, dazzling blue eyes, broad shoulders, tattooed muscular forearms and hands and but it’s how they make you feel small and cherished that you keep thinking about.
“Let’s show our girl what’s she in for if she says yes,” Bucky murmurs, sliding his hands down to your waist. A grin forms on his chiseled face, the heat of his body permeates your skin and you want to lean into him and bask in it. He slowly bends down behind you and you shiver at the sight of him on his knees for you.
“I’m going to enjoy ruining you mo chridhe, by the time we’re done you won’t remember anything but how good we make you feel.” Steve grabs your chin, turning your face back to him.
You feel Buck’s fingers hook under the band of your panties and he drags them down your legs. Steve reaches for your calf with his free hand, helping you step out of them.
It’s erotic and powerful the way they’re stripping you bare while remaining fully clothed, you might have felt embarrassed but they keep murmuring soft praises about your body that make you want to preen.
Steve still has your chin in his hand, and he grabs your ass pushing you on his lap. You latch on to his shoulders, your legs on either side of his, his pants feel soft on your skin, but it can’t conceal how thick and powerful his thighs are. It’s as if he’s reading your mind because his next words make your stomach flutter. “Next time, you’re going to slide your pretty little pussy all over my thigh until I’m soaked, and then I’m going to spend all day with you dripping off of me.
Oh fuck.
If you weren’t drenched before, you’re practically dripping now, your cunt clenches down and a low whimper builds in your throat. You don’t have time to respond to that because Bucky is tilting your hips up, the cool conditioned air hits your heated folds but before the shiver is halfway up your spine, his warm wet tongue is on you.
Bucky is ravenous, the way he’s licking and sucking you is filthy and vulgar and loud. And god does it feel good. His mouth is doing things to your clit, you didn’t know where possible. Steve rubs your lower back, greedily watching him devour you.
“Good girl. C’mon Bucky, I know you can do better than that, you’ve been talking about her pussy for weeks now and that’s all you’re going to give our girl.” He goads with a dark chuckle.
He’s sucking your soul out of your body and Steve is saying he can do better. You can’t handle more.
“Waitwaitwait! I can’t take-oh shit.” The words are ripped from your throat and you keen.
Bucky’s tongue becomes frenzied, a flurry of motions that send pulse after pulse of sensations through you. Tears burn your eyes, noises you don’t even recognize fall from your lips.
It only encourages Bucky, and he keeps going like you're his last meal and he needs to savor every drop you give him.
You fall forward on Steve’s firm chest, muffling your sobs into his shoulder. You inadvertently expose yourself more to Bucky and oh does he take advantage, his lips wrap around your swollen clit and he sucks you into his mouth so hard your back arches.
“Fuuuuk,” your thin wail resonates across the office, you don’t know how many times they discussed ways they were going to make you scream. And now that they’ve heard you, they’re addicted to the breathy sounds you make.
You dig your fingers into Steve’s shoulders and try to lift away from Bucky’s mouth, needing a break from the endless sensations forming inside you.
“Ah ah, let him eat mo chridhe.” Steve chides, pulling your hips back down. “Bucky’s been waiting so long to have a taste of you, you gotta let him finish. Is she everything you dreamed of?”
“So good, fuck Steve, she tastes so good.” Bucky moans into your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice ripple across your pulsating clit and you wail. They always work in tandem, and tearing you apart is no different.
“You hear how much he loves eating your pussy,” Steve groans, slipping his hand between your bodies, pushing Buckys tongue away so he can roll your clit between his calloused fingers, “Fuck you’re so wet for us, bet Buck’s face is drenched, that’s our good girl, make a mess on his face.”
Bucky huffs his annoyance, then he sees your entrance clenching, begging to be filled. And he gives your pussy what she wants, placing his hands on your cheeks, he thrusts his tongue inside you, sweeping it across your velvety walls.
“Oh god, Buc-ky” Your voice breaks as another pulse of sultry hot pleasure spirals throughout you, unable to keep your head up, you let it drop on his shoulder, the sensations steadily climbing over each other, pushing you closer to the edge. Your thighs tremble and they both feel it. Steve grabs your throat and tilts your head back.
“No, I wanna see you cum,” he demands, his fingers tracing an intricate pattern on your clit, his hand squeezing your throat just enough to make you lightheaded. “We need to know what you like mo chridhe so we can give to you again and again.” Steve brings your face down until your nose is touching his, increasing the pressure from fingers. You feel them everywhere. “Now tell me do you like this?”
“God yes, I like it. I like it. I-,” you cry out, the coil inside you snapping into a million little shards. And your orgasm barrels into you so hard your vision blurs into an array of shimmery white lights. “Ohmyfuckinggod.”
“That’s my girl.” Steve praises, slapping your ass.
As the orgasm winds down, your body becomes limp and pliant. More praise rains down on you, gentle words telling you how good you did, how you’re so perfect, such a good girl for us, we knew you’d be so good. Soft lips brush your skin, hands hold you, maneuvering you until you’re flat on the couch, your feet in Steve’s lap. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breaths shaky.
Your dazed eyes watch as Bucky stands up and grabs Steve by the collar. “Taste her,” he murmurs, crashing his lips into Steve’s. A deep, satisfied groan rumbles between them, and your spasming pussy throbs. They’re getting off on your taste and it makes you want them even more.
Breaking the kiss, they turn to you with matching grins. “So what do you say, Princesa?”
“Huh?” You don’t remember the question, hell you don’t remember your last name right now.
Steve shrugs. “Guess you need a little more convincing.”
“I do?” You stare at them for a second, your eyes drifting down to their massive bulges, a smirk forms on your face. “I do.”
“You heard her, Steve.” Bucky bends down, planting his hands above your head. “How many orgasms do you want today, sweetheart? How many until you agree to be our girl?”
Their unwavering lust and adoration give you an unexpected burst of confidence.
“How many can you give me?” you tease and instantly they're impressed
Bucky pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, his darkening eyes drinking you. “A lifetime if you let us. But we’ll start with as many as your tight little pussy can take in one day.”
You see Steve, reach around his waist and unbuckle Bucky’s belt, the faint clank ringing in your ears, his slacks fall to his feet, your eyes widen as his cock springs free.
Oh, that's more than you expected.
Steve grins at you over Bucky's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it fit."
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bucksfucks · 3 months ago
fuck you (derogatory)
Tumblr media
abstract ; a ruined mission turns to you & bucky fucking it out.
pairing ; tfatws!bucky x f!reader
word count ; 2,511 words
warnings ; enemies to fuckers, injury [ankle & ribs], food mention, blood mention, size kink, so much bickering, mocking, and degradation, pet names [kitty], hate sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bucky finished on reader, orgasm denial, edging, teasing, dom!bucky — 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI
notes ; i wrote this at the salon, ur welcome to my stylist <<3
The ground beneath your feet felt like glass. Digging into the arch of your foot as twigs and pebbles crunched and snapped under your weight. The act of lifting your feet was exhausting after getting body slammed a couple times.
“Can you hurry up?” Bucky then snapped, a few feet in front of you as you stopped to glare at him.
“No.” You spat back, resuming the same, turtle-like pace as Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes in pure annoyance.
He waited for you to catch up, heels digging into the dirt below his combat boots as he strutted off again.
That was the fundamental difference between you and Bucky; he was a super-soldier, but you were just a damn good spy.
“We’re not gonna make it back before it gets dark if you keep up this pace,” he doesn’t even turn his head to look at you as you mime strangling him as a way to get out your frustrations.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark, Barnes.” You mock him, nearly hearing the way his head snaps back and he has a look on his face that says he bites.
“Maybe if you just followed my fuckin’ orders we wouldn’t be here,” he barked and you felt your blood boiling.
How fucking dare he blame the mission going to shit on you?
You were ambushed, it was two to a hundred men in armoured suits with God-like powers that even Bucky had trouble fighting them off.
“Because your orders were stupid.” You hissed, finally catching up to him, intent on passing him before he gripped at your upper arm and grit his teeth.
His jaw was locked, “and now look where we are,” he snarled.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ annoying.” He bared his teeth at you, dropping your arm as you threw daggers at him with your eyes.
Both of your chests were heaving, there was dried blood on his eyebrow and your ribs were aching and possible broken or at the very least, fractured.
“Now keep up.” He said harshly, taking a step as you finally got to the end of your fuse.
“I’m not a fucking super-soldier!” The birds flew off their branches, startled at the loudness of your words as Bucky turned to look at you again.
His face softened, barely, before he sighed.
“Get on my back then,” he finally said and you laughed.
“I’m serious,” he reiterated. “It’s faster if I carry you.”
You shook your head, laughing still as you passed by him, “no fucking way, Barnes. We get there when we get there.”
He groaned, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out, but you were certain that it was something about how much of a pain in the ass you were.
This is how every mission went with Bucky, well, minus the getting ambushed part, that never happens.
But the bullying and fighting? Oh yeah. That was normal.
It had gotten so bad that you and Bucky usually weren’t allowed to be left alone in conference rooms because everyone was scared that you would either throw each other through it.
Or end fucking on the floor for all to see.
That thought had entered your mind more than once.
Sex usually shut a man up and you were desperate to get a moment’s of peace.
It didn’t help that you were forced to share a motel room with Bucky, getting complaints from every neighbour about the constant fighting and bickering.
Plus, it had been far too fucking long since you’ve gotten laid and you could use it.
God knows there was no way you could sneak an orgasm in the shower when hot water doesn’t exist in the first place at cheap motels.
Not to mention that Bucky Barnes is enhanced. And a light sleeper. If he caught you trying to get yourself off he would never let it go.
You were so close to saddling him up and riding him as a way to get him to shut the fuck up because while the man was hot as hell; you hated him.
The five kilometre hike through the woods back to the ironically named Lover’s Lane motel shouldn’t have taken as long as it did.
Because there was no way you were getting on Bucky’s back and your ankle had started showing tell-tale signs of swelling as your limp grew more noticeable.
“Oh my God,” Bucky said, exasperated. “It’s like watchin’ Bambii learn how to walk. Will you just get on my back so I can carry you the rest of the way?”
Bucky was quite literally begging you at this point, anxious to get into a shower and well, yeah, you were too.
You didn’t say anything as you hopped onto his back, getting a piggyback from the six foot five super-soldier as your legs swung against his thighs.
It was kind of nice. He was warm, and the sun had set a little while ago, cold night air started to creep beneath the fabric of your clothes.
The motel was in your sights, right on the horizon and you and Bucky blew sighs of relief.
You had to admit, Bucky was fast and quiet as he weaved through the trail, taking a few shortcuts until you were sneaking back into the hotel room with the rusty key you’d been given.
Bucky’s kindness didn’t last long, because the second the door shut he dropped you from his back as you barely had enough time to catch yourself.
A hiss left your lips when you tried to apply weight to your ankle, groaning as you realized that this would most definitely take more than a single night to heal.
Sometimes you were incredibly jealous at the serum running through Bucky’s veins, because the cut above his eyebrow was nearly healed.
“‘M gonna get you some ice for your ankle.” Bucky grumbled, not giving you a choice or chance to respond before he was off to the ice machine.
You took the chance to take the shower first, grabbing a change of clothes and letting the lukewarm water wash the dirt and blood off of your body.
Bucky made his entrance loud right as you turned the water off.
The bed was calling your name. That and an entire large, greasy pizza to yourself as you pulled your clothes over your body and stepped out of the bathroom.
“You better not have used up all of the hot water,” Bucky grumbled as you just scoffed at him and made your way to the bed to ice your ankle.
You watched him disappear into the bathroom, a few moments of silence as you checked your phone for any updates.
Bucky’s showers never lasted long, he was bred on efficiency and speed and it made you wonder if that’s how he fucked.
Your thoughts were interrupted by towel clad Bucky emerging into the bedroom making you scoff and roll your eyes.
“Put some clothes on, no one wants to see that.”
His towel clung to his hips, just barely hanging on for dear fucking life as you averted your eyes back to nothing on your phone.
Bucky chuckled, deep and low as a dark smirk spread over his lips.
“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you have to do is ask.” He snickered and you tossed your phone to the end of the bed.
“Why?” You narrowed your eyes at him, “so you can fuck me for two minutes and ask me if I came?”
Bucky was eerily calm for the words that just came out of your mouth. And that couldn’t be good.
“Oh, have you forgotten?” He took a step closer to where you were sat on the bed.
“I’m a super-soldier, Kitty,” the pet name sent a delicious shiver down your spine.
“I’m not like the men you see on the streets. I’m so much better.” He’s nearly purring right in your face as you feel his hot breath.
You gulp, swallowing thickly. “Besides,” he smirks, “I hear you callin’ my name in your sleep. That cunt of yours is practically beggin’ for my touch.”
Oh fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
For the first time in forever, you were at a loss for words.
Complete speechless as Bucky straightened his spine.
There’s a weird tension in the air, thick and palpable and maybe you’re trying to see the thing that you want to see, but there’s a growing tent under Bucky’s towel.
“Fucking you won’t change the way I feel about you,” you finally manage to say.
Though your voice is raspy and weak, confidence faltering entirely as Bucky laughs.
“You may still hate me, but you’ll love my cock.”
Fuck him.
He throws a wink in your direction, “come and get it, Kitty.”
Oh how you hate him, but you want this too bad so you have to swallow your pride as adrenaline courses through your body temporarily relieving the aching of your ankle.
You’re quick, but Bucky is much faster and he can see right through you.
He has you pinned against the wall, slamming you against it so hard the painting falls off with an unceremonious thud.
“Aww, you’re so cute,” he mocks you. “I know you think you’re tough and shit.” His words are like venom seeping through your pores.
“But I’m still the super-soldier. Which means your cute ‘lil sparring moves are useless.”
His hips rut against yours, bulge growing and fuck he feels big already.
It had been too long since you’d gotten laid, you needed this. But you weren’t too happy about feeding Bucky’s ego.
“Quit making excuses and let’s get to fucking.” You huff, squiring under him and it makes him groan as his dick twitches.
He doesn’t say anything, instead he slams his lips against yours in a harsh and messy kiss. It’s teeth and tongue, clanging and fighting for control as he gropes your ass.
“You may be fuckin’ annoyin’,” he pants. “But your ass distracts me on every goddamn mission.”
He’s squeezing the supple flesh, giving it ample attention before you’re yanked off the wall and thrown onto one of the beds.
It creaks under both of your weights, Bucky pinning you to the bed as you begin tearing off each other’s clothing.
Well, the towel that covers Bucky.
It’s clear that you’re both desperate.
Your panties are soaked, drenched, and you know Bucky is going to say something the second he glides his fingers through your folds.
“‘M not surprised at how wet you are, Kitty,” he grins devilishly. “‘Cause I could smell you a whole 15 minutes ago when you stepped out of the shower.”
Goosebumps rise to your skin as his cold digits come in contact with your clit, rubbing it before he’s coating his fingers further.
“Or when you’re asleep and practically humpin’ your pillow in your sleep,” he continues to tease you, fingering you slowly.
“You make the prettiest fuckin’ sounds for someone who gets on my nerves every waking hour.”
He then pauses, palming both your tits.
“And now I finally get to taste you, Kitty.” You know what he’s doing, bending your legs for you before sinking to the edge of the bed.
He inhaled sharply, “fuck.”
“Didn’t think I’d ever see such a cute pussy.” You’re writhing under him and he hasn’t even touched you.
“Bucky I swear to God—“
He cuts you off with a lick to your core, hot tongue lapping at whatever you have to offer him and it sends you into a frenzy.
“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy,” he growls against you, the vibrations a pleasant surprise as he continues to ear you out like a starving man.
It’s messy, Bucky spitting over you before he’s teasing you with two thick fingers.
Two thick fingers that curl deep inside of you until you’re on the brink of your orgasm and nearly in tears.
“All you gotta do is say the magic word, Kitty,” he taunts you, keeping you right on the brink as you let out a cross between a sob and a whine.
“Please,” you croak. “I jus’ wanna cum.”
He pauses inside of you, feeling your walls fluttering around him before his mouth is around your clit again.
You’re falling apart, and it hits you harder than you expected.
So hard that you think you’re about to black out.
Bucky’s panting, cock hard and heavy against your hip as you manage to open your eyes just in time for him to slot his lips over yours.
“I jus’ wanted to hear you beg,” he smirks, watching the way you roll your eyes, but he pinches you inner thigh.
“Don’t get an attitude or you won’t get my cock.”
You just huff, “s’not like I know what ‘m missing out on.” You shrug.
You see the way Bucky’s pupils dilate at your words.
That’s when you’re flipped over, harsh spank to your right cheek as Bucky places a bionic arm between your shoulder blades as an attempt to keep you pinned to the bed.
You whimper.
“Well then why don’t I fuckin’ show you.” He purrs, pushing the tip of his cock into you.
It makes you shiver, whining under him, “Bucky.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He cooes mockingly, but he stops halfway.
You’re wiggling your hips, or at least you’re trying to. But he does t budge.
“I could jus’ stay like this,” he whispers in your ear.
“I could even just fuck your thighs, leave you a drippin’ mess.” He threatens as you gurgle out a no.
He chuckles deeply, “then beg.”
You close your eyes, Bucky’s cock half inside of you as you suck in a harsh breath.
“I said beg, not use your manners.”
You’re soaking him, coating him in your arousal at this point.
“Fuck me, Bucky. Please. I-I need you, please.” You hiccup, once again on the verge of tears as he hums.
“We’ll work on that,” he teases, but pushes in until he’s balls deep.
He leaves you quivering, the position making it easy for him to hold you down as he absolutely fucks you.
And he fucks you hard.
You’re not sure if the bed is going to survive the night, but you don’t give a single shit. Because Bucky is balls deep inside of you and letting out the filthiest moans.
“This doesn’t change anythin’,” he pants. “I still hate your fuckin’ guts.”
His thrusts are slowly getting sloppy.
“The only difference now,” you squeak when he hits the spot, making sure to concentrate all his efforts on doing that again.
“Is that I’m in your guts.”
Your coil snaps, biting down on the gross motel sheets as you cum.
Bucky pulls out, fisting his cock and painting your back and ass with a shudder and moan that rumbles through the room before it’s silent again as he falls onto the bed beside you. 
“God,” he pants. “I really fuckin’ hate you, but I might be in love with your pussy.”
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