#bucky barnes imagine
With This Ring
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 596
Summary: Bucky wakes you up in the middle of the night...
Author’s Note: I needed to get this out. So here it is and I have to thank my husband... 😁 Thank you all so much for reading! Hope you enjoy! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf
Warnings: soft fluffer smut, lots of teasing touches, fingering, smut (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)
Gifs NOT MINE: Credit for the first to @captaincentenarian and the second to @unearthlydust thank you both so much! 🥰
A warm hand slowly slides around your waist as Bucky presses his chest to your back and pulls you closer. You shift into his embrace, still in a dreamlike state when his lips fall to the crook of your neck and trail down your skin.
You give him a satisfied hum, your hand closing around his metal fingers that rest over your stomach. His nose brushes the shell of your ear and he gently pulls the soft flesh of your earlobe between his teeth. You gasp and tilt your head to expose more of your neck, your movements languid in your haze of sleep.
He releases your hand, ghosting his metal fingers down your stomach to tease the lace trim at your hips. His mouth is warm and wet at your shoulder, his lips a delicate touch that sends shivers down your spine.
He dips a finger under the lace and traces circles on your skin, feather light and tantalizing. He moves lower and brushes over your clit before drawing his finger back up and tracing along your hips. He does this again and again, always teasing before he pulls away.
You press yourself against him, your breathing becoming heavier with every pass of his hand. You reach up and close your hand around his arm, the metal sliding smoothly under your fingertips as you trace them down over the whirring plates to his wrist.
With a tight grip you push his hand lower, a silent plea. You can feel him smile into your neck, his lips never far from your skin and his fingers ghosting over your skin.
Your arousal pools between your legs and when is fingers move down he groans into your neck, collecting the wetness and rubbing it over you. He continues to tease you with his touch, your fingers tight around his wrist with desperation.
He finally gives you what you want, pushing one thick finger inside you and slowly pumping it in and out. Your hips roll with his movements and you slide your hand lower and place it over his, your fingertips brushing over his wedding ring.
You toy with the metal band, worn and abraded as it circles his finger. He breathes into your neck, sliding a second finger into you. You ride his hand and chase your release. Your stomach tightens and you gasp his name but he removes his fingers before you finish and flips you onto your stomach.
You whine at the loss but it quickly turns into a moan when he presses the weight of his body over you and spreads your legs with his thigh. He slides his cock through your folds, coating himself with your juices before he slowly pushes inside inch by inch.
He deliberately rocks his hips, the motion making his dog tags brush along your back. His metal fingers graze over the curves of your body and close around your hip as he tilts you up and pushes deeper.
Your walls tighten around him and you grip the pillows, falling apart with his name as a breathless whisper on your lips. He pulses inside you, laying his chest to your back as he fills you up. His warm lips meet your shoulder before he turns you over and curls you under his arm, your cheek resting on his chest.
He brings your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one before he whispers, “moye serdtse tak polno vami, chto ya ne mogu nazvat yego svoim.”
Translation: My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own
@book-dragon-13 @beefybuckrrito @christywantspizza @duchessoftheheart @dreamlessinparis @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @musicalmuffindog1410 @moongreydreams @soldatbvcky @saiyanprincessswanie @suchababie @late-to-the-party-81 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @maladaptivexxdaydreaming
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summary: bucky’s moody and rude to everyone except you (the “i hate everyone but you” trope)
pairing: bucky barnes x female reader
word count: 1k
warning: just swearing, i tried to make this fluffy
author’s note: hey y’all just a lil something i whipped up for u <3
masterlist | send requests
Bucky was seconds away from smashing the phone in Sam’s hand. His so-called “partner” decided it was unacceptable that he’d only liked 40s music. He’d taken it upon himself to play his playlist aloud inside the jet, forcing Bucky to be subjected to his strange music taste.
“Will you please turn this shit off?” Bucky said, his patience wearing thin.
“Ah, c'mon man! You don’t like anything,” Sam said, turning the music down slightly.
“That’s not true.”
“That’s definitely true!”
Bucky’s jaw clenched as Sam went back to listening to his tunes. He liked Sam, he was his family now. But god, did he get on his nerves sometimes. He glared up at Captain America, watching the man do small dances with his arms, trying to make Bucky crack.
“Man, do you ever smile?” Sam asked, finally turning his music off. He could see his friend was not enjoying it.
“He smiles all the time,” Bucky’s head perked up at the sound of your voice. You made your way from the back of the jet up to the guys, settling down in the seat next to Bucky. “Besides, he has a different scowl for every mood.”
Sam just laughed as Bucky sighed at your comment. The tension and frustration he felt earlier melted away in your presence. You leaned against his side, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Hey, play some Taylor Swift,” you told Sam, your hands playing with Bucky’s vibranium fingers.
“Nope, can’t do that. Cyborg here doesn’t like music!” Sam retorted.
“Put it on,” Bucky said, flat and monotone.
Sam grumbled under his breath as he scrolled through his phone, finding the music to play. A bright smile spread across your face, beaming up at Bucky. His scowl was gone, now replaced with a soft smirk.
“Hey Buck, can you set the table for me?” you asked, finishing up the pasta you had cooking on the stove.
Bucky left his spot, glued at your side, to do as you asked. After a particularly grueling mission, you offered to make dinner for the boys at your and Bucky’s shared apartment. Sam and Torres were in your living room, going over a mission report. As Bucky finished setting the table, you waved the two over to join you. You all gathered around the table, Bucky pressed against your side on the bench seat, whispering soft thank yous into your ear.
It was rare to get together like this. To just relax and not think about missions or government conflicts. Just bonding over your cooking with friendly banter and conversation.
“No, but did you see Bucky whip out on the stairs today?” Sam asked the table, laughing hard as he recalled the moment from your mission earlier. Bucky just rolled his eyes as the table chuckled at his embarrassment.
“I was kicked in the back of the legs,” he said, his voice low as he kept eating.
“Don’t get upset, Tin Man,” Sam said; Torres, laughing at the name.
“Don’t call me that,” Bucky said, shooting a glare at the two across the table.
“Right, right, no nicknames. We remember,” Torres said, nudging Sam as the two laughed.
You watched the whole interaction, keeping your laughter internal, just a soft grin on your face.
“Hey, pretty boy, can you pass me the parmesan?” you asked.
Bucky just smiled, passing you the cheese. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as you chuckled to yourself at Sam’s agape mouth. Putting the cheese down, you rested your head against his shoulder. “Thanks, hun.”
“What the hell!” Sam said. “You said you hated nicknames!”
“She can call me whatever she wants,” Bucky said, rubbing his hand against your shoulder.
“That’s bullshit!” Bucky slammed his hands on the table before quickly storming out of the briefing room.
You sat in your chair, stunned at his outburst. You knew he didn’t like going on certain missions, especially ones that involved Hydra. The military had asked for his and Sam’s help in clearing out an old Hydra base that was showing suspicious activity. Though he hated returning to those days, he was willing to help. Until he found out you were asked to go too. That’s where he drew the line.
He refused to let you step one foot into that place. He knew you were a skilled fighter, possibly more so than him. But the thought of you in the place that caused him so much pain and suffering made his stomach drop.
After a moment, you looked across the table to Sam. A soft nod from the Captain was all you needed before rushing out the doors, looking for your Bucky. Down the empty hallway, you saw him. Resting against the wall on the floor, his knees tucked to his chest. The familiar scowl on his face, his clenching and unclenching.
“Baby,” you said, slowly approaching him. Looking up at you, his mask fell revealing a soft frown. He lowered his legs and reached up with his arms inviting you in. Your arms wrapped around his torso, resting in his hold on the ground.
“I don’t want you anywhere near that place,” he whispered, his face pressed into your hair.
“I know, baby. But you’ll be there the whole time. It’s gonna be okay,” you said, rubbing soft patterns into his back.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. I need you, I need you safe,” Bucky pulled back, taking your face in his hands.
“And I don’t want anything to happen to you. It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” you said, pressing your face further into his touch.
He held you close in his arms on the cold floor, caging you in his warmth. He’d never felt as strong for someone as he felt for you. You were an anomaly. A mishap that never should’ve happened for him. But you were there and you loved him. He’d die before he let anyone think of taking you away.
“Think we can head back in?” you asked.
“Give me five more minutes, I just wanna hold my girl,” he said, his grasp around you tightening.
“Fine, but you better be on your best behavior after.”
“I always am!”
“Please, you’re such a grouch.”
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Undisclosed - Five
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
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.”
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.
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.
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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Caught in the Fire 22 - Wrong Turn [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves ❤ Here’s the new chapter, I hope you like it and please don’t forget to tell me what you think of it! kisses!❤
Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Then, the storm hits.
Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, drinking, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
That day, contrary to how it ended, started like any other day.
Even though you realized way later on that you should’ve suspected something was off, you were way too distracted by the upcoming day and how you were about to be late because you had slept in. By the time you were at the bakery, you were quite sure that you had broken a traffic rule or two, so maybe it was a good thing that all the cops were told to leave you be.
You knew very well where that order had come from.
“I know, I know!” you said as you rushed through the door and Josh tilted his head, shooting you a surprised look.
“And what time do you call this, young lady?”
“Josh, I’m older than you.”
“The most inappropriate!” he said what you thought was a mimicry of a British accent and you pulled your brows together.
“What’s with the accent?”
“My girlfriend made me watch Downtown Abbey,” he stated. “I just…everything is so dramatic and I understand none of it.”
“Things we do for love,” you commented and made your way to the kitchen with him following you.
“So um- I don’t know if I should ask this or go straight to Mr. Barnes,” he said as you tied your apron over your waist.
“I have a question, and I don’t know whether to involve you or go to him, you know, bro code stuff. Bros before hoes—“ he cleared his throat when he saw the look on your face. “Respectfully. Um…not that I would ever think of you or any woman as a- as a-“ he waved his hands around. “Bros before ladies.”
“Bucky is not your bro.”
“Well no, but he has had girlfriends right? Like, serious girlfriends before you?”
You raised your brows, then shrugged your shoulders.
“I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it.”
“You haven’t talked about your exes?”
“We haven’t talked about his exes,” you paused for a moment. “Wait, why didn’t we talk about his exes? Why does he know about my exes and I don’t know about his?”
“That sounds like a you problem, but we’re talking about me right now Y/N, pay attention.”
You threw your hands up, “Okay, I guess he had serious girlfriends. I know he slept around and I saw one of his exes on Instagram.”
“You stalked his Instagram?”
“That’s a me problem, we’re talking about you right now.”
“Was she hot?”
“So hot,” you murmured to yourself and Josh tilted his head.
“For some reason, when I think of him in a relationship I have this image of a woman like…Playboy model meets Lara Croft meets that hot vampire lady from that movie.”
“Thanks a lot Josh.”
“No I mean, I see him with you first obviously! But if he wasn’t with you….”
“What’re you going to ask him?”
“Right!” he snapped his fingers, “So I want to do everything right with my girlfriend whom I love very much, have I mentioned I’m—“
“In love yes. You throw that in every single conversation somehow. I was talking about flour the other day and you managed to mention that you’re in love, that’s a whole new talent.”
“Love changes a man, Y/N,” he said, making you scrunch up your face. “So I want to do something very romantic for our first night together-“
“Wha-no!” you cut him off, “No! Josh, you’re too young to spend the night with your girlfriend!”
“I’m eighteen, dumbass. So is she.”
“Exactly, too young!” you said. “Do you even- ew no!”
“What’s happening to the world?”
“You’re getting old, that’s what’s happening,” Josh said helpfully. “I should’ve just asked your boyfriend.”
“I don’t think you should follow Bucky’s example, he would probably tell you to buy the girl like…limited edition million dollar candles or something.”
“I have like fifty bucks,” he said. “So can I ask him then? No offense but you’re kind of terrible at this.”
You shook your head, then shrugged.
“Yeah sure. Ask him if you want.”
“Nope, not going there with you!” he called out as he left the kitchen and you huffed out, then groaned.
“Jesus, I’m definitely getting old,” you murmured and grabbed your phone, then touched Bucky’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. You frowned and waited to hear the beep, then cleared your throat.
“Hi Buck,” you said. “I guess you’re in a meeting or something. Or probably went home to pass out, whichever. I just called to say good morning, and um… Josh is going to ask you something stupid I think, and I wanted to let you know beforehand because—you know how he is. Also, I think I’m getting old.” You let out a laugh. “Anyway, be careful. Call me when you can.”
You hung up, put the phone on the counter, then walked to the freezer.
Bucky still hadn’t called you or texted you by the lunch time, which was something that nearly never happened. You were getting more curious by the minute and you stepped outside the minute you had some free time, and leaned back on the wall of the bakery, turning your phone in your hands. You scrolled down the texts you had sent, then huffed out and touched his name again, taking the phone to your ear.
Voicemail, just like the last time.
“Hey,” you muttered. “It’s me. Again. I don’t want to be too…uh- clingy or something but I haven’t heard from you and it’s not like you have such a peaceful line of work so I guess you could tell where I’m coming from.”
You took a deep breath, nibbling your lip.
“And I totally get if you want to be left alone or something, but just – send me a text? A letter even, just to let me know you’re okay and not shot or at the hospital or… something worse. Please?”
You rubbed at your eye.
“So yeah. I hope you’re okay, call me,” you said and hung up, then groaned to yourself and closed your eyes.
“Hard day at the office?”
You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at Steve who shot you a sympathetic look. You tilted your head.
“Something like that,” you said. “Have you seen Bucky? Or talked to him?”
You pulled your brows together. “What? When?”
“I mean I called him and he texted me to say he’s busy.”
“You got a text back?” you asked and Steve shrugged.
“Yeah?” he said, “Why?”
“I think he’s ignoring me.”
He scoffed. “Bucky is ignoring you? Yeah and hell froze over.”
“No I’m serious,” you said, your heart skipping a beat and he pulled back.
“Are you sure?”
“Steve I left like two voicemails and multiple texts, he’s not getting back to any of them.”
“What the fuck?” he asked. “Are you sure your phone is working?”
“Of course I’m sure!” you insisted. “It’s just… I mean everything was fine the last time I talked to him.”
“No,” you said. “No he…the opposite actually, he gave me a list of why I should move in with him.”
“Oh you guys are moving in together? Congrat-“
“No!” you cut him off, “We’re not moving in, we’ve just started dating. I don’t even know where he got that idea from.”
“Are you surprised?” he asked. “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about, I’m pretty sure he already planned the names of your kids.”
“Our hypothetical kids have names?”
“Mm hm. Spoiler alert, he wants to name one of them after his father.”
“Jesus Christ,” you turned the phone in your hand. “I’m going to pull a psycho girlfriend and drop by his place if he doesn’t get back to me until the evening.”
“He’s not gonna mind,” he waved a hand in the air. “It’s probably a business thing by the way. I used the business number, that might be why he saw my text.”
“Maybe,” you murmured, looking down at the phone. “I guess we’ll see tonight.”
“I’ll text him to let you know, don’t worry. Hey, maybe he’s picking a ring?”
“To repeat, we’ve just started dating,” you said, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at the implication. “And Steve?”
“I know you’re a gentleman but I’m just going to say it anyway, just in case,” you said. “Summer? Bad idea, a very bad idea.”
The smile on his lips was almost too innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh I’m sure not,” you said. “But hypothetically, if a mobster went after Summer, she would…eat that person alive.”
“She looks harmless.”
Steve thought for a moment, “Okay no, she looks a little scary to be honest.”
“There you go,” you muttered. “Well as far as I’m concerned, that was a disclaimer and I can’t be held responsible for anything to come concerning my best friend.”
He held up his hands. “Understood,” he said. “Now let me find my best friend and tell him his girl is mad at him for not picking up the goddamn phone, I’m going to enjoy this.”
You made a face at him, “Tell him to call me!” you called out before making your way inside the bakery.
He was going to call you eventually anyway.
Except that he didn’t. When it was time to close down the bakery, your phone still had no sign of any calls or even a text. No matter how much you tried to ignore that small voice in your head that told you something was wrong, eventually it got louder and louder so after you closed down the bakery and locked it, you approached the car and lingered there for a moment.
Bucky had asked you to move in with him after all, and you couldn’t reach his phone to ask whether it was okay to drop by.
“Fuck it,” you murmured to yourself. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
You got in the car and started driving to Bucky’s house, stress making your stomach flip but you tried to convince yourself that everything was fine and you’d just make sure he was alright and not dead in a ditch and just leave for your place.
If he wanted to be left alone, it was.
When you pulled over in front of the building, you took a deep breath and left your car, then made your way to the building. Even if you wished desperately that you could just take the elevator to your boyfriend’s apartment like any normal individual, your boyfriend wasn’t a normal individual so you had to approach the reception desk to give your name. For a moment you thought he wouldn’t answer to their phone call, but apparently you were the only one he was ignoring so after a beat the receptionist turned to you and snapped his fingers at one of the men by the entrance so that he could accompany you to the elevator just like the last time.
Your heart was pounding in your ears but you threw your shoulders back and walked down the hall after you and the man stepped out of the elevator. He knocked on the door for you, and Bucky opened it.
He was alive alright.
“Come in.” Bucky told you, averting his bloodshot eyes from yours and you furrowed your brows, then walked into the apartment so that he could close the door behind you. You tilted your head at the sight of half-finished whiskey he was holding in his hand, then followed him to the living room, Alpine meowing at you. You bent down to scratch at her head, then straightened your back when he downed the whiskey and walked to the cabinet to fill himself another one.
He didn’t even turn around as he tilted the bottle, watching the amber liquid fill the glass.
You nibbled on your lip.
“Well then- what the hell?” you asked with a nervous laughter. “Is there any reason why you’ve been ignoring my calls?”
He put the bottle on the cabinet, then turned to you and held up the glass.
“No!” you exclaimed. “No, I don’t want a drink, I want to know what’s going on.”
“Was busy,” he said, sipping his drink as he leaned back to the cabinet and you raised your brows.
“You were busy.”
“The whole day? You were busy the whole day?”
“Were you busy up until I got here?” you asked, “Because that bottle suggests otherwise?”
He scoffed a bitter laugh. “I was thinking things over, so….” he murmured and you eyed him up and down, then took a step towards him.
“Buck?” you said. “What is it? I know you, this is not like you. What’s wrong?”
His jaw clenched but he tapped his rings against the glass, looking down at it. You heaved a sigh and reached out to cup his cheek, making him close his eyes for a second.
“Hey,” you said. “Come on, it’s me. Whatever it is, we can solve it.”
“Don’t say that,” he croaked out as he walked past you to the middle of the living room, taking a huge sip of the whiskey.
“Why not?” you asked. “Listen, if it’s about—“
“This is not working for me anymore.”
Your head snapped up. “I’m sorry?”
“I want to break up.”
That felt like a sucker punch. Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared up at him, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what was happening.
This was Bucky for heaven’s sake. You had to have been imagining this, there was no way this was real.
He gritted his teeth and nodded, not even able to look you in the eye.
“No, I—you—“ you stammered and shook your head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He ran a hand over his scruff. “It’s just not working okay?”
“Bullshit,” you managed to say, making his gaze shoot up to yours.
“No, just yesterday you were talking about moving in together, now it’s not working?” you asked. “Bullshit. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ve had a chance to think things over,” he rasped out. “Is that what you want to hear?”
Your jaw dropped. “I want to hear the truth!”
“The truth?” he repeated with a bitter chuckle, “Nah, I don’t think you want to hear the truth.”
“Try me,” you growled and he paused for a moment, then clicked his tongue.
“Fine then, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His voice held no emotion whatsoever. “It was better when I was imagining it.”
You blinked a couple of times, desperate to keep the tears rushing to your eyes at bay.
“I’ve spent the last ten years dreaming of having you,” he said, as if he couldn’t see how hard you were trying to keep it together. “Idealizing you. And now that I have you, it’s just not the same. I thought I could deal with it, but I can’t. It just hit me today, I can’t. It’s not enough, you can’t even…compete.”
Your throat tightened as the bitterness spread through your mouth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you managed to ask, your question way too quiet for your liking and he took a deep breath.
“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway,” he said, “My father had a point, all those years ago. I was just too blinded to see it, he made the right choice.”
You sniffled and cleared your throat, anger pulsing through you like liquid fire in your veins.
“You’ll thank me in the future,” he said, “This life would just ruin you, you don’t—“ he stopped himself and you raised your brows despite the disbelief consuming you.
“No, go on,” you said, managing to keep your voice from cracking by some miracle. “Finish that sentence. Not like I didn’t hear it from your mother before. I don’t have what it takes?”
“You deserve normalcy,” he said after a beat and you dug your fingernails into your palms hard enough to hurt.
“That makes one of us then,” you murmured through frozen lips. “Because turning into your father is exactly what you deserve.”
He swallowed thickly and gritted his teeth.
“Are you done?” he asked as if the mere presence of you was annoying him. You could barely believe this was the same man who had whispered into your ear he loved you when he thought you were asleep on the couch, the same man who had carried you upstairs, barely able to kiss you because he was smiling so wide.
The slow murmur pulled you out of the sleep you were about to surrender to and you shifted a little in his arms.
“Are you sleeping?”
You opened an eye and raised his arm so that you could check his wristwatch before you whined.
“Bucky, it’s 3 a.m!”
He pulled your naked body close to him before you rolled onto your back to look up at him.
“What is it?” you whispered and he brushed his lips to yours, making you heave a sigh as he pulled back, his hand still cupping your cheek.
“Tell me I won’t lose you.”
You pulled your brows together. “What?” you asked. “Did you have a nightmare?”
He shook his head.
“No, I was just thinking,” he said. “I... I need to know I won’t lose you, okay?”
Something in his voice made your heart skip a beat and you smiled softly.
“I love you so much that it scares the fuck out of me,” the confession left his lips in a whisper. “And I don’t know what would become of me if I… if you weren’t here. Tell me I won’t lose you.”
Your smile widened and you reached up to kiss him, running your fingernails over the nape of his neck.
“You won’t,” you whispered back. “I promise you okay? I’ll always be here, no matter what.”
You snapped out of the memory as you felt a tear escape from your eye and you wiped it with the back of your hand, sniffling.
“Yeah,” you nodded, the simple word coming out as a whisper. “Yeah Bucky, I’m done.”
You walked past him to the door, then pulled it open and slammed it behind you.
You managed to repress the sobs climbing up your throat until the elevator took you downstairs and you rushed out of the building, barely aware of getting into your car until you found yourself driving down the road.
You had to get out. Out of Bucky’s territory, out of Steve’s, out of Sam’s, out of anywhere that had anything to do with any of them. You didn’t even know where you were driving to but something inside you knew where to go. It was only when you reached the bakery that you pulled over, your tires making a screeching sound as you slammed on the brakes.
Neutral ground. Away from anyone’s influence and power, somewhere simple, somewhere safe, somewhere—
Tears were stinging your eyes and a fire burned through your throat, making you lose your breath. The whimper that ripped itself from your chest didn’t even sound like it belonged to you as you gasped for air, burying your face in your palms and pulling your knees up to your chest before the sobs took over.
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Y/N: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your “cottage in the forest” that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to “my cabin in the woods” you’re going to die.
Bucky: My favorite is explaining the difference between a “butt dial” and a “booty call”.
Natasha: It is called connotations.
Loki: Then how doyou explain “Forgive me father, I have sinned” and “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty”?
Y/N *turns to Natasha excited*: How about-
Natasha: You are not going to switch to "Forgive me mother, I have sinned" when we're at it.
Y/N *pouting*: But it sounds so cool.
Natasha: ... Ok, maybe just once.
Loki: I did not need to know that.
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Can I get a Bucky x reader 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
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…”
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.”
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Read My Mind
nerd!Bucky × reader
Summary: you remind Bucky of his love for books
Word count: 1.8k+
Warnings: none. Just fluffy. Soft. Soft. Bucky. Like very baby.
Author's note: yes, James saying he read the Hobbit in '37 has played games on my mind
This is my first one for Bucky. Go easy on me babes.
LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED.
The set up was about as perfect as it could get without the valuable input of your boyfriend - the couches were drawn out, the blankets perfectly warm and the lights were dimmed down so you could only see about a foot away from where you stood.
The only thing missing now was, probably, information about the exact books and material he would appreciate on this occasion.
It had been one of the toughest weeks of your life, holding in the itch to just pop the question before him, interrogate him out of every bit he could give you and then just stack all the right books on the shelf.
But I guess that's how surprises worked. You were not allowed to tell.
You tip toe across the room to the telephone in the hallway, dialing Sam's place so he could return your boyfriend back to you for the night.
"Hellou.", he answers in an accent, the eyebrow raise literally audible through the receiver. You hold the handset to your ear, giggling slightly at the idea of a literal oldschool phone in the otherwise tech-savvy environment of your apartment.
Old habits die hard, dont they? At least with Bucky, they did. Maybe someday you'd buy him a phone booth as well. For old times sake.
"Yeah. I think it's time for you to let Buck come over.", you answer, staring at your image in the mirror next to you. You weren't really able to decide on cozy or sexy for the night, but the bookworm side of you had decided to go with your sweats after all.
"Hey, James. Your little woman wants you home, man!", Sam shouts into the phone, your eyes widening in horror at the absolute avalanche this would start.
"You didnt just do that!", you hiss, ready to throw the reciever across the hall in case Bucky decided he wanted to talk. You were super bad at keeping things from him and you didnt need your limits tested.
"No, of course, I didn't.", he laughs. You can hear his hand slap his thigh, your eyes closing as you wait for his wave of hysteria to end. "No, Barnes is in the backyard helping me with that piece of shit car I've got. But honey, it sure is fun messing with you."
He laughs again like he just replayed the moment in his head, and this time you can't help but laugh along, the relief even apparent in the sound.
"Ok. Now go and get him. I'm waiting, jackass.", you remind.
"At your service, ma'am. Hey, Buck-", and with that the call cuts off to a white noise, your torso leaning against the wall as you set the receiver back on the stand.
You take the phone off the hook, in case of a distraction, your pulse rising every second as you over-think the success, and possible failure, of your campaign.
Would he even be ready to revisit that part of his life? Am I doing this right? Or should I have...
Procrastination came so easy to you, you often wondered if it would create a viable career.
But your brain waves were cut short by a gentle knock at your door, your steps loud and heavy as you run across the apartment to see your boyfriend.
"Hi, baby.", you greet him, your tone artificially polite like you were more a waitress at a restaurant. You swallow thickly and offer him the best smile you have.
But clearly, it does not work.
His already suspicious features now settle into a frown, his hands going around your waist as he kicks the door shut behind him.
"Hey, beautiful.", he murmurs, lips ghosting over yours as he walks you backward into the room. Used to the routine, your arms automatically loop around his neck, pulse falling back to normal as you enjoy his embrace.
"Sam seemed a little too pushy to send me over here.", he mentions, eyes immediately trained to your face to look for a reaction. "Can you tell me what that's about?"
You try to keep a poker face, smiling through the anticipation just till it's the perfect time to make the reveal. But the smell of books almost calls to you from the door you've conveniently left open a few feet away, and the surprise all but melts away from your mind.
"I got something for you.", you whisper, unfolding his arms from around you and intertwining your fingers through his. He smiles sweetly, still unsure of what this was about, but eager to find out.
"Close your eyes.", you instruct, his eyelids dropping almost instantly. You go up on your toes, hands covering his closed eyes from behind as you lead him towards your bedroom.
You position him right in the middle of the dimly lit area, manual blindfold coming off his face, his eyes taking a long second of stand-still to open to the view.
The gasp is audible in the silence of the room, your teeth incessantly biting your nails as you wait for a proper response. But Bucky is nearly gone. Lost in those flashes that his past refuses to return.
He takes a tentative step towards the bookshelf, and then another and another again until he's face to face with the hardbacks arranged in line. He raises a one finger, a singular index, like a child looking for the difference between dream and reality.
His digit glides along one of the spines, a smile breaking out on his face as he turns back to you.
"Do you like it?", you ask immediately, probably even before he can form a coherent answer.
"Its amazing.", he nods. His eyes shine in the orange glow of the lamp, his torso spinning back to the wooden shelf behind him.
"They're arranged in order, from 1900s to the latest ones at the right.", you mention, pointing in the general direction of arrangement. You quietly walk over to stand next to him, his eyes clearly lingering around 30s era that probably shaped his childhood.
"Where did you get these?", he asks absently, not quite in the room but still present enough to wonder.
"Well. I had these at my parents' place. My dad was a librarian and had all of these. I didnt know your style. So I just brought them all.", you explain. He turns his head when he sees you shrug, an arm coming around to crush you into his side, his lips planting a kiss on your head.
"And... what made you do this?", he asks with a smirk, realizing that he'd finally zeroed in on the iffy question. You squirm next to him, figuring out the best way to break your source of information.
"Well. I was speaking to Sam the other day...", you begin, turning his torso so now he's completely facing you.
"Oh, that bastard.", he snorts, shaking his head. But the little smile that lingers on his lips tells you that he's not really mad.
"And he mentioned some joke about the Hobbit? I wasn't really paying much attention until he said you'd read it... back then?" You pause for a second to let him process your words, his head nodding wordlessly as he waits for you to go on.
"And I kinda coaxed him into telling me that you did used to read as a kid. It kinda hurt that I never knew about this. But I loved having this in common with you. So I thought maybe I'd help you remember. With me.", you finish, voice trailing off into silence as you notice the slight droop of his mouth.
"Are you mad?", you ask finally, his eyes widening like you just asked him the stupidest thing.
"God. Fuck no. I'm just... I'm sorry I never told you.", he says softly. You can see the disappointment flood his eyes and you've never felt more of a need to comfort him.
"Hey! I dont blame you, baby. I know it's pretty fucking hard to talk about that stuff. I just did this so I could remake a lost memory. And give you a happy reminder. Of your other life.", you assure him. You pull him into a hug, his face resting snugly in your neck as you stand there for a moment.
"Thank you.", he mumbles into your neck, hand pressing your back closer to him.
"So now can we get down to the creating memories part? No tears. Just you, me and books.", you declare, his head shaking in awe as he picks you off the floor, leaving a peck on your lips.
"Pick a book.", you suggest, the two of you approaching the shelf again to make a decision.
"Any specific name popping into your mind?"
"Well, obviously I'd rather with the older ones for now. 30s. 40s. War era themes. They kinda hit home.", he rambles on, a happy little grin curving his lips.
"Ok. Sounds good. Let's start slow.", you agree.
"I think I used to love this one...", he murmurs, his hand reaching up to extract one of the hardbacks with a red spine, your eyes barely catching the name on the cover.
"Gone With the Wind?", you ask, amusement coloring your tone. He catches onto the change, eyebrow raising to your unexpected reaction.
"Why? You dont like it?", he asks, dubious.
"No! Of course I love it! It's just fun to watch you nerd out with me. Thrilling, really.", you nod. He narrows his eyes at you, sticking his tongue out playfully before his gaze strays over to the couches on the side.
"Let's go!", he sighs, his soul automatically drawn to the comfort of the seating, his body sinking into the cushions when he throws himself on it. He holds his hand out, asking you to join him, offering the best seating on display - his lap.
You sit into his torso, back against his chest, his lips coming down to kiss your neck before he opens the book. Your eyes are wide with curiosity, still trying to understand this side of his personality, trying to take in everything you see.
"Um, Buck?", you ask slowly, his eyes shifting back to yours from the words on the page.
"Yeah, doll? What is it?", he simply answers. His hand pulls you closer against him, his stubble rubbing lightly against your cheek as he awaits your query.
"Can you read aloud to me?", you request. His smile widens at the childish wonder in your eyes, his fingers holding the book open before you.
"Of course, babygirl.", and with another final peck on your head, he dives in.
You dont know how long it is, minutes, hours, days, but your heart cant get over the way his voice sounds as he turns page after page.
You cant stop staring at the little furrow between his brows when he's focused, that smirk when he remembers where the story is probably going and the goofy change of his tones when he immerses himself in the characters.
Somewhere along the line your eyelids start to droop, your mind swirling with the sound of his voice, your body comforted by his hold on your waist. You sink lower along his chest, pushing your legs onto the couch and snuggling into his neck.
He moves around to hold you closer, a smile on his lips as he warmly rests his cheek on top of your head, watching you drift off to sleep.
He remains silent after that, his eyes still unaccustomed to the concept of reading, his mind still desperate to grasp strands of the time that had long left him.
You wake up some hours later, your body still comfortably warm because of the man fallen asleep around you. His hand is lying by his side, the book slightly open where his thumb still rests between the pages.
You stretch out on his lap, moving off his thighs until your head rests against the arm of the couch. He awakens, startled, his eyes searching the darkness for you.
"Baby, come here.", you call him, stretching your arms out as he crawls over to bury his face in your chest.
"Thank you for the amazing surprise.", he mumbles, breath warm against your neck.
"Thank you for letting me be a part of this.", you kiss his head.
"Any time.", he chuckles, pulling you closer to him as you both fall asleep in each others arms, very much like they do in them books.
Your own version of the fairytale, if you will.
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No more running
Pairing: Mob Bucky Barnes x Mob boss daughter Reader
Warnings: Brief mentions of violence and fighting, cursing, mob business take-over, running away, bad parent, toxic chil - parent relationship, discussion of arranged marriage, but the love was real, lingering feelings, Reader is mean & insults Bucky, but she's doing it to protect herself, mentions of broken hearts 😭
The phone rang three times before the call was accepted.
“I found her, Sir.”
“Bring her home.” Was all that was said before the line was cut off.
Bucky put the phone in his breast pocket and leaned on the red mailbox, grounding his jaw as he observed the small bakery: World domination by cupcakes.
You were closing up, a happy whistle hanging on your lips, when you heard the front door bell sound.
“Sorry, we’re closed for today but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow.” You called cheerily from behind the curtain, but checked what was going on in the main room when you couldn’t hear the bell signaling the persons exit. You stopped in your tracks and your smile faded when you came face to face with your ex-fiance.
“Long time no see, Doll.” Bucky greeted. Your mouth went dry and your throat hurt when you tried to swallow.
“Bucky.” You nodded and took off your apron, folding it and setting it on the counter. He observed you with controlled stillness. There was a reason why he was your father’s favourite.
“So, you found me. Congrats.”
“You made it very difficult, kudos. But it’s time you stop being a brat and come home.” His jaw clenched at your nonchalantness.
“We both know that’s not happening. And as I told you and my father 3 years ago, I don't want anything to do with the family business. Nothing has changed since then, so you're only wasting your time, James." The grit of his teeth didn't go unnoticed by you, just like your laboured breath didn't go unnoticed by him. You both knew what is going to happen in the next few moments.
"My job was to find you and bring you home. Your father explicitly pointed out to get you back in whatever state as long as you're alive." Bucky fastened his leather gloves and locked the front door. Your gaze shifted to the back room.
"You think you can outrun me, Doll?" He smirked before you sprinted through the curtain, hearing Bucky jumping through the counter, following you. Running from him reminded you of your younger days, when your father insisted that even though you were a girl, you would be taking over his empire and as such needed proper skills. Bucky became your instructor and not once made it easy on you.
You slid under the small crack of the storage door and made your way to the back allies. You glanced back and saw his metallic arm gripping the door, creating a large dent where he gripped it, before slamming it open, an angry expression overtaking his normally handsome features. You knew you couldn't outrun or beat him, but then your physical strength was never the reason why you were able to beat him, it was your mental abilities, but quite honestly you weren't expecting for Bucky or your father to ever find you and this visit actually caught you by surprise. At this moment, you knew being quick on your feet wasn't necessary only literally.
You changed your strategy and jumped on the metal fence on your right, to climb over it. Bucky was able to catch up with you and just as you were about to swing your other leg over the fence he grabbed it to pull you back down. You looked down at him, before kicking your leg as much as you could to get free before kicking him in the nose.
"Fuck!" Bucky cursed as blood poured out of his nose. You knew then that you really rattled the tigers cage. He tore open the metal fence with ease and advanced to you with a blank expression - you only saw it once in your life and you knew you were done for.
"That's enough, Doll."
You retreated backwards, wanting to get him away from the houses, at the very least. You didn't want anyone in this adorable little town to have to deal with your family. So you turned around again and ran.
"Doll..." Your chaser groaned before following you. He shouldn't have been surprised by your stubbornness, it has been your leading trait since he met you.
He finally caught you in the forest, where you finally stopped and faced him. Your eyes met his and you pulled out a knife out of your boot.
"Very well." Bucky smirked, the old you was still in there. You didn't say anything, there was no room for talking anymore. You took a step forward, swinging the knife at him, but he jumped away, avoiding the sharp blade. You began your fight, the knife changing between your hands in an effort to get the upper hand, but never fully striking him. The jacket he had on was full of small cuts, but he still hadn't bled properly.
"You need to stop before you really piss me off." Bucky warned as he avoided another one of your attacks.
"If I stop you'll take me back and the only way I'm going back is in a body bag." You spat.
"Doll, I swear if you don't knock this shit off..." He warned again before you finally landed a proper cut on him, slashing across his arm. He hissed and the expression on his face darkened. He charged at you slamming your back into the tree trunk and grabbing your hand so hard you dropped the knife. He kicked it away and his metal hand latched on to your throat and squeezed.
"Just surrender. Let me take you back." Bucky tried, his hold on your throat lessened, but the pressure was still overwhelming. You hated being so close to him, all the feelings associated with him were rushing back and the last thing you wanted was to feel them. You grabbed at his cut, tearing at his wound, making him release you with a hiss. You were dropped on the ground kicking at his shins, making him tumble on the ground and you tried running again. He quickly caught your ankle and you fell hard on the floor, your hands barely saving you from worse injuries. You both stood up and went back to exchanging blows.
"Why are you being so stubborn? We had it good. We can still have everything we want."
A kick landed across his face as you leaned down, extending your leg to reach his face.
"I never wanted the same things as you did. I still don't."
"You had me. Wasn't I enough?"
That stopped you in your tracks. Your chest hurt, both with physical and emotional pain that you felt. You read about this pain, the stinging upper chest pain, right above the heart - the pain of the broken heart, but you settled on calling it betrayal. Your eyes closed and you shake your head, swallowing down the truth and letting out a soft chuckle.
"No, James, you weren't. Because if you loved me, like you claimed you did, you'd come with me, you wouldn't be chasing me for 3 years, because you'd be here with me." You could see his jaw clench. "But then, you have always been just a lackey. A man without ambitions or potential, without a backbone. I was a fool to have ever loved you. There is no future for us, James. So just let me be."
Bucky could only hear his blood pumping in his ears and he only saw red as your voice drowned. You were out in the next minute with Bucky losing control, ramming you on the ground, trapping your body underneath his and squeezing your throat so hard you blacked out. As he stared into your eyes and saw the consciousness leaving you, his eyes filled with tears. Your battling hands, laid motionless by your side as he released you and sat back on his heels, still careful not to drop his entire weight on your body, he wiped his eyes and sniffed. He adjusted his shirt, before lifting you up bridal style and carrying you off to his car. Your father was expecting you home.
You woke up as the gates to the family estate opened to let Bucky in.
"Welcome home, Doll." He whispered as he drove in, the gates immediately closing after you. Your eyes closed and silent tears cascaded down your cheeks.
"Darling, welcome back. I missed you." Your father smiled as you stepped out of the car, ignoring his opened arms, inviting you for a hug.
"Well I'm here, what do you want?" You asked bitterly. Your father straightened up, his face went back to a sulking one - the face you actually knew.
"You had your fun, but now it's time that you get back to the real world and take over the business."
"Why? You made it abundantly clear that James will run it, I'll just be the face. Why not dump the facade and give your empire to James?" You bit back.
Bucky looked at the ground.
"We've been through this. You're the heir, but I worry...what will happen if you're left to the sharks alone. Best if you have a husband to keep them at bay."
"No. Don't twist this into something that's not real. Tell it like it happened. Go on, be the man that I can never be."
"Everything that I did, regardless of how you see it, I did it because I love you."
"Bullshit!" You yelled, tears welling in your eyes. "You didn't care about me, when you offered me as the prize. I believe your words were Who is strong enough to beat the best? The prize: my empire and my daughter. You should be ashamed to want to call that love. How could you do that to me?!"
"James was always going to win it. He is the best. And he is the perfect husband to help you run our family. Whether or not you like it, there will be no more running, no more back talking and no more hissy fits. You and James will be married tomorrow and together you will take over as the new head."
"Sir-" Bucky tried to interject, but the cold tone of your voice stopped him.
"Fine. Let's do this your way, just like we did everything else. But know this, father. When you're dead, I will take everything you ever loved and I will burn it to the ground." The malice in your voice would've left anyone but your father stunned. He let you pass him, motioning for Bucky to follow after you. You father looked at the clear blue sky and smiled.
Still such a firecracker.
So...this turned out darker than I planned 😅 But I actually like it! I had a story sitting in my drafts for so long and then I started writing this & connected the two! 🙌😊
Thank you for reading! 🙏😊
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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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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
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.
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.
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."
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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Finally some angst to bring us home. Happy Birthday Darling. I love you so. 48. Caring for others is how orient yourself in the world, even if it's not always healthy. Whenever you get too much alone time your mental illness takes over. You basically become catatonic as you feel and process everything you suppressed. You had no idea Buck was there & he caught you. He hardly recognized you. So he takes care of you, makes sure you eat, washes your hair in the sink. No questions asked.
⋅☾ My Masterlist | Nyx 3k Sleepover | Ko-Fi ❥ ☽⋅
— word count: 1.5k
— a/n: damn, M'Lady, you enjou some angst, huh? but anything you ask of me I shall deliver, so here we go. <3
— warning(s): mentions of depression, disassociation, past trauma. hurt/comfort, though, so it'll be okay. if you're struggling with anything, i hope this brings you some joy.
The lights being off is not what tips Bucky off.
It's the lack of music.
Being away on a mission is already difficult, but returning home sometimes it's harder.
Bucky used to loathe the way back home—when he had no one, coming back from his overseas missions meant being alone, with his own mind, an empty house, a mountain of debts still sitting in his account.
Now, there's you. The mountain of debts owed to the hospital is paid—his mother is long gone, and after you, Bucky finally had a reason to come home and more importantly, a reason to finally leave the army.
He had a will to live.
Even still—coming home could be harder. It meant dealing with the fact that he was gone for months, and he knew how badly that could go.
"Babygirl? I'm home."
The bags drop to the floor unceremoniously and Bucky wishes he was allowed communication in his last mission.
All he wanted was to see you. His girl. All he wanted was to share the news with you, see the happiness on your face as you discovered that you'd no longer go months without the person you loved. There would be no more secret missions, no more months apart—now Bucky was yours.
Or at least, he wished to be.
The ring hidden deep inside his satchel felt heavier than any of the baggage he carried, inside or outside.
Bucky drifts inside the house, trying to ignore the lack of light, but the lack of music is setting a low-burn fire at the pit of his stomach.
"Are you home?"
Maybe you're still at the hospital.
The last thing Bucky heard from you was that the double shifts were helping.
"It distracts me, Buck." Your smile had been off during the call and Bucky almost threw everything to the sky—rescue mission and trafficking intel be damned. Then, you'd kissed the camera. "Go do your thing, Colonel. I'll be home when you get back."
"I miss you, babygirl."
He remembered the way your eyes watered at the words, and that was when the last nail on his metaphorical coffin was hit—Bucky wanted out.
He needed a better job. This was no living, and the worry in his stomach settles into a quicksand type of feeling—your scent.
Well, technically, the remnants of it.
As he gets closer to the bedroom, Bucky sees the door hanging ajar and he can smell the stuffiness of the room before he enters it.
The first thing his eyes catch is the jacket thrown on the floor.
"If it's messy around me, it only makes the mess inside of me worse, you know? Thanks for helping with the clean-up, handsome."
That was the first time Bucky had seen one of your depressive episodes and helping you clean the results up made him thankful that he was around. He rarely got the chance to take care of you, but when it came, he embraced it with everything in him.
Taking care of each other was how you met, after all.
He showed up at your ER bleeding out of many different places after helping the firefighters during a storm, and there you were, checking on him while he checked on everything else.
When he pushes the door open, his stomach meets the floor.
It joins the clothes, the take-out containers, the open notebooks with drawings and poems and, worst of all, the pictures.
You're lying on the bed with the covers thrown over you and for a moment, Bucky is unable to move.
You look so still, completely knocked out and the orange bottles of pills sitting on your nightstand are familiar to him by now, but the bottles of sake right next to your bed are not.
His heart stops. His hands sweat, and Bucky's next breath is shaky.
Don't think about it. She's okay. She's fine. She has to be.
One foot in front of the other. That's what you taught him.
That day when you met in the ER, when Bucky let out to his own surprise, "You looked worried. I do get into trouble quite a lot. Only when I'm not overseas, though. I don't think I know how to not be in it? I don't know how carry life—don't know why I'm even doing it, sometimes. Or how."
"One foot in front of the other. That's how we do it. Hard shit, sometimes, but it's the only way to go about it."
He puts one foot in front of the other and slowly removes your blankets.
Your chest is going up and down, and now Bucky can breathe.
He takes a deep breath, his whole body shaking with it.
His eyes tremble, and he sits by your bed.
What if he hadn't quit? How many more times could Bucky have left you alone?
He should've been here. He promised he'd always be by your side, and he knows it's not his fault that you're in this position—depression came into your life before he did, but he wanted to be here whenever it knocked on your door.
He wanted to try to help you to knock it on its knees.
Bucky touches your arm. It's a little cold, and your hair is greasy, and he knows you haven't showered in a few days, but he's also aware that if you wake up to this, no amount of shower will help.
He places a kiss on your shoulder, and stays with his lips there for a moment or two.
The smell of sweat doesn't even bother him—he kisses your hair, and your temple, and then gets up before he gives in to the desire of hugging you and taking you into his lap. You're a heavy sleeper, but not that much.
He gets to work.
Bucky gets out of his airplane clothes and gets to cleaning.
It takes him an hour to do your room, and then another couple of hours to clean the rest of the place, but when he's done, he can breathe better. You're still sleeping soundly in the room and now he can take care of you.
When he goes back in the room and picks you up bridal style, you stir in his arms and open your eyes slowly.
"Bucky?" Your voice is groggy, probably with the lack of use, and he can see your eyes still red, probably from all the drinking.
He leans down and kisses your forehead, opening the bathroom door with his foot. "I'm back. I miss you, baby."
"Bucky." It's a choked sound, and he holds you tighter as your arms wrap tightly around his neck.
He knows no other words will come out of your mouth for a while, and they don't need to.
He undresses you slowly, kissing all the moles in your body he missed. He's counted how many of them you have before — thirty-six — and he can ignore the silent tears streaming down your face because there's at least the ghost of a smile on your lips.
Your eyes still look a little distant. Coming back from heavy disassociation is a tricky process, so he hums your favorite songs while washing your hair.
Having rested your forehead on his chest, Bucky can hug you and massage your scalp and back as you let out the minor sobs that break his heart, but your soft and short kisses pressed on top of his chest do a good job of sewing it back together.
When you two are clean, your eyes are already dropping again. "Can you eat something, darling?"
You look up at him, eyes red and swollen and so, so beautiful.
"Okay," you whisper.
Bucky dresses you, then himself, and then leads you by the hand to the kitchen. He sees your eyes roaming the clean apartment and a few more tears fall, but he holds himself together.
As you sit on the kitchen counter, Bucky starts cooking, and you ask, "Can you tell me how were your months?"
Bucky turns around, smiling. "Of course." He talks while he cooks, using the last bit of good ingredients there are in the cabinets and the fridge, throwing out anything that's past its due date.
He talks out of his ear, mentioning the fun things his unit got up to, not leaving behind the important and sad parts, too. You don't like being coddled, and Bucky's always admired how much of an empathic listener you are.
When he places the plate in front of you, he can't hold in the good news anymore.
You eat the first spoon of it and smile around it, and Bucky smiles harder. That's why he's done with it.
Bucky wants this. You.
"I quit." The words feel even better said to you than to his superior. "I'm gonna need some help finding a job, or learning what the hell I wanna do, but... One foot in front of the other, right?"
The watery and trembling smile you give him makes Bucky have to bite down the other thing he's hiding, the shiny and beautiful ring his mother gave to him before passing away because she knew he'd found the one he wanted to give it to.
"You did?" You ask, extending your arms in a request for a hug.
Bucky laughs, happier than he's been in months, and comes around behind you to hug you and stay right there where he belongs. "I did, pretty baby. Now eat, please. We'll talk more in the morning."
Taglist pt. One ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fairytalebucky ; @natyvwe ; @murdermornings ;
Part Two ❥ ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckyxplumsss ; @sltwins ; ; @spiderdudetom ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @agni-l ; @sstan-hoe ; @hawsx3 ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @maladaptivexxdaydreaming <3
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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
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.
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Description: The walls in Avengers Tower are pretty thin and everyone isn’t afraid to let you and Bucky know
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: smut (semi-public sex, unprotected sex), oral (f receiving), use of nicknames (doll), established relationship, teasing avengers, under 18s dni
To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. You had been a few glasses of wine in when you’d agreed to stay at Avengers Tower with Bucky for the weekend. Now that weekend had finally rolled around. You had packed your overnight bag for every possibility, just managing to yank up the zipper to find it was practically bursting at the seams.
A loud knock came from your front door, dashing through your apartment to pull it open. On the other side stood your glorious, super solider boyfriend, radiant with a happy glow from seeing you and covered in a few scrapes from the recent mission he had returned from. “Hi~” You kept your voice sweet and soft as Bucky leaned down to greet you with a searing kiss, then responding. “Hey, doll…” That low drawl drove you completely insane, making your insides flutter wildly. “You packed everything?” He asked, stepping inside just behind you, closing the door with a flick of his wrist.
It had been Bucky’s idea for you to come and stay at the Tower. He hoped it might become more of a regular thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like your apartment, it had its own charm, but your neighbours were boisterous as the walls were thin, the heater hardly worked regardless of the time that he had spent trying to fix the damn thing and perhaps the worst part the bed was far too small for his large frame meaning each of his limbs hung over the edge leading to a night of uncomfortable sleep.
“I’m ready.” You informed him, trying to hide your nerves from Bucky and keeping your voice chipper. About to move down and pick up your duffle when a vibranium arm reached for the strap and slung it over his shoulder before you could react. Bucky then held out his hand in your direction; there wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before you accepted the gesture, linking his fingers through your own.
There were still these nerves swirling around your stomach, but with Bucky by your side it felt like you could have the strength to get through this weekend in one piece.
By the time that you arrived at Avengers Tower, it was early evening. Bucky had settled you into his room and you took a little time exploring the space. It was a good size, a small living area with a bedroom attached and an en-suite. It was packed full of things that just reminded you of Bucky, a bookcase full of well-read books, a duffle bag full of gym clothes, an enormous bed that you were sure that he was going to sleep very comfortably in.
He was occupying the shower whilst you lounged across his bed, flicking through your phone. Your gaze lifted from your screen as you heard the bathroom door click open. Bucky wandered out with a towel slung low on his hips, showing off that incredible ‘V’ shape that framed his hips. Every inch of Bucky was toned and trained, littered with battle-scars and memories that you had spent so much time littering with tiny kisses and kitten licks.
A voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts. “Sorry to disturb, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve been requested by Captain Rogers to inform you that a pizza had been delivered…” The way that you jolted made Bucky chuckle as he wandered towards where you now knelt upright on the bed. A sense of calm took over you as he stroked your face soothingly before saying. “Hey, it’s alright… that was just F.R.I.D.A.Y. It’s some AI thing that Tony installed into the Tower… I don’t know how it works; I was kinda hoping you might explain it to me.” A laugh tumbled from your lips suddenly before Bucky asked. “How does pizza sound?”
“It sounds delicious, Sergeant Barnes~” The name rolled off your tongue in an almost sinful way. A salacious grin spread across his face as he tugged you up off the bed into a fierce kiss. “You’d better head down there before we both end up eating cold pizza…” The thought of having to go down to that kitchen on your own and be surrounded by the world’s greatest superheroes was a daunting one. It was easy for Bucky to see the apprehension flicker across your scrunched features. “Or we can go together…” He pressed an affectionate peck to your cheek. “Gimme a sec to get changed…”
It didn’t take long for Bucky to change into some loungewear, holding your hand securely in his own the whole way down to the kitchen. As you entered, it was almost a relief to find that only Steve and Sam were standing munching away on pizza. “He finally convinced you to spend the night here, huh?” Sam announced with a grin spreading across his lips. Steve pushed the box across the counter in your direction. “I felt bad that his feet kept hanging over the end of the bed…” The two men laughed at the mental image and Bucky smirked too.
You lifted a slice of pizza from the box and happily ate it whilst listening to the three talk mindlessly. It was fun watching this carefree Bucky, sharing jokes with his friends and then gazing down at you every few moments. His hand rested on your lower back, rubbing his fingers delicately against your skin, skilfully lifting the material so he could touch your skin.
“… Bucky used to get me into so much trouble when we were kids.” “I did…” He guffawed at his friend then. “You were the one who could never back down from a fight, pal. I was just making sure that you didn’t get beat on too hard.” It was enjoyable listening to them talk. There was clearly such an old friendship between them, filled with so many memories and moments. “Whatever you say, jerk,” Steve replied with a smirk.
A few moments more and Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You wanna head back to my room?” He nipped playfully at your earlobe. “Sure…” You kept your voice level and easy when all you actually wanted to do was scream at Bucky to throw you over his shoulder and run you back to his room at a dangerously fast pace.
You managed to slip away from Steve and Sam with little fuss, following Bucky down the hall, keeping up with the pace he set before suddenly he yanked you up into his arms and charged down the hall. “Bucky!” You squeaked, falling into a fit of giggles as he opened the door to his room and almost instantly threw you down onto the bed. You bounced before settling against the comfort of the mattress. “You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you laid out on my bed…” His hands were tugging at your clothes until you were naked on the sheets.
The moment he took a moment to observe you nude over those sheets, Bucky went into a frenzy. He slipped between your thighs, kissing you hungrily, tongue lashing against your own as his chest crushed against yours. “Look so fuckin’ beautiful, doll.” He began to press kisses against your throat, down your chest, swirling his talented tongue around your nipple, causing a yelp to pull from your throat, followed by a whine as his lips continued to trail down your form.
The feel of his warm hands spread your throat, dipping his head between your thighs and beginning to lavish your dripping cunt with long swipes of his tongue, cleaning up the sopping mess only to create further wetness as those pink lips wrapped around your pulsing clit. Another cry slipped from your lips, arching your back from the bed. “Oh god, Bucky!”
He spent his time between your legs, pulling pleasure from your trembling body. Any apprehension that you had staying in this place before coming here had all washed away with the feel of your tender boyfriend between your legs. He pulled a few orgasms from you before climbing up your frame and settling between your thighs. You massaged his cock between his legs before lining him up with your entrance. Only a moment later, Bucky slid fully inside of you.
“Buck!” You cried, it was always a stretch on the first thrust, and he would always give you a moment to adjust before beginning to pound you relentlessly into the bed.
It was good. It was always fucking good. Legs were thrown over the shoulders, messy, sweaty, sloppy sex. The way that your cunt sloshed and slurped around his cock was obscene, along with the sounds of your cries and prays for Bucky. “Oh god! Bucky! Bucky!” He would groan along with you, grunt and tell you just how much he fucking loved your cunt and how he was going to fill you to the brim with his cum.
The bed slammed against the wall repeatedly, springs groaning and legs screeching against the expensive wooden floor. All those worries weren’t anywhere near your mind when Bucky was fucking into at this punishing pace. Instead, all you were focused on was him and his wonderful cock that was massaging and nudging all your most sensitive places.
It felt like the two of you were just lost in a world of your own, exploring each other’s bodies like it was the first time. You spent most of the night sharing these intimate moments with Bucky, switching positions and who was controlling the moment until you were both just exhausted and collapsed onto the bed, feeling thoroughly loved and adored by your boyfriend and knowing that you had made him feel the exact same way.
The next morning you woke up beside Bucky, who was gazing down lovingly at you, stroking his hand up and down your spine slowly. “Morning, gorgeous.” You giggled and pressed your face into the pillow and Bucky chuckled. “You feeling hungry? Breakfast is good here… the works…” He informed you, leaning down to press a couple kisses into your shoulder lovingly. “Plus, we gotta get your strength up after last night.”
The two of you shower before heading down to that same kitchen area from last night. There was more Avengers here now than last night. Sam and Steve were sat at the table with Natasha and Clint beside them. Standing by the stove, Tony was fixing himself a plate with James Rhodes by his side. You kept close to Bucky’s side as he began to make you both a plate of food for breakfast.
“Here…” Tony’s voice came from beside you as he slipped a freshly squeezed orange juice into your hands. “Got the feeling that you might have a sore throat this morning…” A couple snickers came from around the room and you creased your brow before thanking him softly and turning back to Bucky shaking your head.
He led you both to the table and placed a plate in front of you. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Clint commented and each Avenger seemed to perk up then. “Are you religious?” Another crease formed on your features and Bucky seemed to stiffen beside you as he shovelled some scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Am I… what?” You whimpered cluelessly to what they were trying to allude.
Natasha was next to speak, smirking and saying. “Bucky mentioned that the walls in your apartment are real thin… I wonder the type of things that your neighbours hear you both getting up to…” The snickering got louder then. “Lots of praying, I’d imagine…” Your mouth popped open in surprise then. Had they heard the intimate moment that you and Bucky had shared last night?
“I might have to look into getting some soundproofing put into Barnes room if you’re going to be staying over more often.” Tony bluntly stated and they all fell into fits of laughter then. “Oh my gosh…” You whined, covering your face, when a sudden slam of a fist on the table came from beside you. “That’s enough.” Bucky grumbled at them all, which seemed to quiet down that laughing.
“We’re just teasing, Buck…” Steve mentioned, reaching over to pat his friend’s shoulder, but he just muttered coldly in response. “I ain’t laughing…” Then standing up and taking your hand, hoisting you up and over his shoulder, causing you to squeal in surprise at his actions. “I hope that you all enjoyed the damn show cause you’re gonna be getting plenty more.”
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Y/N: Most cat owners reflect the grace, style and poise of their cats.
Y/N: Most cat owners are informed, sensitive and intelligent.
Y/N, about Bucky: Bozo, The Wonder Nerd here, doesn't even know what century it is.
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thinking of artbuff!bucky today😌
artbuff!bucky drabble? artbuff!bucky drabble.
artwork included at the end.
he still doesn't exactly know how he convinced you to get coffee with him after you walked the entirety of museum together, but there you are throwing smiles his direction over your latte making his heart tap out some rhythms he doesn't remember having felt before.
"okay okay, so what about like- sculptures?" you ask, having taken the last couple hours only really talking about paintings.
"still the baroque period, all the way."
"you really are a fanboy," you said, crossing your arms over your chest in disbelief and leaning back in your chair.
"hey now, there's no need to call me names," he raises his hands in front of his chest defensively.
there's a pickup line about just calling him in general that you can't put together through the sunbeam of his smile and your brain defaults back to questions about art.
"alright, do you have a favorite baroque sculpture?"
he tugs his lower lip into his mouth, wrinkling his nose in concentration, trying to think of a good answer.
you watch the lightbulb light up above his head when it comes to him, holding up a metal finger while he speaks.
"veiled woman, antonio corradini"
"corradini?! i thought you'd have better taste!" you slap your hands down on the table, leaning over the table towards him.
he leans back in kind, the wound of your incredulousness covered with a hand over his heart.
"what do you mean?! that sculpture is incredible. you know it's marble right? like actual rock? and it looks like fabric!"
"you make it sound like the only thing you know is the baroque period--"
bucky hadn't heard you, trailed off in his own thoughts while his eyes glazed over
corradini's veiled woman is gorgeous, not only to the side of bucky that valued art, but to the side of him that valued the human form and it's depictions. the contrast of hard marble made to look like butter soft sheet over naked flesh flashes images through his brain of you looking much the same.
you have to snap in front of his face a couple times before he comes back down to earth, but when he does his cheeks flush deep red.
"earth to nerd-" you tease, watching him rub the back of his neck at his embarassment.
"i thought we were over calling me names, you're gonna hurt a guy's feelings," he shoots back, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"what about a consolation dinner? would that make a guy feel better?"
he looks directly into your eyes then, grin turning to full solar beam as he pushes an errant lock of hair behind his ear.
"i don't know, sweetheart. i guess we'll have to find out."
veiled woman, antonio corradini 1752
(and before any of you art nerds come at me, i know it's from the rococo period.)
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Smoky Ahegao | biker!bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader
A/n: new label style(?)... anyways, this is a fic about the great biker bucky barnes! i haven't written for him before (and I suck at writing smut), so sorry if it's a bit off!
Warning(s): Smut, oral (bucky receiving), facefucking, throatfucking, smoking during oral sex, rough oral
Summary: A newcomer visits your local bar, and you take him up on a bet... that you lose.
Gender of Reader: Gender-Neutral! Have fun reading :))
The winter chill contended the inside of the bar's radiant warmth as you entered, attire keeping cold, unlike your rapidly warming skin. A smoky haze filled the air and quickly entrapped itself in your lungs, adapting to the decisions of others choosing to light up indoors.
It smelled familiar, but he was new—a man who dressed like anyone in the bar occupied the dusty pool table sat near the back, the dim lighting outlining a face you had yet to associate a name with.
He bent over the pool table, a cue in hand, positioning himself and the stick to hit the ball straight into a pocket. His donned leather jacket creaked and crinkled with each movement. The man seemed to be playing against himself, as every other cue hung on the wall, a single empty slot for the one he was using.
You were attracted to the bubble encompassing him at the table and wanted to enter it and never leave. Moving to the bar, you ordered two drinks—one for you and one for him, then, like the moon to the Earth, gravitated towards him in an accelerated manner.
"Care for a drink?" You questioned, offering one of the two brews in your hands to him.
He came close to you, taking it, "Thanks."
With the proximity, he took the chance to look you up and down, smirking, "I didn't realize they had such cute servers here."
You tried to correct him, stammering on your words, "Oh, I'm not—I wanted to know if I could take you up on a game. I saw that you were playing alone. I'm—uh—(Y/n)."
"That's sweet, angel. You'll be good practice for the real competition." He chuckled to himself, not taking you seriously as he gathered the balls from each pocket. "'m Bucky"
"Are you saying I can't beat you, Bucky?" You emphasized his name, thinking about how it oddly—yet perfectly—fit him.
Bucky placed the plastic balls on the green fuzz, pulling out the rack and placing each one in their correct order inside of it, "You might be able to, but if you’re so confident, we should make it interesting then."
"Okay. If I win, you tell me about that metal arm that you're so desperately trying to cover up." You spoke, moving to the rack of pool cues, taking one, and moving back to the table.
"Alright, but the story's a real tear-jerker." Bucky chatted, centering the balls on the table before pulling the rack away.
"What would you do if you won?" While you asked your question with certainty, you had no idea what the biker would choose as his reward for victory.
He didn't hesitate to respond, "If I win, I get to do whatever I want to you in the bathroom. Maybe take you home after if you want more too."
"That's a nice reward to me, especially if I lose, but I won't."
The game commenced and progressed, and at a certain point, Bucky realized he would win the game and decided to whisper every dirty thing he’d do to you if you lost. You hoped he would stay true to his word about some of those things.
You lost, plain and simple. While you were usually good at pool, you managed to only sink one ball out of the ten available. Bucky plunged the rest into various pockets on the table; a look of satisfaction was on his face once he knew what was coming next.
And when you finally did lose, he walked to the bathroom in triumph with you in toe, who was gleefully looking forward to whatever Bucky had in mind.
Inside the bathroom, Bucky noticed the absence of a lock on the entrance. The lack of one only heightened his arousal as he guided both of you to the very last stall at the far end of the bathroom. The interior followed the motif of the rest of the bathroom: clean with the slight smell of smoke, evident by the little pieces of charred cloves scattered on the floor.
He pushed you to your knees as Bucky sat on the covered seat of the toilet, slumping to jut out the crotch of his jeans along with the noticeable bulge outlined in it. You scanned it, realizing that he must be huge considering the length of his cloth-covered cock.
No time was wasted in unbuttoning his denim bottoms and pulling them down along with his boxers, unveiling the sizeable length that was previously in hiding. Enough blood had flown to it to bring it to full mast as it bounced up, and Bucky manifested a proud face.
His mouth pulled into a smirk, "Think you can take all of that?"
"No, but I'll try," You spoke confidently, gripping the shaft with one hand to direct it toward your lips.
The palm of his hand connected with your cheek, patting it a few times before guiding the tip of his cock past your lips, letting it rest on your tongue.
"Don't forget our deal, angel. You have to take it all if I say so," He spoke, putting a hand on your head to bring you further down on his length. At this point, the tip brushed the back of your throat as Bucky tilted his head back.
He kept pushing you to go further until you reached the base, holding you there for a few moments from the modicum of pleasure coursing through him. This was the first time in a while he had met someone who could take him all the way, and he was going to make damn sure that he took advantage of that.
"Fuck," He moaned, letting you retreat up to the tip of his cock once you started gagging and sputtering spit out of the corners of your mouth. Bucky gave you a second to cool down before stuffing his cock down your throat in record time, loving how it went down as easy as a hot knife slicing through butter.
The building amount of pleasure triggered another craving that Bucky wanted to fulfill at that moment. He sighed, hearing the denim of his jeans whir as he lifted his leg up, crossing it over his other leg to keep your head in place on his length. You did your best to relax your throat without gagging on his cock.
"Keep still, angel. Breathe through your nose," He commanded. The biker reached into the pocket of his jacket, revealing his stashed-away carton of cigarettes and lighter. He put one of the cigarettes to his lips in a similar manner to how you brought his cock to your mouth earlier, and a quick flick of his lighter had set it ablaze.
He shoved them back into the pocket of his jacket while taking a drag, pulling the cigarette away to blow out a puff of smoke. Placing it back to the grasp of his lips, he positioned his leg back to the floor and replaced its grip with his two hands.
"You did so good, (Y/n)! Now, let's get back to fucking that throat of yours, huh?" Bucky spoke, careful not to let his cigarette fall from his lips. With a simple vibration of agreement from you coming through his cock, he held you still, bucking his hips up from the porcelain seat to force his cock down your throat.
The muscles of your throat convulsed as his balls smacked against your chin repeatedly, and the underside of his cock vigorously brushed back and forth over your tongue as it pressed forward, filling your throat with a pulsing bulge. Bucky's rough jolts and thrusts into your mouth caused the ashes of his cigarette to break off, toppling down his leather jacket and onto the floor of the bathroom.
Bucky had gotten really into his fast-paced thrusts, only moving a few inches of himself in and out of your mouth to keep most of himself inside of your surrounding wetness. He adored the shlurking and glugs coming from your mouth due to the build-up of saliva.
Nearing his limit, Bucky stood up, guiding you back against the stall door, holding your head against the hadrian-solid plastic door while keeping the similar correspondence with his thrusts. The door held enough of your head to remove his fleshed hand, bringing it to the cigarette still in his lips, pulling another drag.
In sync with the exhale of smoke, Bucky came with a surly moan of the word 'fuck', pressing his cock as deep as possible into your throat as his seed sprayed down it.
"Come on, angel. Can't have you on the floor all night," His voice had softened a bit compared to his grunts and moans. The biker helped you up, using his cold arm to pull you from your spot on the ground with ease.
"After all, we gotta get you home for round two."
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Doll, Come Look! 》 Bucky Barnes x Reader (18+)
request: Smut #11 with Bucky Barnes?? I feel like it would just be a funny thing he would do. Thanks for even reading this 😂.
a/n: AHHH i loved this! i also added some c-warming at the end bc apparently i'm obsessed? loool i hope you enjoy!
warnings: smut; c-warming at the end, fluffy goodness!
summary: While wrapping presents at the tree, you suddenly hear Bucky ask you to come upstairs. When you get up there? You're met with a bow... on a certain area... Whoops.
Prompt #11 smut: “Did you really put a bow on your penis?”
Christmas Prompt List
Christmas / Holiday Masterlist
“DOLL!” Bucky yelled from upstairs. You were just finishing up wrapping a few gifts by the tree when his voice carried its way to you. Pushing yourself to your feet, you made your way up the stairs, unsure of what you were about to uncover.
“Bucky, this better be good!” You laughed as you pushed the door open to your bedroom. However, when you carried your feet over the threshold, you were suddenly met with a naked Bucky who had a… bow on his lower half.
In a very specific spot.
“Bucky!” You squealed, covering your eyes, but you peeked through your hands. Bucky licked his lips, shifting his hips side to side on the way to you. The bow was settled right along his shaft with his tip hanging just below. “What are you doing?!” You screeched.
Bucky finished off the space between you two, taking your hands into his. He pulled you into him, your chest pressing against his. “Wanted to give my pretty girl a present early…” He whispered, trailing a line of kisses from your cheek to your neck. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, a soft moan erupting when his tongue darted out to lick along the skin.
“Did you really put a bow on your penis?” You asked him as he continued to kiss your neck, making your skin ignite and the heat from between your legs.
“Mmhmm,” Bucky moaned against your neck. “You know you love it…”
Your hands moved to tangle through his hair as he removed the bow and hoisted you into the air. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you felt your back press against the softness of your mattress. Your lips met for a chastised kiss, the want and need for each other evident in the exchange.
Groaning against his lips, you reached below and took him into your hand, Bucky releasing a loud moan against your neck where his lips peppered kisses once again. You smiled to yourself, feeling as Bucky’s hands slipped underneath your shirt to grab both breasts. You released a whimper, his fingers twisting around each nipple before he lowered his head to capture a nipple into his mouth.
The contrast of hot and cold against both breasts made your senses become electrified. The hairs stood up across your body when Bucky slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your joggers and connected with your sopping heat. A whine unleashed and your legs fell open naturally, practically on the verge of begging for him to be buried inside of you at the rate he was going.
You could easily see Bucky’s member hardening as the seconds lingered and the more fervent his kisses started to become. You were whimpering beneath him as he removed the shirt away from you, leaving your breasts completely exposed to him. He was thankful at this moment that you decided not to wear a bra. Licking his lips hungrily, he pulled your joggers down and was met with your glistening heat hidden just beneath the black lace.
“Bucky!” You cried as he teased you with his finger. “I’ve got presents to wrap, please can we get right to it?” You sighed.
Bucky stared at you with a glimmer in his eye.
“My Doll… You’re not up for foreplay? You just want me stuffed inside of you, hmm?” He practically cooed, earning your jaw to simply unhinge. Nodding your head, you grasped him against, pumping his shaft in your hand.
“Please, need to feel you, Buck,” You whispered.
Bucky smiled and decided not to push you any longer. Attaching his lips to yours, he leaned forward and lined himself up with your entrance. As he pushed his tip inside, a yelp extruded itself from your pretty pink lips as Bucky adjusted himself inside. Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he was soon pushed all the way in.
Recoiling, Bucky made it a point to lift his head away from your mouth and look at you.
“Look at you, baby…” He trailed. “So needy for me.”
Hissing, your angry noises turned into ones of immense pleasure as Bucky started to rock his hips into yours. You moaned wildly, your walls tightening around his length as he held you in place. Pressing his lips to your neck, he went back to massaging your breast in his hand, his fingers twitching to playing with your nipple which made your hips grind to meet his calculated thrusts.
Your legs clamped themselves around him, your arms wrapping around his neck. As Bucky pushed himself harder into you, your hands instantly reached for his back. Your nails dug into his skin, surely leaving red marks, but the super-soldier could care less. He loved to be marked up by you.
“That’s right, Doll… Dig those nails into my back. Feels good, doesn’t it? Love seeing you so full of me.” Bucky grinned, kissing your lips. You could feel that familiar budding sensation develop in the pit of your stomach. Your whines grew more desperate as your release was suddenly about to be chased.
“So close, Bucky, don’t stop!” You arched your back off of the bed, your stomachs pressing together. As he slid up, the feeling of his abs drawing against your belly sent you into spasms.
“Cum around me, baby… Wanna feel you.” Bucky begged you.
You released an earth-shattering moan that made you tumble right over the edge. A cry erupted from your lips as you gripped your boyfriend tighter in your grasp. His hips drove themselves sloppily into yours, his own high being chased as you rode your climax out along him, Bucky finishing deep within you.
As the heightened moment slowly came to a stop, the two of you looked at each other with the stars shining in your eyes. Bucky slowly pulled out of you and the feeling of him being gone made your lips pout.
“What, baby? You said you had presents to wrap…” He trailed softly, brushing back the strand of your hair. You sighed, shaking your head.
“You know what I want…” You drug a finger across his chest.
Of course, he did.
Bucky smiles cheekily and carefully slides his length back inside. A drawn-out sigh emerges from your lips, your walls instantly pulsating around him. He settled himself right in your center, your entire focus on him and how good he feels back inside of your tight space. A hum leaves your lips, your chin nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Bucky wraps his arms entirely around you to encase you, ensuring that the warmth you felt was transmitted from his body to yours.
“I love this, Bucky,” You told him honestly. “So relaxing…” You whispered with a sudden yawn.
Bucky chuckled, obviously enthused with how his girlfriend relaxed with his length buried inside of her post-sex. He massages your shoulders from his position just above you, but he managed to turn you two over so your chest was flush against his, your legs tangled through the others.
“I do too, Doll.” He smiled sweetly at you, kissing your lips.
Needless to say?
Those presents didn’t get wrapped.
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Hi I was wondering if you can do a Bucky and reader
She read a saying that she loved so much she only uses it for her loved ones
On a mission with Bucky he tells her to stay with him the whole time and reader smiles and replies to him I’ll follow you till the end of the line
That’s when bucky realizes that she was made for him.
You can end it however you’d like thank you!
A/N: Right. Quick maths needed on this one. I’ve made the reader about 25. Factoring in that TFATWS is set in about 2023 I’ve chosen dates that fit in with that timeline. Hope that makes sense! Thank you so much for your request, I absolutely loved the idea!! It's a short one, but I hope you like it!
Steve Rogers High School, Brooklyn, New York, 2014
“I’ll always be with you; I’ll follow you till the end of the line.” Miss Paltrow, your English teacher, closes the book slowly and places it in her lap, a small smile playing at her mouth as she surveys the room.
The class clown Chris is yawning loudly to distract people from the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, your friend Tom is trying his hardest not to break down, wiping at his face whilst your best friend Scarlett is holding a tissue under her eyes to stop her makeup from smudging. Mrs Paltrow takes a moment, turning to face the front of the room to place the book on her desk before writing a question up on the board.
Who would you follow till the end of the line? She writes in neat cursive.
When she turns back to face the class, most pupils have pulled themselves together, tears no longer threatening to spill and makeup fixed thanks to Scarlett’s compact. She pauses when she sees you, tears still glistening on your cheeks, your friends turning round at the sound of you still sobbing at the back of the class.
“Are you ok Y/N?”
You clear your throat, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “Sorry Miss, I just… I really felt that, y’no?”
A few of your classmates nod in agreement before you continue as you spot the question on the board. “I suppose it’s a given that I would follow my family to the end of the line…I would do anything for them…and Scarlett obviously…” Your best friend smirks and sticks her tongue out at the boys who look visibly deflated at the lack of their names. “But it’s special isn’t it, you wouldn’t do that for just anyone. You would have to have complete and utter trust in someone to follow them willingly, blindly almost. I don’t suppose many would have hordes of people to award that statement to. It would just be saved for a special few.”
Miss Paltrow looks elated at your response. “I couldn’t have said that better myself Y/N, incredibly articulate. Now let’s see if you can hold it together to express that on paper. 200 words, ‘I’ll follow you till the end of the line.’, what or who does that represent for you?”
New York City, 2023
“They’re here somewhere.” Sam whispers, glancing around nervously. “They can’t have gotten far…we’ll cover more ground if we split up. Parker, you’re with me.” Peter nods confidently, following Sam down the hallway to the left.
That left you and Bucky, you fiddled with your fingers nervously whilst you listened closely to the distant sounds to your right.
“You gonna stick with me doll?” Bucky looks at you with an expression that makes you dizzy; how did he always do that? He grabs your hand tightly, pulling it to his face to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.
You nod in response, rolling your eyes at his protectiveness.
“I mean it kitten, I know you can hold your own, I know that you don’t need me to look after you, but I needyou to stick with me, just trust me on this one yeah?”
Your sarcastic expression softens at his worried face, letting go of his hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to look deep into your eyes.
“I know Buck. I’m with you, I’ll follow you till the end of the line.” Flashing him a dazzling smile, you kiss his cheek before turning away to gather your things. Your heart was beating furiously, for you, you had pretty much declared undying love for Bucky but in a way that only you understood.
Or so you thought.
Bucky was rooted to the spot, tears prickling in his eyes and his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll follow you till the end of the line.” The line played over and over in his mind. How did you know? You couldn’t have known. He watches you carefully as you packed up the bag you had dragged up with you, filled with the things the team needed. You tucked your gun into your waistline, checked your knives and tutting to yourself as you counted out the things you needed. He smiles to himself, thinking about how much Steve would have loved you, always so well prepared for any eventuality. Steve Rogers in female form. It was almost as if he had sent you for him, that you had been made for him. He loved you, he had been sure of that for a while, the thought popping into his head when you had been cuddled up to him watching TV in bed, the words on the tip of his tongue but he lost his nerve each time. “I’ll follow you till the end of the line.”
“Y/N.” He calls softly. You stop rummaging in your bag to look up at him, your face confused at the look in his eyes.
“I love you.” Your breath hitches slightly, your heart hammering heavily in your chest.
“I love you too Buck.” He smiles at you, holding a hand out to bring you towards him, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.
“Let’s go.” You nod confidently, grabbing your gun and following Bucky down the corridor.
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Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader
— Summary: Bucky, your ex, comes by for the last of his things you hung onto over a year after he moved out. He has the nerve to give you outdated apologies and you finally confront him on the downfall of your relationship.
— CW/TW: Takes place a little after FATWS, don’t look at the timeline too hard, so much angst, no comfort, explicit language, Bucky fucked up, you’re rightfully angry, self-doubt and lack of self-worth on the reader’s side, no violence towards one another but reader physically assaults their couch, reader on couch violence, this is NOT a cheating fic
— Word Count: 1.3k
— A/N: This is completely a vent piece. Extremely cathartic for me to write, again, this is going to be a theme with the exceptions of some requests I’m working on. Bucky gets very little dialogue, truly it’s something for those who left far too much unsaid with past lovers. I didn’t really proof read this, so you’re getting it as is. And finally! The song I had on repeat the ENTIRE time writing this. Hence the title. I’d say enjoy but I feel an apology would probably be more appropriate.
You stood at the kitchen counter, hunched over with your elbows propped up and arms loosely crossed. You couldn’t be bothered to hide the scowl on your face as he walked back through the kitchen and into the living room. He only met your gaze through the open bar after sorting through the box of things he’d forgotten.
He ducked his head and swallowed, nodding a little as he mumbled, “I appreciate you letting me stop by so long after… y’know.”
You let out a scoff, shaking your head at his audacity. “Yeah, I’m glad you finally appreciate something.”
His body flinched at the retort, hunkering over to make himself smaller. He licked his lips then opened his mouth as if to say something, anything, before promptly shutting it again. Clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose.
Your brows pinched as you ground your teeth in an attempt to fight back every harsh word that fought tooth and nail to tear into his very being. Every second he continued to stand in your living room made it more and more difficult to have any restraint.
“What are you doing, Bucky? If you have something to say then say it. Unless more than four years of my life weren’t enough for you to have wasted away already. Then again you have a history of crawling back to things with history, don’t you?”
The look in his eye would have shaken you to your core years ago. Once upon a time, you revolved around James Buchanan Barnes and even the concept of being harsh towards him never occurred to you. You’d even dare to say it would have felt repulsive. However, that was then. The comparison between the man you’d found on the run during your internship in Romania and the one that stood in your living room was night and day.
Perhaps you should’ve known better. It wasn’t that you missed the signs, the changes, the growth, the new direction in life that no longer involved you. You remained steady despite the noticeable decline in his interest in you. You never wavered in face of every other-worldly challenge that came with loving him. You remained helpless as the weight of your relationship rested solely on your shoulders because he found solace somewhere else.
You continued to be tormented and he had long since found acceptance.
The seemingly never-ending well of patience you once had was dried up and the shine in your eyes now resembled that of jagged glass. You were tired. Angry. Hurt. All interchangeable at any given moment and for what felt like the first time, Bucky saw it.
He found the nerve to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”
You, on the other hand, lost yours.
Without missing a beat you rushed around the counter and pointed at him, your other hand clenched in a shaking fist.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t give me that. You don’t get to be sorry all of a sudden. I’m not one of your goddamn names to make amends with! You don’t have the excuse that you had no control over what you did, because last I checked you were well aware every step of the way.” You marched up to him, poking his chest and glaring into his startled eyes. “You simply didn’t care.”
He took a step back as if your touch was a hot iron, shaking his head and stumbling over his words. “I-I did. I did care! Things— things changed and—”
A growl tore from your throat and you bellowed, drowning his attempt to speak, “NO! You’re a goddamn liar, Barnes!” You jabbed your finger into your chest, hunching over and practically snarling at him. “I gave you everything! I invested all of me into you! My family and I took you in despite everything! I ran from the law!” You took a few breaths before hissing through bared teeth, “I abandoned all of my dreams, my aspirations, my plans. Everything!”
Your heart felt like it was either going to burst or simply stop altogether. His face became obscured as your vision grew blurry with tears that you prayed would take every thought inside your head with them.
Bucky remained speechless and you couldn’t be bothered to analyze every detail to read him like you used to. Instead, you began to gesture wildly at him as your voice cracked and broke in rage.
“And don’t give me that bullshit that you never asked me to because you didn’t have to! I did it all because I cared. So I gave with no expectation. All I ever wanted was to love you and be loved by you and you know what? You gave me that. You gave me that until you were wanted by someone else. You used me like a fucking stepping-stone and the moment Steve came back you were gone! Your side of the bed was empty more than you were in it. You kissed me like it was a chore. You hugged me like I was a stranger. You spoke to me as if it killed you to hear about my day!” You were pacing now, only jerking your head up to glare at him and stare down at your hands like you would magically find some answer as to what was wrong with you.
Desperate to know what you didn’t have.
“You had nothing! No one! You found family, love, some sense of peace, and stability with me! You said it your—” You slammed your fist on the sofa nearby, hearing the wooden frame underneath the cushions make a soft cracking noise, “—fucking self! And I never realized how easy it was to just take that for granted! To discard it like it was nothing! Now, look at you! Steve left and Sam’s all you have!”
It went unnoticed as he had placed his box of belongings on the table but you did notice as he began to approach you.
You threw your hand up and pointed at him once more with a trembling hand, causing him to pause mid-step and raise his hands. Either in defense or to show a lack of malice, you didn’t know. Even you didn’t recognize your own voice anymore as it dropped low, “YOU changed, Barnes.”
After harshly wiping your eyes with the back of your hands and looking back up to him, you saw his own tears trickling down his jaw and falling off his trembling chin.
A whine escaped your throat and you collapsed back onto the couch, holding your feverish face in your hands and curling into yourself as a muffled sob fell between your fingers.
“So why do I still love you? Why do I still hurt when you hurt? How can I function when I’m so tied in between wishing you to never find peace with anyone else and knowing a part of me is happy to hear second-hand that you’re doing okay?”
You looked up to him suddenly, catching him only a couple feet away with a hand reached out, “I haven’t been with anyone since because I look for parts of you in them. I look for the part of me I gave you.” You grab his hand in a vice-like grip, him taking your one in both of his as you whispered, “You can take all of your things back. You can have anything you want. Just please—” You look up to him in desperation, pleading as you slide off the couch onto your knees and rest your head against your joined hands. “—please give me back whatever piece of me that you still have.”
He drops to his knees and wraps an arm around you, you can feel his wet cheek against your temple as your hand trembles with the grip you still have on his one hand. His sobs and your quiet wails become indistinguishable.
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20. You make me feel safe
With Bucky?? 🥺👀
summary: prompt no. 20, "You make me feel safe."
paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader
a/n: I am not tagging with these prompts but still accepting requests for them :)
"Hey, are you okay Buck?" It's not everyday you wake up with a supersoldier curled up in a ball on your bedroom floor.
The only source of light is the moon that peers throughout the cracks of the curtains but it's just enough to illuminate the deep, cut structure of his face. Steel blue eyes sparkle as you find them below.
"I'm okay." He promises lowly and clutches the blanket closer to his chest, "I had a nightmare a few hours ago, just came here."
"Oh okay..." You tried to act like it's normal, you watch the way he nervously fiddles his fingers and feel a wave a guilt rush over you for even questioning him.
Minutes later he speaks, it's horse - his throat itches and low, "You make me feel safe."
For the second time that night your heart breaks, a cold chill runs through you, "I'll always try to keep you safe Bucky."
He smiles to himself, a man filled with so much burden, so much guilt but a sweet girl like you would protect him no matter the cost. But how could you save him from himself?
Bucky watches, confused and with wide eyes as you reach over to turn the lamp on. The sudden light burns, rubbing the sting out as you pat the bed, "Come on, Buck. The floor is no place to sleep."
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