#bucky barnes one shot
a little help
Summary: Bucky’s been having difficulties in a certain... department. He’s at a loss, completely ready to give up until he starts theorizing. If you have the ability to heal people, maybe you can help him out. Maybe you’ll be able to fix him.
Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) Reader
Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!; unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks!); masturbation; elements of orgasm denial; elements of orgasm delay; handjobs; anal fingering (Bucky receiving); use of sex toys (vibrators - Bucky receiving); prostate massage; coming untouched; blowjobs; dirty talk; painful masturbatory efforts; enhanced Reader (no y/n); pet names (doll, baby); age difference kink; multiple orgasms; strong language; mutual pining; lube, lube, and more lube; CONSENT, ALL THAT LOVELY CONSENT!
Word Count: 12,400+
A/N: I have no excuse for this. Enjoy! xxMoni
It’s two in the morning and the room is literally cold but Bucky’s body is burning up, clenching and unclenching the miserable coil that’s been resting inside his heaving stomach since midnight. He’s sweating, sticking to the cotton sheets below him and even though it feels incredibly uncomfortable, he can’t seem to stop himself from grinding down onto the bed. It’s relaxing and blissful, the pressure of the mattress against his back and bottom, but it’s also the most he can do without absolutely falling over the edge.
He’s got his flesh hand wrapped tightly around his aching cock, pulling and squeezing from the base of his heavy balls to the angry looking red tip that’s leaking all over the place. He throws his head back into the pillow with a quiet whine, eyes clenched shut and hips thrusting awkwardly in the air as he so desperately tries to find a perfected rhythm. But he can’t find it, no, not when his stomach is clenching up again for the third time in two hours.
Bucky knows he should stop — that it’s completely pointless at this point; that it’s only going to cause him more pain and suffering. But his back arches against his will and it’s beautiful; anyone who caught sight of him now would certainly beg to give him a helping hand. But Bucky can’t think about that right now. No, he’s been thinking of a thousand things these last painful hours: how much he wants to come, how much he needs to come, who he wants to witness this, how good it must feel. He has to shove his metal hand into his mouth to keep from crying out when his fingers slide over his slit and collect the dribbling come. It’s added to the excessive amount of lube, spreading over his hard length and to the base of his hips. He’s drenched, so fucking wet, that the lube is dripping from his incapable balls to his trembling thighs, into the crease of his ass. He tugs his cock harder, faster, and ignores the violent slide of his incisors against vibranium.
The warmth inside him grows unbearable and he’s crying, tears freely flowing from his clenched eyelids and down the sides of his temples, tickling his ears and wetting his hair. It feels so fucking good, so fucking magical, that Bucky knows he needs to fucking stop.
It’s been two hours and he hasn’t been able to come once. It’s such an insufferable feeling that the anger and horniness seem to just melt into one another and Bucky can no longer differentiate which is which. But this time, this session, seems to be working him higher than the last two. He’s flushed with sweat, practically begging nothing but himself to tug faster, to squeeze harder, to pick up the pace so all his ears can hear is the unflattering sound of the lube squelching. The heat rises and rises and rises until Bucky’s sure he’s going to come, that he’s going to come all over his heaving chest and into his own fucking mouth. He can feel it in his toes as they curl and ache and he can feel the pressure at the base of his spine. He’s almost there, he can almost fucking taste it, he’s so fucking certain he’s going to come loads until —
He’s aware of muscles trembling and his high dissipating and now he’s crying for a whole other reason.
He can’t fucking come.
He screams into his pillow and finally removes his cramping hand, curling it instead into the cotton sheets. He hears the seams rip open and his pillow is full of spit and tears. Bucky gives a few more hardened yells until he needs to breathe again. His cock doesn’t soften, no, it stands arrogantly against his sweaty tummy, tip dark red and the rest of him practically purple. Bucky’s not sure if he’s even seeing colors right. He can’t seem to remember anything else or feel anything else besides the blinding pain he tries to ignore.
It’s so goddamn frustrating Bucky is seriously thinking about putting a bullet in that thick head of his. Of all the torture and long-lasting ailments Hydra has caused or given him, this definitely tops the cake. It tops it, with whipped cream and fucking cherries and whatever the hell else a cake has, Bucky doesn’t want to think about that right now. All he can think about is how badly he needs to feel his body let go; to release that built up tension and frustration he’s been carrying around for seventy fucking years.
“Fuck,” Bucky mumbles, the heels of his hands digging into his eyesockets as he breathes out heavily. He’s trying desperately to control his breathing, to ignore the pain liquefying into that recognizable pleasure again, and so he finally sits up and kicks away the wet sheets with irritation. “Useless, fucking — Goddamnit.”
He turns on the shower so hard it almost shatters the handle. He nearly breaks the tile too after he punches it due to the sudden burst of coldness hitting his hard cock. He stands below the freezing stream for several minutes, begging and instructing his cock to soften and leave him alone. Because if he’s not able to come, why fucking bother? And it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened — no — Bucky has been trying to get off for the past two weeks now. Every night he’ll lay in his bed, writhing and begging through the fucking of his hand, begging to be fucked or anything, until the pressure builds and builds and Bucky’s certain this is the one, finally this is the one, only to suddenly drop and feel the pain of rejection instead. It’s like the pleasure comes to a sudden halt as his mind readies the inevitable, but like all the matters involving his mind, it only slips away into nothingness. And every night he stands under the freezing water of his shower either cursing up a hail storm or crying silently into his palms.
He’s thought about asking for help. There’s got to be some form of therapy for this shit, right? It’s not like he has erectile dysfunction — no — he can get hard just fine. Hell, he got hard just yesterday when he watched Wanda lick the ice cream off her spoon and just this morning when you bent over to pick up the remote control. So yeah, he has absolutely no problem getting hard. It’s the grand finale he’s had trouble with. And it’s not like he’s always known about this: the first time he got hard after coming back was just a month ago. Before that, it’s like he didn’t feel sexual desires at all. Now, the dial is turned up to eleven and Bucky wants to fuck and be fucked.
Plunging into the deep end is always a possibility. He’s bought sex toys, excessive amounts of lube, and searched his fair share of internet porn to last a lifetime. But he’s never opened the toys or kept a video playing while he jerked off. He likes the feel of his hand, he likes focusing solely on his pleasure, he likes hearing himself fuck up into his hand. The new world allows him the opportunity, but because Bucky knows the outcome, he doesn’t want to take the risk.
But this seems like the last straw. He dries himself forcefully, towel dragging harshly across his sensitive skin until he can’t feel the lube or the rawness of the skin between his thighs. He doesn’t want the evidence anymore. Just for tonight, he wants to forget he even tried. Wants to forget that Hydra took away yet another thing from his personal being.
So he changes the sheets and lies in the middle of his bed, stiff as a concrete board, careful of his movements for risk of activating an unknown sensor he didn’t know he had. His cock is half-hard and dribbles a pathetic drop of pre-come against his stomach but Bucky ignores it. He wills himself to fall asleep and ignore the constant throbbing between his legs.
“Well, who told you to stand so close to the target, Wilson?”
Bucky smiles at your teasing, watching as Sam and Clint follow close behind and into the kitchen. Clint’s holding a very sharp arrow and Sam’s nursing a nasty cut across his left cheek. Clint’s talking a mile a minute, explaining how Sam ‘flinched, and then he moved to the wrong side of the target!’ Bucky mutes the television and looks over the back of the couch. He simply watches the scene unfold: you, reaching into a high cupboard for the first-aid kit, Sam tapping the wound and flinching everytime he does so, and Clint still flinging around the arrow like it didn’t just almost impale his teammate. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton ball, dabbing Sam’s cheek a few times before throwing the mess away. Then you cup his cheek, rub your thumb across and over the wound, and breathe in slowly. The wound magically stitches itself up and Sam’s cheek is good as new. Sam thanks you and shines that famous gap-toothed smile of his.
“There, all done.”
“Remind me why you even bother with first-aid kits?”
“Better to prevent infection than treat it.”
Clint nods, understanding, and the two men go back to their business like one hadn’t almost killed the other.
“Enjoy the show?”
Your voice snaps Bucky back into reality. He always gets a kick from watching you do that. It’s such a sweet and amazing power that you harness, so useful and necessary, that it never gets old watching new and old wounds repair and disintegrate under your touch. “It’s just awesome, is all.”
And the swirling tendrils of delight you’re so familiar with whenever you even look at this man build and conquer in the pit of your stomach, pillaging with such a thrill that you really don’t mind the conquest. “Any cuts and scrapes? I’m happy to do it again!”
He declines but the moment he does, that sick voice in his head that reminds of him of all the things wrong with him, speaks up and drowns his ears, has them pounding with the want and need of asking you to fix him. Thank God the conversation dies naturally and you’re returning to whatever you were doing before because Bucky almost starts hyperventilating with the morbid idea that he truly starts to consider.
He doesn’t even know if your powers operate like that — if you can even fix internal misalignments and mental defects. Have you ever crossed the wires and repaired a brain injury? What about massive internal bleeding? Have you ever wrapped your willing hands around someone’s cock and brought them to a much needed climax, had them shaking and crying from such ecstasy after you fixed them from the inside and out?
He can’t. He won’t ask. There would be nothing more embarrassing. Sure, you two flirt on a day-to-day basis, but it feels friendly. You’re so goddamn shy that Bucky doesn’t even want to imagine the way you’d flush, the way your fingers would fidget and pick at your cuticles, or the way you’d dip your head low so that your hair can shield your face as you politely declined. Because that’s exactly what you would do: politely decline fixing his dick.
Or his mind. Bucky can’t really decide what the problem is, really.
He’ll just try again tonight. Maybe this one’s the winner.
He’s been going at it for an hour; one full, dreadful hour of writhing with intense pleasure, only for that pleasure to topple just as quickly as it was constructed. He can’t seem to even see straight and he’s tried every position he can think of. He’s been on his back with his legs spread and his knees tucked high; he’s gotten on all fours and fucked into his hand, fucked into his pillows; he’s even tried sitting up on his knees and presenting his chest like a delight.
But it’s not enough. The urge to keep going is there but Bucky pauses with his flesh hand hovering over his strained cock. He can’t believe he hasn’t come yet considering the mess he’s already made. It’s like his body is giving small pumps of arousal, just enough to make him believe there will be more; just enough for Bucky to use to lubricate himself extra, to feel how excited he is. He sucks in shaky breaths, chest heaving as he looks down to inspect himself fully. His nipples are hard and pebbled, sensitive by the constant pinching and rubbing his metal fingers has put them through. The extra rub is fantastic and every time Bucky pinched down he’d let out the most sinful whine that pushed his hips up and his cock into his hand.
His flesh hand is cramping and he figures he’s going to have to change position again sometime soon. But his legs can’t stop trembling and he’s too out of breath to turn over so he ponders.
What else can he do? What other ways can he get himself off? He looks across the room and to the discreet, beige box in the corner. The tape is removed but he hasn’t gotten enough confidence to open the package fully yet. He knows exactly what’s sitting in there and it’s eating him up inside, both a good feeling and bad, and he wonders, ‘What the hell?’ He’s out of his bed in less than a second and back on it with the box split open and its contents scattered.
He bought more lube, a normal looking dildo, and two vibrators: one straight and purple, the other with a slight curve near the end and an easy grip. He turns it over and bites his lip. He’s never had anything up his ass before. Or at least, he doesn’t quite remember. His first instinct is to try it out because it looks fascinating, and his second instinct stays dormant. Bucky tries to remember if there was ever a time he’s used his own fingers or a phallic object on himself… or if he’s ever been with a man.
The thought has him speeding through his room and to the bathroom to quickly wash the toy and himself. He can feel his heartbeat rising, excitement pouring through his veins and up to his head so he can feel the rush. And he focuses on that feeling because if he thinks about how this might fail and how he might be left unsatisfied, Bucky knows he’ll never try this again.
He’s not all that foreign to the concept: he lubes up three fingers and starts with one. He massages his entrance gently, sighing a long breath as he gets used to the feeling. He experiments with a gentle massage for a few more minutes before building up the courage to slip his middle finger half way into himself. He gasps as he does so, head lifting up from his pillow slightly. It’s weird, not really all that exciting yet, and he figures he needs to work himself up more until he can get to the grand finale. He slips his middle finger deeper and he breathes in deep, working it into himself gently. It’s not uncomfortable and he knows men typically enjoy this if they get the angle right, so he swallows the last of his doubt and slips the finger fully inside.
He breathes in slowly and massages his opening once more before lining up the second. He is slick enough that it won’t be that much of a push, so he dips his index finger alongside his middle and sighs into the mattress.
“Yes.” He lifts his hips up and works his fingers in, massaging his tight walls and focusing on the bliss. He bends his fingers and jerks from the intense feeling. His cock twitches hard and leaks a pearly drop of pre-cum. It’s like a mini-orgasm, one that didn’t end up with him exploding everywhere, but it’s the closest he’s been in weeks. He bends his fingers again and yelps, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he does it again and again and again.
He’s a weeping mess, hips thrusting without rhythm and thighs trembling each time he rubs up against his prostate. He arches his back and whines. “Fuck, yes, yes, please.”
He looks to his side and sees the vibrator sitting there, taunting him with the pleasure he knows it’s telling him to experiment with. So he lubes the toy up and works it into himself as slowly as he can. Right now, he’s lying on his back with his legs wide open and half-loving half-hating the vibrator up his ass. It’s thick enough so he has that rough but delectable tug against his rim and he’s drenched to the brim with enough lube to slicken a whole continent. He starts off with a slow pace and a low vibration, pushing the curved toy into his ass as far as he can take it. He bites his lip until he draws blood and the taste of it just makes him whimper because he’s not used to this, not at all, but it feels so damn good.
Tugging at his cock is one thing, but to feel double the pressure and double the build-up is a whole other thing entirely. He’s being squeezed and spread open. He feels so full and now he’s picking up pace, shoving the vibrator deeper until the curved end hits his prostate just right and he’s seeing stars. He can’t catch the scream that erupts from his chest so he just lets it go; lets it fly away and tease him. Keeping it buried inside him, Bucky angles the vibrator so it’s constantly massaging his prostate, applying such a perfect fucking pressure to his sweet bundle. He can vaguely hear himself cursing and whining, short gasps and mumbles escaping his moist lips in sudden bursts of enjoyment. He’s smiling through the pleasure and riding himself down, hips thrusting up and down against the toy until he sees white spots. The pleasure is building and Bucky tries not to think too much about the end result and to just focus on the pleasure he’s feeling.
And oh, what a wonderful pleasure it is. His eyes roll to the back of his head as the toy assaults his prostate and he gives himself a few more slippery tugs until the coil almost snaps, it’s almost there, and —
Nothing happens. He’s teetering off the edge and the pleasure immediately halts and changes into a searing pain. He pulls the toy out and lets himself go. Tears flow freely and an unbelievable pain in his stomach reminds him of how messed up he still is.
For a second, Bucky thinks he’s actually having a real medical emergency. That maybe this problem is health related and not because of the damage done to his fucking head. But just as quickly as the pain overtook, it subsides to the consistent buzzing and numbness he’s sadly grown all too familiar with.
Bucky grabs his side pillow and screams into it, loud and hard enough that he gives himself a headache. It’s so goddamn frustrating, so fucking unfair, and Bucky just about wants to tear his damn dick off to no longer feel the heavy weight of it against his stomach. He’s still hard, still leaking, and it was the most pleasure he’s felt in ages. The vibrator was so damn delicious and to not be able to achieve the final level was just cruel.
The next hour seems to go by quickly. All Bucky does is silently cry, still and unmovable on his drenched sheets. He’ll clean them tomorrow, he promises, and maybe think of telling someone about his predicament. He glances down at himself briefly and sighs.
His cock is softening, still red at the tip but his balls are no longer purple. The blush on his body has disappeared as well so he stands to clean himself off. He washes himself as best as he can while half-asleep and turns to lean his forehead on the shower tiles.
He almost had it. He was almost there. There’s no way he can live the rest of his life and not achieve orgasm, no, there is no way. Either he goes to an actual medical professional or gets a hooker. Either of the two, but Bucky’s leaning more to the hooker option. Maybe what he needs is a partner. Maybe he’s touch-starved. Having someone there to guide him through it may help. But then he vetoes the idea because no hooker would say yes to sleeping with him, an ex-assassin who betrayed the government more times than he can count on two hands. And he doesn’t want any unwilling participants.
But what about an experienced sex worker? Someone who can work with him and get him to that limit? To coach him through it and not care if he comes or not? That’s always an option. Stark probably knows a bunch of high-end sex workers, discreet too, who would be down for the challenge.
There’s no denying it, though. Bucky’s never been the type to pay someone to sleep with him. He’s desperate, yeah, but he just doesn’t see the morality of it. Fuck morality, he wants to say, but that’s just it. Hydra can fuck him up and take away his ability to reach pleasurable heights, but fuck it all that they let him keep his morality. What a bunch of a fucking bullshit. Sarcasm in place.
So his only three options are to seek medical attention, ask you for help, or suffer in silence. Medical attention is out of the question because even though he doesn’t have the exact same serum as Steve, he still isn’t able to contract any deadly diseases or other things like STD’s, or even the common cold. And his last physical showed no problems with his urine so there isn’t any technical issue. They didn’t bother asking him to jack off into a cup, either.
Asking you is a death wish. Because even though you are the kindest, most sweetest personality he has ever come across, there was always the chance you would say no. And if you say yes and someone overheard, they would kill him for even asking you. Because you were the baby the family, the newest and most innocent, the fucking Mother Nature of the group. He’s, at most, ten years older than you and you look at him like he’s a role model.
Bucky clenches his eyes shut and digs his nails into the tender flesh of his palm. Fuck, that’s getting him off. Your innocent and healing hands over his abused body; your tiny whimpers as he trails kisses and bites down your neck and to the valley of your breasts; the way your mouth would fall open in a silent moan as he fucked you into his mattress, your walls sucking him deeper and milking that long-awaited orgasm from him. Because, and keep up here, Bucky theorizes that if your hands are able to heal both internal and external injuries, you must be able to override whatever it is that’s keeping him from bursting. As crude as it sounds, your powers must know how to unclog that pipe… right?
It’s his last resort but he needs to ask. He needs to try.
Bucky groans as he simply rips the sheets off his bed and lies in the cold. He doesn’t deserve blankets, he thinks, with that depraved mind of his.
‘Please come to my room tonight. I really need to discuss something with you. -Bucky’
It’s barely nine in the morning and you’re already so damn anxious. It’s both anxiety mixed with a little excitement because Bucky wanting to discuss something with you is a new thing. Sure, you’ve spoken to the guy everyday for the past year, sat next to him on roadtrips, shared food, even went to the movies a couple times (alone), but this feels different. The letter was discreetly slipped beneath your bedroom door so you figure it’s something important.
The thought scares you and excites you all at once.
The day goes by with not much added to your to-do list and you find yourself standing outside Bucky’s door, hand lifted in a paused knock. Swallowing any worry, you knock and shove your hands into your sweater pockets.
The door opens literally a second after you knock and Bucky pulls you in the room and quickly shuts the door.
“Woah! We keeping a secret from the rest of the compound or what?” you joke, but your smile falters when you catch sight of Bucky — sweaty, beat, just completely knocked on his ass. You venture forward to hold his shoulders in place. “Hey, are you okay?
He’s been pacing. The walls must be bleeding with traces of his worry. Moral and depraved, moral and depraved; the combination doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be asking you, he knows that, but it’s getting him off that it might actually work this time. So, yeah. Moral and depraved all at once.
“Hey. Sorry for such an abrupt… message,” he quickly pushes out.
You blink at him. Slowly, you lower your hands from his shoulders. “It’s cool. Is there something wrong?”
“No!” He shuts his eyes in embarrassment. He practiced in the mirror, for fucks sake. “Well, I mean…”
“Bucky? Do you need my help with something?”
“God, I’m sorry.”
You giggle quietly, “Already?”
He sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair — it’s getting longer. “I have a problem that I can’t fix. It’s… health related.”
Immediately you’re alert. “What? What about the serum?”
“It’s not that. Nothing related to that. Or, I don’t know really.”
“Bucky, if this is serious we should get you checked out. I’ll do everything I can to help but it’s better to fix these kinds of things with a diagnosis.”
“I can’t come!” Bucky tries, ready for the chaos.
“Come to med-bay? It’s like down the hallway—”
But, shit, you’re not getting it. Bucky swallows hard and practically cries, “No, god, I can’t come! I can’t orgasm!”
His confession smacks you in the face. What? What the fuck are you supposed to do about that? But Bucky’s standing there looking worried and scared out of his mind and it doesn’t take much for you to finally believe he’s telling the truth and he isn’t just trying to get you into bed. Because that’s such a fucking brilliant, messed up, most dramatic lie one could possibly conjure up from thin air or the depths of their ass. “And you thought I could—?”
“It’s sick, I know, but I’m all out of ideas! I’m in so much pain when I try but nothing happens. I’ve tried everything,” Bucky pleads, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
“There are… there are toys and porn and this wonderful thing called lube—” you stutter, looking anywhere but at the man bouncing his leg up and down so fast it’s louder than your voice.
Bucky interrupts, face falling in the most beautiful way. “Doll, I’ve tried them. I can’t orgasm. I feel good, I’m on top of the fucking world, but I can’t come. It’s like my body rejects it and I’m left with so much pain and want that I—”
“Okay, okay. Hey?” He’s shaking, vibrating with a deep shame that you have to hold his shoulders in place. You wait for him to control his breathing and then you press down slightly, trying something you’ve never actually done before. If you can heal physical injuries, who’s to say you can’t heal matters of the mind? You try to transfer as much peaceful and positive sensations through your body to him. He shoulders slack in several movements, like he’s fighting it, but then he slumps forward until his forehead connects softly against your stomach. “I’ll help.”
His breathing picks up again, and he tries to get closer by rubbing his head against you. “You’re my last fucking choice, doll. It’s so goddamn frustrating!”
“Hey, it’s okay.” You trace your fingers through his short hair, making sure to rub the areas you massaged on yourself. This isn’t making you uncomfortable, not at all — it’s making you feel insanely sympathetic. You hate when anyone is in pain and filled with dangerous amounts of frustration, but the fact that it’s Bucky, one of the kindest souls you’ve ever met, it’s absolutely devastating. “I’ve never actually… healed anything of that sort so I don’t know if it’ll work.”
Bucky grumbles, “I feel like I’m forcing you. I promise you, you were my last resort.”
You chuckle, still carding your fingers through his scalp. “Please, make me feel more wanted.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that. Just… you’ve gotta know how embarrassing this is.”
He doesn’t exactly feel you nod, but he assumes by your slight shuffle that you did. “We can try, okay?” The question burns in the middle of your throat, but you ask it anyway. Your nerves are starting to get the best of you. “Do you want to now?”
Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few moments so you send more soft sensations through your body to him, and he suddenly purrs in desperation. “Please.”
“Okay, hey Bucky, it’s okay,” you say, pulling his face away from your stomach so he can see your face. “I promise this isn’t disturbing me. Don’t worry. If you’re in pain, that’s what I try to stop.”
Bucky scans your face until he really doesn’t find any hints of regret or uneasiness. But as Bucky has realized before: he’s a man with a fuck ton of morality, a gentleman in all definitions, and he can’t fathom having you touch him intimately without returning the favor, at least. If that’s what you want. Because even though this isn’t the best way to initiate sex with the girl he’s been crushing on for several months now, he can’t just let it be some awkward roll around that you two never speak of again. “Can I… can I kiss you?”
“Sure.” The question makes you smile dumbly, the innocence of it calming you. “We’re gonna try just a good ol’ fashioned handjob, alright? Start slow.”
Bucky nods quickly and practically jumps across the bed to dig through his bedside table. He pulls the big container of lube out and throws it on the bed. You watch him, amused and sorry all at once, because this really must be a big deal for him. Out of all the things you thought he would want to talk about, this sure as hell wasn’t on the list. But you were a natural healer and when one of your friends was in pain, it was your job to make them feel good again. This wasn’t exactly in the job description, but Bucky’s eyebrows are drawn up so tightly and his bottom lip is bruised from biting that it’s impossible to deny him release.
“Lay back,” you instruct. “I’m going to try to make you feel as comfortable as possible. It should help clear your mind.”
Bucky swallows loudly but agrees. You climb on top of him slowly and avoid touching your bottom with his crotch. But it still seems to ignite Bucky, because one second he’s breathing slowly and controlled and the next he’s shutting his eyes and involuntarily gripping your hips and keeping them in place. You gasp and look down at him. He’s turning such a beautiful shade of pink already and his mouth parts with a silent whine as he holds you there, desperately wanting to slide you back and forth as his cock hardens. “You good?”
He swallows again and opens his eyes. Big mistake, Bucky thinks, and he whines loudly at the wonderful view he has. Your beautiful red lips, loose wavy hair, that small mascara smudge beneath your left eye. If his body doesn’t allow him to come this time, Bucky swears on his mother’s grave that he’ll put that bullet in his head. To have you here looking the way you do, full weight squishing him into the mattress ever so slightly — god, you deserved to see him come. You deserve the praise. “I’m good,” he finally answers.
You give him a tiny smile and shyly run your hands up his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you reach the first trace of skin. Bucky sucks in air in a big gulp and tries to focus on your hands. Closing your eyes, you breathe in slowly.
Already, he feels light tingles ignite on the skin you’re blessing. It starts near his collarbones and trails up his willing neck, following the grace of your fingertips like a spreading wildfire. Then you’re dancing alongside his chin and up his cheeks until you cup the sides of his temples and squeeze gently. Suddenly Bucky feels like he’s floating and he releases a small groan. His hips thrust upward but you ignore that — you don’t even think he realized he did it. Then Bucky slowly exhales and the smile that appears on his lovely face tells you this might work.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”
Bucky opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the noticeable tears of bliss before nodding. You lean forward, tipping your body but leaving your hands clasped around his temples. Until finally your lips meet and Bucky feels hazy, filled under a deep, peaceful state that refreshes every tangled wire in his brain, loosens all his muscles, and clears his mind from depressing thoughts about bad endings and things he can’t have. He can feel your power flowing through his veins and into the deep crevices of his thoughts and he doesn’t care about anything anymore — just the feeling of your soft lips and taste of the sweet flavored lipstick.
And you feel it too. Whenever you heal someone, there is always this slight vibration that travels from their ill body to yours. For a second it’s weird, like you’re consumed by all the bad things plaguing them, until it turns into this sweet relief, their sweet relief, and it pools over you in waves of satisfaction. You’ve helped them, healed them, stitched them up and it makes you feel all-powerful.
Bucky’s chest heaves faster. He’s getting impatient but he’s so brilliant beneath you, eyes closed with a blissed smile that tells you he’s enjoying this as much as you are. “You ready?”
Bucky nods, a little hazy, and watches as you lift yourself from his lap. He helps you undress him until he’s stark naked, shivering against the sheets.
You try to be professional, if that’s even possible in a situation like this, but Bucky Barnes is underneath you in all his morning glory. He’s absolutely beautiful — red in the cheeks and down his sculpted chest, nipples pearled and begging to be licked, fingers (both flesh and metal) extending across the cotton sheets like newly blossomed spring flowers, hardening cock dripping from the mere idea of finally finishing — so yes, absolutely beautiful. And it’s taking everything within you not to milk him of every drop he has to offer with your mouth or your pulsing heat. For now, for Bucky’s own fucking sanity because oh my god this guy is about to fall off the edge of the earth, you’ll utilize your magic hands.
“I’m going to start by… um, feeling you up? Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Bucky breathes in slowly and chuckles a little. “Have handjobs changed in the last century?”
You lightly smack his thigh, flushing with guilty pride at his startled intake of air. “No. I just mean, do you like to be spoken to? Do you want me to call you anything? I want to make this as good as possible.”
“I’m flattered, doll,” Bucky smirks. You roll your eyes and trace your fingertips along the tops of his thighs. It elicits a delicious groan from the super soldier. If your light touches are getting him this hard, this blushed, then he must really be in desperate pain. “I like to be spoken to. I think. I like your voice.”
“Oh? You like my voice?” you tease, inching your fingertips closer to the fine dip of his inner thighs. He tries to settle his hips but fails, and the small jump makes you giggle. “Okay, I’m going to start. If you feel like you need to stop, just say it. I’ll pull back immediately.”
“Okay.” He sucks in another deep breath and gives you a tentative smile. “I’m ready.”
Nodding, you finally close the distance between the two of you. Your small hand wraps around his pulsing cock in a trained grip. You squeeze a little harder and run your hand up and down slowly, working him gently through the hot friction. He mewls low and his hands come up to latch onto the bedposts behind his head. He holds them, holding himself in place, and groans.
“Please, please, please,” he chants, rutting up into your dry hand. You let him feel the warmth of skin-to-skin before leaning over the bed for the lube. He doesn’t register your movement until he hears the click of the bottle. “Yes, doll. Please!”
“I’ve got you,” you say, almost like a whisper. “Focus on me, okay?”
You encircle him once again but this time his hips fully leave the mattress and his chest heaves as it expels a gorgeous moan. His eyes shoot open, tears brimmed on his bottom lashes, and his mouth is twisting into a euphoric smile.
It doesn’t feel like any time before, Bucky knows this for sure, and he’s certain that he’s in heaven. He wants to believe this will work, that all he was experiencing was a tiny case of being touch-starved — but he doesn’t want to jinx it. Another wave of pleasurable rapture works through him, from the tips of his toes to the meat of his heart, and he really can’t stop smiling.
You resettle your hips on his thighs and work him faster. The lube is making a naughty squelching noise, the sound bouncing off the walls and working you as well. You can feel your thighs clenching involuntarily, breath picking up, and your panties stick uncomfortably. You want to reach down with your other hand and work yourself to the same edge Bucky needs to jump off of, but it’s not your time. It’s not your turn.
You rub up and down in both fast and tight strokes, alternating to slow and light, that it leaves Bucky screaming for more. It feels so good that he entirely forgets to shut himself up. He’s moaning up to the ceiling, eyes rolled to the back of his head, spit accumulating by the sides of his mouth. His cock throbs in your hand, all thick and engorged with a need to burst. Leaning down, you place wet kisses along his chest and up to his collarbones, swiping licks here and there, and work your way back down to his hard nipples. You lick a swipe across his left one, wrapping your lips around the hardened nub to tug it lightly. You can feel Bucky’s heart beating rapidly, like it’s ready to beat out of his chest, and there’s a wonderful sheen of sweat building across his soft skin.
“How you doing, baby?” The term accidentally slips from your mouth, all low and lusty, and you wonder if you should have discussed it first with Bucky. But he responds with a literal bounce of his hips and deep whine in his throat, making a mumbled ‘mmpf’ noise. You figure he liked it. “You doing good? You look so great, Bucky. All hot and wet underneath me. You like being all hot and wet for me?”
“Fuck! Yes, yes, I do, please.”
His voice is higher. He looks damn good begging.
“Do you want me to kiss you again? You wanna be kissing me, feeling me when I make you come?”
“Uh! Yes, doll! Please, fuck me, please!” His last ‘please’ is muffled as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip and he’s rutting again. Your hand is working wonders, sliding up and down his hard cock at the perfect rhythm, the perfect speed, and he just about cries a cry that would shatter the windows when your thumb rubs under the head and over his leaking slit.
It takes a few moments to realize he had just begged you to fuck him. It does things — twisting your insides until the tight coil gives your clit a literal heartbeat — but again, you’re keeping it professional. A sick, selfish thought forms: What if he needs you to do this again?
You can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips and Bucky notices — fuck, he feels that sound slip into his veins and his blood and right down to his thick cock. He pulses in your hand and he’s back to begging. “Doll, kiss me. I need you, please.”
You lay chest to chest, right hand working him deliciously while you scale the left to cup the side of his face. You push all the healing magic — or whatever it’s called, all you know is that it feels like a warm hug and comfort food according to people you’ve worked on — through your chest and your hands, watching the way Bucky enjoys every second of it. You kiss him deep and hard, involuntary gasps leaving your lips to enter through his. He ruts his hips up into your magic hand quicker.
“Come for me, baby,” you instruct, pulling your hand up to squeeze the head of his cock. “Come in my hand, come all over yourself, Bucky. You’re almost there.”
“Ah!” Bucky yells, his hands finally leaving the bedpost to smack down onto your ass. The jolt startles you. “Mmpf, I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”
“Whatever you need, Bucky. Touch me.” Your words literally break him. He mumbles a quick ‘fuck me’ under his breath as he scans your face, then he grips your ass tightly and ruts you against him, your jean-clad body providing a rough but pleasurable rub against his naked hips. Your hand moves quicker, stroking him from the base of his cock to his leaking red tip. “Fuck, Bucky. You need it so bad? Look at you.”
He starts to moan the first half of your name, but it’s muffled horribly. He’s gasping out little blows of air, his lips bruised with your lipstick, and he feels the coil begin to burst. He doesn’t want to think of it not working, hell fucking no, so he focuses on your face. Your lovely face that looks just as fucked-out and blissed as his probably does, and he practically loses it.
“I’m gonna come,” he tries, pushing out the syllables as best as he can. The whole compound must hear his yelps but he can’t stop. He can’t stall his hips, he can’t stop his moaning, he can’t stop looking deep into your eyes as you work him to his much needed release. But needs more — god, if this is the only chance he’ll ever get to come again, he needs to speak up now — so he groans a restrained request of: “Doll, please touch me more. More. I need it.”
He shuts his eyes and groans, takes your hand resting gently on his cheek, and brings it down below until your fingers brush against his perineum. He practically purrs and it hits you immediately. You nod and kiss him hard again, stroking him to the finish line and gathering the excess lube with your other fingers, until they’re slick enough for you to tease his entrance and rub the sweet area between his tight balls and tight heat.
He has to grip the bedpost again, he has to, because the stimulation against his prostate and delicious wrap of your hand causes him to break the wood and rattle the bed. He looks so good, so fucking marvelous, that it’s even too much for you. You squeeze your thighs as best you can with his body restricting direct access, until you’re coming without even being touched once. The shock vibrates through you and unknowingly into the super soldier below you.
His muscles tighten and cock leaks in desperation and Bucky watches your face contort into one of pure ecstasy and he’s…
It hits him almost violently, but so damn sweet. He can feel your waves as much as they hit you. He’s moaning recklessly, loudly, and he feels on top of the world. His release paints your clenched hand and his heaving stomach, even all the way up to his chest and chin. He rides it like it’s his last journey, focusing on your face and the fingers still rubbing his sweet area to milk him for every last drop. He blacks out for a moment, muscles loosening and hips finally settling, until he’s left with the pure, fucked-out bliss of his long-awaited orgasm.
He legitimately wants to cry.
The two of you lay there, you on his chest and him jelly below you, until he tires from the overstimulation and he assures you he’s alright.
Neither of you know what to say.
“I guess you do have magic hands.”
You whip the pillow into Wanda’s face and attempt to smother her as she cackles from what you just revealed to her. Because c’mon, you had to talk about it. It’s the naughtiest, most erotic thing you have ever done in your life and you two didn’t even have full-on sex. You were out the door (after checking for the millionth time that Bucky was okay, of course) and in the comfort of your own room too quickly. You felt awkward leaving him to clean up and sleep alone, like there was this unspoken need between you both. But that’s the thing — you both knew you should have stayed. Or at least, were supposed to stay.
But it’s done, you’ll ask him if he’s healed or whatever later today, and you two can move on and live life. Except you’ll live through life with the memory of his lips on yours, the weight of his perfect cock in your hands, the feeling of his hard chest against yours.
“Stop, oh my god! You can’t say anything!”
Wanda gasps dramatically, “Who would I tell? How would that conversation go?”
You grumble and throw yourself back down on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “You think he expects me to move on?”
Wanda raises an eyebrow, “You just gave the boy his first orgasm in seventy years. He’s not letting you go that easily.”
“Oh, so now I’m just someone he calls when he needs my hands?”
“Stop selling yourself short,” Wanda says. “He chose you for a reason. You’re blind if you don’t see it.”
She stares at you for a long moment until she realizes you’re serious. “Are you kidding me? He could have gone to the hospital, hired a sex worker, tried with literally everyone else before coming to you —”
“Is this supposed to make me feel good? Nice pep talk.”
“No,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “Sure, he knows about your powers. That quite well could have been a major factor in him asking you. But he still thought of you first — he was comfortable with you, comfortable asking you, he trusts you!”
You pause and twiddle your fingers together. “You think?”
“He could have asked me.”
Suddenly, irrationally, you feel jealous. Before you object, Wanda lifts her hand in defense to explain. “It’s not a problem with his body. I mean, sure, the mind and body are connected. But it’s his head that needed the push. My powers could have worked too.”
That makes a whole lot of sense. “So you’re saying I should just… run with it?”
Wanda shoves her feet underneath your thighs and moves them wildly, urging you to get out of bed. You shuffle away from her prodding toes. “I’m saying go for it! Ask him if he wants to get dinner. Ask him if he wants to fuck you!”
“You know I’m right!”
This could go two ways: either Bucky wants to start something up with you, all innocent with the benefit of knowing your healing hands can help him again in the future; or, Bucky says no — thanks for the one time fling! But I’m good! — and you’re back to somewhat normal routines. Sure, it’ll be the slightest bit embarrassing but you’ve been rejected worse. That’s what college was all about.
“You don’t think I’m being too straightforward about it? Like he’ll feel pressured because he thinks he owes me one?”
“Oh my god,” Wanda groans. “He’s a guy.”
You blow a raspberry and look from Wanda to the door. “Fuck it.”
Bucky stops pouring his glass of water to watch you enter the communal kitchen. There’s no one else around so he cringes without thinking twice. “I’m sorry if I made this awkward.”
Almost immediately, your eyes widen. “No! You didn’t make anything awkward. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound all that convincing.
You bite down on your bottom lip and strain your ears to make sure there are no footsteps getting closer. “So… have you tried… again?”
Bucky clears his throat, “Yeah.”
“Did it work?”
It’s slightly embarrassing to repeat that question. “Did… it work this time? Alone?”
Bucky nods but his eyes wander to the corner of the room. “Yeah, good as new.”
“Oh, awesome! Glad I could help.” You don’t really believe him but that’s fine, you were planning on asking him out anyway. You weren’t planning on pouncing again so soon… unless he wanted you to. “So I was thinking —”
“Bucky,” your tone becomes more serious. He avoids your gaze. “Are you lying to me?”
“Nope, all good.”
He sighs again and his voice sounds like he’s guilty of this, guilty of begging. “Doll, please don’t make me say it.”
“Really? After what we did, you're too shy to ask me again?”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“Because it looks like I’m using you!”
You get where he’s coming from. But it’s technically your job to help others when they’re in pain. This isn’t exactly in your job description but it’s Bucky, and you understand the need and pleasure of an orgasm. If anything, Bucky deserves to feel free in this portion of his life. He deserves to feel good after years of being mistreated. “Okay, how about this? We go out to dinner. And we do it the modern way — I’ll be slutty and blow you on the first date.”
He’s startled into a laughing fit. “Doll, what?”
You try again, smiling like a dork so he knows he can decline, no questions asked. “Yeah, let’s be sluts together. Or simply go to dinner. It doesn’t matter to me what we do.” You shrug, expression as gentle as ever. “I like you, Bucky.”
Bucky holds his breath and stares at you with wide eyes. “You like me?”
“A hell of a lot. Yeah.”
“And this doesn’t bother you?”
“You being this worried about me and the situation is enough to convince me that you’re a good man.”
Bucky thinks this over. And he knows you’re a good person, too. “Dinner.”
The date goes surprisingly well. The reservations were cleared, no one bothered you by phone or in person, and the two of you spoke all night about a thousand things. It really does feel like a friendship forged into something more literal, something more romantic, that it doesn’t even feel weird when Bucky pushes you through his bedroom door and immediately locks you in place against the wall with his lips attacking yours.
You respond immediately, pulling him by his jacket collar to try and get him to press harder — if that’s even possible. There’s so much desperate tenderness in the kiss that you’re overwhelmed. But it only prompts you to keep going.
Bucky’s hot breath meets yours and he pulls you to start walking in time with his steps, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed and you’re falling over him, draping yourself as tenderly as you can. Half of your brain reminds you that you need to exercise some restraint, and the other half knows you’ll still need to utilize your powers. But it’s fine — everything is fine and dandy as long Bucky keeps sucking the soft skin below your ear just like that.
“Do you wanna—?” Bucky’s words come out slurred and he already looks so far gone that you take pity on him. You really do because even though you can survive with some light teasing and a ton of foreplay, Bucky looks like he might burst at the fondest touch. Maybe that's exactly what he needs...
“I wanna,” you gasp, licking a soft swipe from the middle of his neck to his chin. He shivers, emboldened by it, and grabs the fabric of your shirt to help pull you up higher with him on the bed. A few seconds later, he helps you take it off. You grab ahold of his face and press your lips hard against his again, somewhat fighting your tongue with his and biting his bottom lip. He seems to enjoy it, a lot, and he whines low in his throat as he moves to pull his own shirt from his body. It’s a quick mess of scrambling limbs to strip all the other layers, but it happens and soon you’re rubbing against each other, all heat and bare.
You bask in the softness of his light stubble, loving the way it burns against your cheeks and the skin of your chest. Bucky’s taking his time but also leaving kisses lightening fast. Every so often he whispers a quiet “fuck you taste so good”, or “can’t believe you really want me,” and “I need to feel you. All of you.”
“Mm, Bucky, are you sure? I can always just help you out-“
“Fuck that, doll. You deserve some attention, too. All the damn time. Let me show you off.” He pants against your sweaty skin and runs both his hands up your back. You’re sitting in his lap while his back rests against the headboard. He tries to pull you in closer as he wraps his plump lips around your perky nipple, swirling his tongue gently as he sucks. He tries to resist smirking because of the loud moan you let slip, telling himself to stay focused on the task at hand. That being the wonderful swell of your breasts in his face.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
God, he loves that pet name. You are his doll and he is your baby and he just wants to hear that name tumble from your lips for the rest of his life. He bites down gently and sucks your nipple again, this time truly smiling as it elicits an obscene sound from you.
“You,” Bucky pants and flips the two of you over. “You, you, you.”
You grin at the cheesy statements but it’s true on your end as well. You only want him, him, him. The non-selfish half of your brain sparks, reminding you that he wants you, but you know you have such a kink for servicing him.
So you wrap your legs around his naked hips and flip back over, catching yourself on his sculpted chest. He arches an eyebrow, looks like he’s about to protest, but you quickly dip down to capture his lips in another heated kiss. All protests seem to melt.
“You’ll get me,” you promise, sliding down his body and leaving kisses on your way down. “But first let’s test some magic.”
Bucky’s soul almost leaps from his body when your mouth takes his cock fully. He can’t do anything but drown in the pleasure and watch as your lips wraps around his cock so beautifully, cheeks slightly hollowed, eyes staring back up at him as he tries to control his heavy breathing. You bob your head slowly and take him deeper, deep enough that your throat begins warning you, but he feels so good inside your mouth that you risk it, only coming up for air when Bucky releases a choked gasp.
“Doll, fuck, ah!” He yells loud enough that the whole compound must know what’s happening behind his closed doors when you lick a long swipe from the base of his cock to the leaking tip, gliding over the accumulating pool of pre-come. You keep licking, hoping to elicit even more dirty sounds from him (not like he ever stops), and wrap your lips around the head. You suck hard and prepare yourself for the undeniable surge of Bucky’s hips. His cock slides easily past your waiting lips, and then you’re back to choking him down.
Bucky thinks, your mouth is heaven for a sinner like him. He doesn’t deserve your light touches, that brilliant mouth of yours, and soon the tight wet heat that’s sure to turn his brain into literal fucking jelly. He’s sure you’re about to fuck him stupid. And he wants it, goddamn does he want it, so he throws caution to the wind and has the audacity to ask for more.
It comes out like babbles, his pretty pink lips forming syllables but not exactly full words. It takes some time, but you understand his gorgeous stuttering as a plea of “I need more.”
He sounds almost pained and you’re suddenly scared your hands and mouth won’t be enough this time. Because even if you’re not fully thinking about the logistics of his problem, you can’t help but think he might need more stimulation this time. Or multiple orgasms.
He’s a super soldier, you think. He can handle a few orgasms.
“Okay,” you say once you release him from your mouth. You lean over to the nightstand where he pulled that massive bottle of lube the other day and take it out. He follows your movement and almost comes from the sight of the bottle alone. He’s excited, absolutely bursting at the seams, and he tries to discreetly open his legs wider.
You try to hide your blush. You catch him trying to spread himself wider, eyes practically begging, and you have to ignore the sudden rush of slickness that drips from your cunt and down your thighs. Bucky notices, however, and runs his metal fingers through your slit to gather as much slick as he can before bringing them up to his mouth. You jolt from the coldness and practically squeal. Bucky sucks each finger one by one, groaning like a starving man. “You taste so fucking good, doll.”
You rub your thighs together and whimper from the pressure that applies to your needy clit. “You do too.”
He shines a lazy smile at your direction and watches as you smother your fingers with plenty of lube. You meet his eye and he nods rapidly. “Please, doll. Fuck me.”
The breath catches in your throat but you make do, slipping first your middle finger. Bucky knows he’s not going to last long, that’s a definite promise, but he also doesn’t mind. He’s ready to come multiple times, for as long as you let him. He sings your name as you begin rubbing his sensitive hole, slowly slicking him up until he seems ready to finally take the intrusion. He relaxes all his muscles, turning all negative thoughts off inside his mind, and chooses to simply focus on you. The way your baby hairs curl at the top of your forehead when sweaty; the way your mouth parts when you’re concentrating or nervous; the way your middle finger finally breaches his tight walls.
He groans deep in his throat as you push farther, then as you pull it out again only to slip it back in. You’re taking your time, he knows this, but he needs to come so damn badly that his stuttering could be mistaken as patterns of panic. “Please, ah!” He begs again, spreading his legs even wider and inviting you in.
Bucky gasps and starts panting as you stretch him. He looks absolutely glorious with his red cheeks and red neck and moist lips and tousled hair. He about screams once you push the finger all the way in, lovingly stretching him long enough until he’s ready for a second. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the pillows as he chants your name through parted lips. Your two fingers begin a steady pace, massaging his walls and filling him up, until you begin your search for his needy bundle. You curl both your fingers a couple times, sliding them in and out of his body, and Bucky rises off the bed when you finally find what you’ve been searching for.
“Oh! I — oh! Yes!”
It’s too much and too little at the same time. Bucky feels you milking his prostate, repeatedly rubbing against it with the pads of your fingers, that it’s like a mini orgasm each time. His eyes water with unshed tears and his throat bobs hard as he swallows. He’s so close, so damn close, and he can no longer control the rush of profanities falling out of him.
“Let go, Bucky,” you encourage him as you push your fingers deeper and harder into him, all the while hitting his prostate with the curve of your fingers each time. “I’m nowhere near finished with you yet, baby.”
Bucky chokes on his loudest moan yet and fucks himself down onto your fingers. You grab ahold of his aching cock at the same time you’re plowing him, and it’s only one, two, three squeezes of his cock for him to come over your hand and his heaving chest. He clenches hard around your fingers and continues to fuck himself down, cursing and mumbling as he rides his high. Soon enough he’s recovering with your now still fingers stretching him out and your tongue licking up the mess he made over himself.
“That was,” he tries, out of breath and voice a little ragged. “Fucking fantastic.”
You giggle, outright giggle, and Bucky loves it.
“Ready for round two?”
Bucky looks down at himself and thinks it’s impossible for him to be ready again. But the sight he’s met with surprises him. He’s just come, powerful and heavy, and he feels relieved — but his cock is still throbbing with the desire to be touched and messed with. Seeing himself so willing so soon gets him hot, and his cock jumps a little as it rests on his stomach.
“Do your worst,” he challenges, smiling with teeth and crinkles around his eyes. Your heart yearns to beat out your chest.
You’re merciful and instead of making him wait through more foreplay, you simply kick a leg over so you're hovering over his hips. Your slick has escaped the confines of your heat, sticking against your thighs and even somehow becoming smeared against your lower tummy. Bucky’s got his cock lubed up but it doesn’t even seem to matter. You hold him up and slide yourself down, easily enveloping him inside your tight walls until he bottoms out.
“Oh, fuck...” Bucky moans, throwing his head back and sucking in a few deep breaths. You dissolve into it, gasping as he ruts his hips up. He rolls them at the right angle so that it provides a delicious rub against your clit. You brace yourself with your hands on his chest, marveling at his sculpted pecs, or literal tits.
Bucky lets out a shuddering moan at the feel of your hands on him, and wow you have such magic hands. He can feel the same sensations you poured into him the other day and his mind becomes so calm and focused on you, you, you. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold out for long this second time around.
You lift yourself up and down slowly, relishing in the amazing stretch the girth of his cock provides — it’s everything you could ever hope for. He drags over every tight crevice and hits your sweet spot so good that you compare it to a devilishly wonderful torture. Bucky tries to contribute, pushing his thick cock fast and dirty now, and lets out a huffed laugh from the wrecked squeals you’re voicing.
“Bucky, oh my god, oh my god,” you say repeatedly, the same unshed tears on the brim of your eyelashes that Bucky still seems to have. You vaguely register your insane stuttering and Bucky’s as well, but the feeling of him filling you up is just too wonderful to focus on anything else. It won’t be long before he pulls a delicious and violent orgasm from you.
Bucky watches as you bounce yourself up and down on his throbbing cock: hair covering your face, breasts bouncing joyfully, your tight wet cunt swallowing him a little more each time you direct yourself downward. He grips your hips and helps you, aware of his use of medium strength, and begins pounding into you. It takes everything in you to remain sitting up as he thrusts hard and deep.
“You take my cock so good, doll,” Bucky mutters, quickly gasping in a breath of air from the sudden constriction you give around him. Another thing you two have in common then: a love for dirty talk.
“Uh-huh,” you say — it’s the only thing you’re able to say. Bucky has lifted his legs and brought his knees up and everytime he pushes up to meet your bounce he hits that wonderful place inside you that makes you see all the stars in the universe. Your throat is already starting to dry but it’s not possible to stop the sounds you emit.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Bucky admits, out of breath after each word. You just smile down at him, a tiny laugh escaping, and try to nod along in agreement.
“It’s… oh, it’s a long time coming,” you say and lean forward so you’re now chest to chest with Bucky. He takes this as a nonverbal way of letting him know you’re tiring, so he snaps his hips up greedily and tries not to come so suddenly from your loud moans right next to his ear and breath brushing his neck.
“You know,” you push out, smacking your lips almost sloppily against his neck. “They’ll kill us both when they find out.”
“Doll,” Bucky warns, grinning when you constrict around him. Naughty, he thinks.
“Yeah, only Wanda knows.” Bucky whines, a sudden wave of arousal hitting him unexpectedly. “And when Sam found out we were going to dinner, he was so mad.”
“Uh! Doll, what are you trying to do to me?”
“What?” There’s that giggle he loves so much, only this time it’s accompanied by a groan. “You know better. Sam blows up when I even mention dating.”
This Bucky knows. He’s been witness to the eye rolls and groans from the team whenever you brought up flirting, dating, or even the taboo topic of sleeping with another human being. But it was always you they made stop talking about it, always you they didn’t want to hear the full story from, always with you they went out of their way to approve or disapprove when it came to dating. The thought of the team knowing he’s fucking you now, kissing every inch of your needy body — the fact he’s about to come inside your tight pussy makes his vision go blurry. It shouldn’t be turning him on so bad, you’re so young and he’s almost fucking forty, but it’s igniting a flame inside his stomach and he begins rutting up faster, chasing his upcoming high.
“You like that, baby?” you question, mouth hanging open from the several brutal thrusts. “You like knowing you’re not supposed to be fucking me?”
“Fuck!” Bucky literally screams, pulling you by the hair to bring your lips back down onto his as he comes. You catch every one of his stuttering gasps into your mouth and clench around him to aid in his release. His come paints your walls and adds to the obscene wetness between your thighs. His hips still but his breathing stays ragged.
“C’mon, Bucky,” you breathe, lifting yourself back up to sit on top of him. He’s still deep inside you, slowly becoming soft but by the look on his face, he’s still not ready to leave this heavenly cloud of bliss. “You got another one for me?”
Bucky slowly nods, head thrown back into the pillows. He’s got a million more for you if that’s what you need, and the build-up he’s acquired over the last two weeks only urges him on. He hisses from the overstimulation as you drag yourself up and down again, slowly and gently, helping him with the blood flow. He looks down to see you work, and groans deeply when he sees how his come is spilling from you, painting the sides of his cock with each lovely spring of your hips. You’re fucking his come back deeper into you with the most blissed-out look on your face that it’s enough to stop him from pulling you off and eating you out.
“Doll, god!” He holds your hips in place and rubs you back and forth, making sure he’s deep inside and that the base of his cock is providing a heavenly rub against your swollen clit. You card your fingers through Bucky’s soft curls, pulling ever so slightly, and press an open-mouth kiss to jaw, then to cheeks, then to his wet lips.
“You just came and now you’re ready for another,” you tease, purposely keeping your tone light so it doesn’t sound like judgement. But Bucky doesn’t catch judgement at all — no — he’s thriving from it. ‘Baby’ is doing it for him, he thinks. What would ‘slut’ sound like coming from your lips?
Just the mere thought has him hard and ready again, already suffering the magnificent abuse of the tight slide of your dripping cunt. He wants you to fuck him in every position he’s tried these past two weeks, wants you to use all the toys he originally thought he wasted money on, and he wants you to whisper all the naughtiest, raunchy shit you can come up with every single night from now on. If he’s never able to come again from his own hand, he just prays that you’re willing and always around when he craves it.
You and your magic hands, he thinks. And now magical cunt, too.
He accidentally makes himself chuckle and he presses his lips harder against yours to make it seem like he’s transitioning into a moan. You catch it, however — and it prompts you to speak even more.
“I want you to come inside me all the times you want, okay?” you practically beg, riding him faster. “I want you to fuck me until you can’t anymore, alright?”
Bucky shudders and trembles, only able to give a slight nod in return. He can do that — he can definitely do that.
“I want you to come to me whenever you need a proper fucking.” Gasping now, the words tumbling from your shaking lips are unavoidable. The girth of his cock is already causing a light burn, but it’s so damn delectable and the coil at the base of your tummy is about to burst. Bucky feels it too because you’re starting to clench uncontrollably.
“I want you to be so damn loud that the whole compound knows you’re giving it to me just right.” Ragged breaths interrupt most of your words. “I want them to know that it’s your cock making me scream.”
“O-oh fuck,” Bucky arches his back and gasps, clenching around nothing and reminded that the next time you two do this, he wants to be just as full as you are. His flesh hand drags fingernails down your back, leaving light red marks in its wake. He’s aware of his metal hand, that one stays gripping the side of your hip, helping you bounce as you chase your high.
“‘Cause you’re not supposed to be fucking me, huh?” Now your own words make you chuckle. It almost feels like you’re disobeying your parents, fucking the man they disapprove of in their bed. “How do you think they’ll react when they find out I’m your little slut?”
“Doll, I can’t —”
“Fuck, you feel so good. Come for me, Bucky.”
“Okay,” he gasps ineloquently, before his jaw drops almost comically as you move up and down with a constant squeeze. You’re milking him, unapologetically milking him, lighting up every single one of his nerve endings.
He watches as your eyes clench shut and the most beautiful sound tumbles from your lips as you start to unravel. He comes at the same time you do, shooting his third load of the night deep inside your hot, soft walls, mixing with your own slick, his release from a few minutes ago, and the almost obscene amount of lube. He holds you there and makes tiny attempts at thrusting deep, letting you ride your orgasm and milk him of his.
The two of you lap at each other’s mouth for the few minutes you’re lying in the gloss of your releases, swallowing each other’s breaths and sharing each other’s warmth. Bucky knows that even with all that talk, you’re going to need a break. He’d happily go again, even though his cock is sensitive as all hell, but a break would only prepare you both for the next day. It’s late now and all Bucky wants to do is hold you in his sleep.
He doesn’t think it’s all that extreme to call you his savior.
“You good?” you mumble, lifting yourself gently from his chest. He hums his answer and greets you with a lazy smile. Slowly, you lift yourself off and turn to lie on your back. A shower sounds brilliant. “So, experiment number two — it worked!”
Bucky breaks into a fit of giggles and pulls you into his chest, holding you close and brushing his hand through your hair. He sighs, relishing in the soft feeling expanding within his chest. “Thank you.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes — being thanked for lending a literal helping hand is quite hilarious. “Don’t mention it.”
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𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀
𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || You get stuck in Christmas lights and Bucky fucks you.
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || unprotected sex, oral sex, facial. PWP. MINORS DNI 🔞
This is for my dearest friend @chrisskisses Thank you so much Amber for all your help! This is the only thank you gift I can give you at the moment and I hope you like this surprise! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎
You pouted and shifted around in your cozy bed hoping to find a position where you’d fall asleep again.
You were sleeping peacefully in Bucky’s arms when you had woken up thirsty. You were frustrated to wake up from such a deep slumber and you were too comfortable to get up and drink water.
It was the Christmas Eve and both you and Bucky had celebrated it with much pomp and happiness. Instead of going to any of the parties, you had decided to stay in and spend the evening watching movies and eating your favourite foods.
After watching a sappy rom com, you had made sweet love and fallen asleep on your spacious bed. Now you turned around to see Bucky peacefully snoring and unaware of your ordeal.
Your mouth was too dry to sleep again, so finally, after much huffing and cursing, you got out of your covers and walked towards the kitchen with your eyes half hooded with sleep.
Yawning and rubbing your eyes, you walked mostly based on your instinct. But you were halfway through the way, when you tripped on the light strings beautifully placed on the wall and the floor.
You had decided to make this Christmas special for Bucky. After all that he had gone through, he deserved all the happiness in the world. You had decorated the entire house with lights and baked cookies and bought festive sweaters.
You grumbled in your sleep and tried to untangle your feet from the web of lights. You tried pulling the strings apart but only ended up getting your hands stuck in it too. “Fuck!”
You shifted further and by now all the sleep had left your eyes and you were simply annoyed and angry. Just minutes before you were dead asleep and look at you now, on your hands and knees with lights wrapped around your limbs.
“What a sight to wake up to.” Bucky’s voice was thick as it usually was when he woke up. Bucky ogled your ass and licked his lips.
He had woken up to your cursing and grumbling and you on your knees. Walking further, he playfully spanked your butt. “Bucky!”
“What?” He chuckled nonchalantly. “Help me!” You were annoyed as it is and Bucky wasn’t helping at all. Bucky chewed his lower lip and thought for a moment. “You’ll have to pay a tax, then I’ll help you.”
“Bucky, what are you saying? Just get me out of this.” Bucky shook his head in a childlike way, “Nope. Say you’ll pay the tax and I’ll do it.” You weren’t angry now, just intrigued by what Bucky had in mind.
“Okay. I’ll pay the tax.” You just sighed accepting the offer. “You look so beautiful covered in these lights, I can’t take my eyes off you. But you know, I was feeling a little hungry, so why don’t you let me eat my favourite dessert?”
You smiled broadly at Bucky, “Really? You don’t need to ask me to eat that cheesecake.” Why was he asking as if you weren’t going to allow him or something?
“I love cheesecakes but it’s not my favourite.” His eyes trailed down to your ass and the realisation dawned on you. “Seriously? It’s the middle of the night Bucky, get me out of this and let’s go back to sleep!”
Though you pretended to be against that idea, you could do help but squirm with excitement. “Okay. You sleep here and I’ll sleep on the bed.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and left you reeling for more.
“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll pay the tax. You can have your dessert.” He showed off his pearly teeth in a wide grin and kneeled in front of you to kiss you.
The kiss was sweet and gentle very much unlike what was to come. His tongue gently explored your mouth and your lips pulled at one another. He bit your lower lip teasingly and pulled away.
You strained your neck to watch him go behind you. He was impatient and didn’t waste much time in tugging your shorts down. You were already dripping with excitement.
“So wet for me babydoll.” Pressing kisses to your thighs, he finally licked a long strip from your clit to your hole. “Fuck Bucky!” Your hands formed fists and your toes curled with anticipated pleasure.
After being with you for so long, Bucky knew exactly which spots made your eyes roll back. He held your legs tightly to prevent you from falling ahead.
His tongue teased you by kitten licking your clit until you were mewling and begging for more. Finally, he started fucking you with his tongue and you laid your head down on the floor and pushed your ass back into his face.
You were already close and the way Bucky sucked your clit, brought the pleasure down on you. Bucky didn’t stop lapping as you rode the waves of your orgasm.
Bucky had become painfully hard and now he just couldn’t stop at eating you out, he had to feel you around him. Pushing down his pants, he entered you in a single stroke while you were still riding the aftershocks.
“Bucky!” By now your brain was a mush only capable of calling Bucky’s name. “Shit. I couldn’t stop myself doll. Fuck…” he grunted as he began thrusting. “Gonna make you feel so good.”
Unlike the soft and sweet love you had made just mere hours ago, this was animalistic and raw fucking. The lewd sounds of your wet channel and skin slapping reverberated through the otherwise silent room.
Weaving his hand through your hair, he pulled you up as much as the lights allowed. He passionately kissed you as his hips rammed into yours. “You look so gorgeous right now.” Bucky’s warm breath fell on your ears.
Sweat was glistening on your body and you were iridescently glowing in the dark. The small lights were softly reflecting on your body and you were the best Christmas present Bucky could ask for.
His praise, his hand in your hair, the way he was thrusting into you and the small bites he peppered on your skin, made you tip down the crescendo of pleasure.
“I… I’m coming!” That was all the warning you gave before falling down the edge. Your legs shook and eyes rolled back as Bucky kept up his tempo. Bucky grunted as your walls held him tight.
After the mind numbing orgasm, you were panting on the floor and you whimpered when Bucky pulled out of your sensitive pussy. But that’s not what worried you, it was the fact that Bucky was still hard.
Quickly pouncing back on his feet, he once again walked in front of you. You blinked back the haze and realised he was jerking himself off and clearly understood his intent.
It wasn’t the first time, and you obediently closed your eyes and opened your mouth. “Such a good girl.” His voice was husky and you knew he was close.
His debauched moans and grunts were music to your ears. Soon you felt his warm seed coat your face and tongue and drip down to your chest. “Ahh… you look so pretty. A complete masterpiece.”
He knew he wasn’t ever going to forget this scene in front of his eyes. The lights, you on your knees and his cum dripping down your face, you looked like his wildest fantasy come true.
“Are you gonna help me now?” You asked with a fake hint of annoyance. You weren’t going to deny that you loved this impromptu session with Bucky, but neither were you going to accept.
“Just a minute!” With that he sprinted back into your bedroom only to return with his phone. “Gotta capture this moment.” With a grin plastered to his face, he quickly clicked a few photos of you.
Bucky was glad for the technology this modern world had to offer, back in his time this wouldn’t have been possible. Now your serene beauty wasn’t just stored in his memory but in his photo roll too.
In the pictures, wrapped in lights you stood out against the darkness of the room and his cum glistened on your skin. Throwing his phone away on the couch, he bent down to kiss you.
“Thank you for making this the best Christmas of my life. I love you.” He said while gently untangling the strings of light from your hands. It wasn’t just this night, it was everything you had being doing, from the gifts to the decorations.
“I love you Bucky. And this is the best Christmas of my life too because you’re with me.” He had finally freed your hands and legs and standing up, you wrapped your arms around his neck.
Pulling him close, you kissed the tip of his nose. “For this Christmas I just wish you’d be always tied up in the lights. You look so fucking sexy.” He groaned out. You playfully hit him on the back, “Bucky!”
Chuckling he wrapped his arms around you, and despite the cold of the winter, you felt warm in his embrace.
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hi dev ily and am here to send you a writing idea consisting of bucky experiencing his first meet cute, except instead of cute it's embarassing? if that makes sense?
Slam Dunk, Stupid ✗
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: You’ve heard of the ‘meet cute’… but have you heard of the ‘meet stupid?’ “The scene seems to play out in double speed and in slow motion all at once. The ball that he’d thrown—stupidly, idiotically—with near super soldier strength had collided squarely in the forehead of an unsuspecting bystander. An orange bullet between the eyes.”
warning(s): Bucky’s POV, lots of cursing (Bucky has a foul mouth!!!), Bucky is an angry dude (but what’s new), probably inaccurate depiction of someone playing basketball, someone gets hit in the head with a basketball but it’s not that traumatic dudes (it’s just dumb!)
author’s note: this actually happened to me (being hit in the face by a hot guy’s basketball, not me being the hot person to throw a basketball) in high school. it did not end as well as this fic, and I can still feel the sting of the ball colliding with my nose to this very day. stay safe, my non-athletic friends. it’s brutal out here!
word count: 1.4k
( masterlist // ko-fi // library )
It was hot.
There was so much fucking sweat on his forehead that it dripped down into his eyes, the salt stinging them and blurring his vision.
It was hot, and his eyes were burning, and his boxers were so soaked through that they were clinging to his ass. Bucky was thoroughly miserable.
Sam, on the other hand, seemed to be immune to the sweltering Louisiana heat. Brown skin covered in nothing more than what looked to be a healthy glow, Sam actually seemed to be thriving on the court beneath the hellfire sun. And if the fact that Bucky was so sweaty his clothes felt like a soggy second skin and Sam was hardly breaking a sweat wasn’t enough to send him over the edge, the way he was currently losing gloriously to Sam in their one-on-one basketball game was plenty to drive him there.
“Gotta be,” he pants, “fuckin’ kidding me.”
“No jokes,” Sam laughs, the sound uninterrupted by any labored breathing. “Just me straight whooping your ass.”
“Relax,” Bucky sidesteps him, dribbling the ball. “Eight points up. Wouldn’t call that whooping my ass.”
Grabbing the ball mid-dribble, Sam shoots and scores yet again before Bucky can even blink. “Eleven points up,” he corrects. “Think I’m whooping your ass yet?”
And maybe if the sun wasn’t lighting his skin aflame and the sweat in his eyes wasn’t practically blinding him and he wasn’t so goddamn miserable, Bucky would have clenched his fists and worked on his breathing. Used some of those exercises the doc had taught him for when he saw and wanted red.
But fuck it, he was miserable, and the sweat was blinding him, and the sun was broiling him alive.
It happens so fast that he isn’t sure how Sam has time to react.
Bucky scoops up the ball and chucks it in the direction of Sam’s head, no words but an angry yell leaving his lips. He throws hard and fast. For a split-second of non-red neural activity, he wonders why he hadn’t considered retiring from world-saving and seeing if there’s a spot for him on the mound at Yankee Stadium. Pay would be better, and his teammates wouldn’t be so goddamn infuriating as Samuel fuckin’ Wilson—
“Dude, calm your ass down—”
Sam ducks just in time, the ball an orange blur as it whizzes past his head and towards the bench at the edge of the court. The occupied bench at the edge of the court.
The scene seems to play out in double speed and in slow motion all at once. The ball that he’d thrown—stupidly, idiotically—with near super soldier strength had collided squarely in the forehead of an unsuspecting bystander. An orange bullet between the eyes.
She’s lying flat on her back, hand rubbing at the angry red bump already forming on her face, by the time he makes it to the bench.
“Are you–are you alright?”
Jesus fuckin’ Christ, of course she’s not alright.
But to Bucky’s immediate relief, she nods anyway. “You hit me in the fucking face.”
“I, uh,” he fumbles, feeling the shame that rises up in him when her eyes flutter open and he’s able to take in the totality of her features. Even a basketball to the face wasn’t able to obscure a face that pretty. “Yeah, I did.”
“Fuck, man,” Sam pants—of course, now he’s panting—once he’s finally caught up to the scene. “Help her up.”
They each offer her an arm, pulling her up on wobbly feet and helping her settle back down on the bench. She’s blinking back tears—from shock or from pain, or both. It makes his stomach curdle. He looks away.
Bucky notices a book, likely the one she’d been reading before being nailed in the face, strewn across the mulch. It’s dog-eared. He hopes that, at the very least, she was able to save the page she’d left off on.
“You need a doctor? Hospital or, uh, something?”
She seems a bit dazed, but otherwise alright. Or alright enough to level him with a look of annoyance.
“An ice pack would be nice.”
Bucky nods, but his feet don’t move in the direction of the gym. Odd. They’d never not marched towards action.
Sam gives him a quizzical look before offering, “I’ll grab some ice. Maybe some water, too. Least I can do, considering that ball was meant for me.”
He casts an almost glowering look over his shoulder as he retreats into the building. Bucky kicks at the mulch and avoids the pair of eyes that watch him from the bench.
“You’ve got anger problems,” she observes almost nonchalantly.
A wood chip flies upon contact with the toe of his sneaker. “Hmph. What makes you say that?”
“The throbbing, basketball-sized welt on my forehead.”
He meets her face then. The tears are now ghosts that haunt him in the form of red eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “About your face.” It’s a nice face, he almost catches himself saying.
She sighs, rubbing at the tender spot in the center of her forehead again. Bucky’s surprised when, after a moment, she begins laughing. Full belly, body shaking laughter.
Fuckin’ Christ. He’s scrambled her brains.
“You sure you don’t wanna see a doctor—?”
“I’m fine,” she says, breathlessly, between fits of laughter. “It’s just that I—I had this date tonight.”
“I had this date, and now my face looks like this,” she gestures to the rapidly forming lump a few spaces about her brows, laughter still interrupting her. “Blind date. Imagine, you’re sitting at the bar, and this,” she gestures again, “walks in.”
He shrugs, careful to tamper down the desire to draw his lips up into a smile. “Sounds like a good ice breaker to me.”
There’s a flash of surprise across her features, and then it’s gone.
“You wouldn’t run the other way?”
Bucky kicks at the ground again, chewing at his lip, before picking up the discarded book. “I mean,” he holds it up, settling down awkwardly next to her on the bench, “I might now, knowing you dog-ear your books.”
She rolls her eyes. He can’t miss the twitching of her lips into something of a playful, if not reluctant, smile.
“Oh, that’s a deal breaker for you?”
“Shouldn’t dog-ear the pages. Ruins the book.”
“Ruins the book? That’s so dramatic.”
“Not dramatic. The truth. The paper gets weak, worn. It’ll rip right off.”
“I’ve never had a dog-eared corner rip off.”
“You’re arguing about this… with a stranger?”
“Bucky,” he offers suddenly, extending his hand.
The metal glints beneath the sun. “I’m Bucky.”
She nods slowly for a moment before reaching out and shaking his hand. He doesn’t recoil from the touch, and when she pulls away, he finds that his palm feels almost impossibly cold despite the heat.
“Nice to have a name to the face of the guy who concussed me.”
Bucky’s about to ask for her name when Sam’s footsteps echo across the court.
“Got an ice cold water bottle and an ice cold ice pack.”
He passes a look between the two benchwarmers as she takes the offerings gratefully. An eyebrow lifts when she rises to her feet, Bucky following suit to place a steadying hand at her elbow, and she begins to dig around in her canvas bag.
“Sure we can’t take you to a hospital?”
She nods. “Got a friend waiting for me at Hopper’s,” she explains, nodding towards the direction of the bookstore Bucky knows to be just a few blocks away. “But I tell you what.” She opens to the dedication page of her novel, scribbling neatly onto the page. “Call me. I’ll forward you my medical bills.”
A soft smile paints her lips—and again, Bucky finds himself in awe that anyone could be so lovely with a goose egg in the center of their face—as she places the book into his hands.
He flips open the cover, finding her name printed in neat, black ink on the page.
After thanking Sam for the water and ice pack, she glances over Bucky one last time before disappearing behind the chain-link fence into the town.
He kicks up a wood chip.
“Only you could manage to nearly knock a girl unconscious and get her number afterwards,” Sam teases, bench creaking with the weight of him settling down. “Lady killer.”
Bucky grins—a toothy sort of grin—for the first time all day.
“You got shit aim.”
Later, over a round of beers, Sam would tease him again. Bucky would roll his eyes and fail horribly at trying to suppress a smile.
“We gotta celebrate,” Sam would joke. “Misery found company today.”
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the bodyguard series
surprise! my first ever series!
summary: you’ve proudly served as the White House chief of staff for the past two years, not only as the first female but the youngest person to serve in that role. You were unstoppable… until you started receiving death threats that even made the President uncomfortable. Now you’re being forced to have protection until your stalker is found. Luckily, the secret service has just retained none other than Special Agent James Barnes to lead your protection team. Agent Barnes has protected people all around the world from London to Moscow. How difficult could protecting the young and beautiful White House chief of staff be? Perhaps it won’t be so bad… or perhaps it might. Join along on the ride of a lifetime with… the bodyguard.
series warnings: 18+ ONLY | angst, fluff, cussing, mentions of violence/threats/stalkers, bodyguard AU, mutual pining, “forbidden” love, and of course smut… (chapters will have their own warnings!)
part one will be up a little later tonight! let me know how excited you are <3 (also let me know if you’d like to be tagged?)
part 1 | the meeting
part 2 | the first day
part 3 | the date
part 4 | the day off
part 5 | the kiss & the regret
part 6 | the realization
part 7 | the betrayal
part 8 | the presidents motorcade
(this is subject to change!)
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Defining Label // Bucky Barnes
Summary: After the battle against Thanos, you end up in the ICU. Bucky by your side because he can’t leave his best girl. Moments in time plaguing his memory from when you’d always been by his side.
Word Count: 6.4k
Author Note: Just something really random and soft for your Sunday night. ￼okay—bye. :)
“I hate to admit it” Steve groaned as he sat next to your hospital bed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You’d think after just saving it, that feeling would’ve diminished. If anything it felt heavier, because it was you. “But she saved my life more times then I can count, I never asked her to, but she was always there.” Bucky focused on the rise and fall of your chest. The steady sound of the heart rate monitor that let him know you were still there. He liked to watch your eyelids flutter, or twitch—he wasn’t exactly sure what to call the way your eyelids would move, all he knew and cared about was that it was a good sign.
Steve watched as Bucky stood beside your bed, a gentle hand softly covering yours. He hoped that you knew they were there. Smirking to himself with an all knowing feeling resonating in the depths ￼of his mind—Steve leaned back on his chair, watched as you slept, for once, regardless of bruises and cut that littered your face like a roadmap of determination and willpower, you were sleeping. A comatose state. It had been a long five years to bring James Buchanan Barnes back along with half the population. Steve had seen you walk through hell. He hated what loosing Bucky had done to you, what lengths you were willing to go, how much he had a hold over you, owned your heart. Steve had sworn that Bucky had taken it with him when he blipped, leaving you with an empty black hole in your chest where it once pumped life into your soul.
“We had an extra vile of pym partials after Tony and I came back.” Steve began explaining. Bucky listened although his eyes never left you. His eyes would concentrate on hour face for a while, only to fall back to the rise and fall of your chest.
You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye—half way across a torn battlefield with Bucky as Tony professed to his beloved Pepper that she had to make sure you’d be okay. Bucky had listened to you scream in agony, physically and emotionally, as he carried you, felt your blood drip into his tactical gear, holding ￼Tony Starks younger sister, the absolute love of his life since the day he met you. Remembering the way you fought so hard beside Steve—all for Bucky.
“This isn’t you!” You screamed, Bucky could remember the way you felt under his arm. Throat being crushed by vibranium. Your back to his chest as you kicked at his shins, panicking. “Your name, is James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky—Bucky listen to me!!” ￼You weren’t given up, Bucky felt you flail under his grip, pulling out a knife he’d dug into your thigh moments before he’d managed to get you into such a compromising￼￼ chokehold—pulling it out with a gasp and gritted teeth, sinking it into the side of Bucky’s hip. His release brought a wave of satisfaction over your body, enough that you were stumbling forward with a pained gasp before spinning around into a roundhouse kick, your heel landing straight against Bucky’s cheek. Sighing as he went down with a thud. Bucky couldn’t do anything but lay there, the cloud cover that fogged his memory slowly fading as he listened through the ringing in his ears. Steve finally making his way to you as you doubled over in pain, trying to catch your breath.
“Fuck you Steve, and fuck the fucking government and fuck me for letting my damn guard down which I will never. do. again.” You hissed, looking down at Bucky as he came to, fighting off the urges the Winter Soldier left behind as Bucky Barnes took over his own consciousness again. ￼”Tony’s gonna be pissed, we gotta get him outta here before Ross has an aneurysm—“ you sighed, spitting blood from your mouth as it dripped from your nose, surely broken from the force of Bucky’s knuckles.
“We?” Steve replied. Watching on as you pushed Bucky’s hair from his face, leaning over him as he gripped at your hand, whispering sorry over and over again. You nodded in response to his apologies, knowing it wasn’t his fault. You turned to Steve as he stepped closer. A hand on your shoulder as you helped Bucky sit up. His head throbbing.
“When have I ever not being on your side?” ￼You gave Steve a soft smile—grinning through the pain. Turning back to Bucky as he still held your hand tight, light your tough was the only thing that mattered—grounding him. Bringing him back to the surface.
“Sorry I stabbed you.” You whipped the blood that dripped from Bucky’s forehead.
“I stabbed you first.” Bucky pained out a chuckle. “I’m so sorry Tess.”
“S’nothing to be sorry about Buck—I know the risks.”
Bucky didn’t even know himself but he knew enough to know that he’d do anything for you. It had broken Tony’s heart when you’d chosen the Manchurian candidate over him. But the difference between you and Tony was he saw Bucky and the Winter Solider he’d been conditioned to be as one person who had choices. You saw Bucky ￼for Bucky—ever since you’d seen the way Steve reached way back when the Winter Solider was still just a ghost story Nat had told you about.
“If you go with them, I never want you coming back do you hear me Tess!?” Tony hissed, spitting blood out onto the gravel, beaten, bloodied and bruised. You stood holding Bucky with your arm wrapped around his waist, his arm draped around shoulders for support. Shield dropped at your feet as Steve watched you turn your back on family for his best friend, for him. “You’re ￼naive, you have no idea what you’ve just done!”
“I know exactly what I’ve just done.” You spoke through heavy breaths, looking down at the brother you swore not three days ago you knew like the back of your hand.
“He kill mum—“
“You hated him before you even knew, don’t act like you wouldn’t go out of your way to find any excuse under the sun to have him locked away in a damn cell Tony!”
“Your blinded by a foolish crush on a man who can’t remember his own name Tess, grow up!” Holding back your own tears you helped Bucky walk, his cybernetic arm half gone. Barley hanging on his was heavy against you. “Don’t come back—don’t you dare come back Tess.” ￼you never did mend things after that. Tony never forgot and you never forgave. Two years passed before you spoke or saw Tony again. Only coming back when Bruce had called.
“I’d stashed them in my suit pocket, after everything with Nat I’d forgotten, but afterwards, after we’d all been down by the lake—I pulled Tess aside and said if she wanted to see you, she could.”
“Steve—“ The fear in Bucky’s voice was prominent, Bucky still didn’t understand the relative concept of time travel, what had you seen him do? What version did you meet? What would you think of him now? “Why did you do that?”
“I told her to go back to 1943, that night we went to the Stark Expo, my god Buck you should’ve seen her face when she came back. She had this big grin from ear to ear and all she kept telling anyone who would give her the time of day how good of a dancer you were.” Bucky chuckled, jealous of his past self. “Tony didn’t have much to say except she should’ve stayed in the past.” Bucky chose to ignore that last part, focusing on the idea of dancing slowly with you. The warm embrace of your spirit. He made a mental note to himself to take you dancing, he’d happily let you step on his toes.
“I think past me definitely set high expectations in that department, kinda haven’t had time to dance in decades.” Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand, pulling the chair towards him so he could sit on the other side of your bed. Resting his head down beside your leg. Hospital bed covers scratching at his cheeks. “I haven’t known her very long, but she’s always done the most for me.” Bucky held back a tear that threatened to spill from his waterline. Sniffling as he sat back up. Steve knew the look in Bucky’s eyes all too well. It was the same was he looked at Peggy through the glass on his own trip back in time.
“You love her Buck, that’s all that matters man.” Steve smirked, staring at Bucky as he shot him a look. Telling him to get lost in a comfortable silence. “It’s complicated, it always will be with you too, Tessas the only person I know who would spend weeks at a time with you in Wakanda.” Steve chuckled to himself. “You love her and there’s no doubt in my mind Tessa loves you back, probably more—I’ve seen lengths she’d go to just to get to you.”
“Tessa—? Bucky’s voice seemed chilled, like he didn’t know what was wrong, what was happening. When you turned to see Bucky fading away you ran towards him, catching the dust he left behind.
“Bucky?” You whispered. Steve coming to stand beside you as your knees dug into the dirt. “Where’d he go Steve where the fuck did he go—BUCKY!? James!?” You felt the panic rising in your chest a tears welled in your eyes. “Steve—“
“I don’t know—“ Steve replied as he fell to his knees beside you, bringing you into his chest as your screamed. Completely loosing yourself. Steve held you tight as he watched others around the two of you fade away. “Tessa—“
“I can’t lose him.” You cried, it pained. You already wanted Bucky back. “I can’t—“
“Kinda feel responsible, you know, maybe if I didn’t—“
“What happened out there happened Buck, there’s nothing more or less you could’ve done.” Steve was quick to shut Bucky down. Stopping him from spiralling into a self loathing mess. It wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t control you, Steve had tried many times before but he’d learnt that if you cared enough about something, somebody, You’d use your own body as a shield to protect them if that’s what you thought necessary. Bucky couldn’t get the sight out of his mind, it kept him awake at night and when he was able to succumb to his body’s need for sleep—it’s what plagued his subconscious.
Bucky saw you dig the sharpened edge of Steve’s broken shield into the chest of one of those bug like aliens that seemed to multiply every time you killed one. He watched you stand with a groan—looking around at the terror and carnage that just seemed to continue no matter how much any of you did. But Bucky knew you wouldn’t give up.
“Stark!” Bucky called out, his gun raised as he shot dead a grovelling alien thing that had snuck up on you as you turned to find where your name had been called from. Seeing Bucky standing there. “Hey—“ He shouted as you rushed him. ￼tears streaming down your face as you ran into him with a thud. Arms wrapping around his waist as you felt him, breathing him in.
“Woah, hey? What’s gotten into you?” Bucky chuckled as his hand cupped the back of your head. “Tess—“
“Five years Barnes, five years you were gone and I know to you it felt like, like five minutes for you, but for me it was decades.” You paused, looking into Bucky’s eyes, the ocean blue you’d missed so much it burned a whole in your chest. A black hole of darkness and despair where your heart used to be, beating for the first time in five years as you cupped Bucky’s scuffed cheeks. “I love you.” Bucky had said it once before, when you’d spent a few weeks in Wakanda, just checking in. You didn’t say it back, Bucky knew you would when you were ready, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be but at least he had told you. You’d lost the love of your life when he was dusted in front of you, you felt him fall through the cracks of your fingers into nothingness and you weren’t going another second without him knowing. “I know it’s not the most appropriate timing, you’ve got your shit and I’ve got mine.” You ran your thumb across Bucky’s lower lip. His hands draping to the side of your waist. “But I just needed you to know—“
“You’re insane.” Bucky chuckled, pulling you closer as he kissed you, deep and dirty. Needy and full of passion. Yours tears streamed down your face, so consumed in Bucky’s presence once again, letting your guard down for him, because of him, willingly. You opened your eyes for a split second to see the spear flying straight for Bucky’s back. Pushing him to the side and down to the ground as you took the full force. Piercing straight through your side. Gasping in pain as your blood ran cold, eyes wide in fear. Feeling the earth shift underneath you as the dirty alien like creatures dusted the same way Bucky had five years ago. Disappearing around you. Falling to your knees as Bucky scurried his way to your side. Holding you tight in his arms.
“Shit—no no no no, hey, you gotta stay with me okay—we’ll get you outta here.” Bucky’s voice broke, he could still taste you on his lips. Breaking the long end of the spear, his gut churning at your screams. “I’ve got you, C’mon—“ guilt already setting in, he shouldn’t have distracted you like that.
“Steve!!” Bucky cried out, rushing over rubble, Steve turned around from where he’d been standing. Tony passed not seconds prior—the light in his chest faded. “We gotta get Tess to a hospital, she’s bad—“
“M’fine.” ￼you groaned, blood dripping from your side into Bucky’s gear. “I’m okay I—“ you lifted your head from Bucky’s shoulder for only a second, you wished you hadn’t. You could see Tony, lifeless. “No, Tony? TONY!!”
“Get her outta here Buck.” Steve gestured, Bucky nodded as he turned around, doing his best to keep you still in his arms to not do any more damage. “Go—“
“TONY!! let me fucking go Barnes, I gotta, I gotta help Tony.” Bucky didn’t have the heart to say what you already knew. Screaming as you tried to fight your way out of his grip. Spear digging further into your side. Bucky’s heart setting on fire.
“Tessa’s a tough one—she’ll pull through.” Steve’s voice cut through Bucky’s playback. His eyes still trained on the rise and fall of your chest. Hand still gripping your softly as his thumb moved gently over your palm.
“Never seen her so mortal before.”
“Think we forget that’s all we are.” Steve sighed as he pushed himself out of the chair he’d been in for a few hours now. “I’m gonna head down the the coffee cart, you want anything?” Bucky just shook his head no in response. Steve accepted, placing his hands into his pockets as he walked out of your room. Bucky eyes followed Steve’s silhouette u til he’d vanished down the hall, coming back to focus on you a short second later. Watching as your head fell softly to the side, turning to face Bucky just a little more.
“Would you consider it rude that he didn’t ask me if I wanted anything?” Your voice was croaky, eyes fluttering open a moment after Bucky caught onto the fact you were waking up—reaching out to press the button for a nurse to come check on you. “Don’t press it, I’m fine, just wanna be here with you.”
“You scared me there for a moment, almost thought I’d lost you.” Bucky kissed the palm of your hand. You wore a smile as he did so. The feeling of his lips pressed longingly against your palm warm and loving. “Can’t do any of this without you—“
“I missed you.” You whispered, barley audible. “So much Buck.” Bucky could see the tears welling in your eyes as he pushed the hair away from your face behind your ear, much like the gesture you always did to him before your tap his cheek.
“I’m not going anywhere.” It had been a few days since the battle. Steve was hoping you’d be awake before the funeral. “I’m sorry about Tony.”
“I’m sure I’ll have the time to process the grief.” You groaned, trying to sit up a little more. Bucky helping to fix your pillow. Pouring you some water, passing it to you. “Real shit show huh? Kinda wish I’d stayed in the past.” You teased, you’d heard Steve tell Bucky about the Pym particles. “Only came back because this guy I met just wouldn’t listen when I told him not to go—tried to bribe him with some really shitty coffee and some amazing cherry pie.”
“Why’d you go back?” Bucky asked softly.
“Because I missed you so much, I just wanted to talk to you.” It was the sadness that laced your voice that broke Bucky’s heart. “You looked younger.” You chuckled. “Sargent James Buchanan Barnes with the 107th regiment.” You tried to hide your smile, your teeth pulling as your bottom lip as Bucky played with your hand. Tracing unidentifiable ￼￼￼￼shapes and objects with his index finger, hiding his blush. “That’s how you introduced yourself you know, god you looked so good in that damn uniform.”
“I took you dancing?” Bucky asked as you nodded. Remembering a moment in time when he’d met a girl, beautiful and bright.
“Sure did, pretty good at it too, took me to some back alley twenty four hour diner afterwards, I tried to get you not to go, some really stupid idea I had, thought if I couldn’t have you in this life I could have you in another, one where you never went to Europe.” You took a sip of your water, sighing as it trickled down your throat. “Half way through our cherry pie I thought I’d almost convinced you to stay, but after we’d finished our coffees, which were awful by the way, you told me if I waited for you, you’d come back to me.” Bucky watched as you placed your cup on the table, whipped your tears that ran over bruised skin. He didn’t at anything—not yet, he just wanted to listen. “I realised in that moment I’d lost two different versions of the man I loved in two different timelines and I couldn’t handle that, I came back just before Bruce put the gauntlet on in such a wreck. Steve tried his best to calm Tony down but I was a goner, kinda glad that it worked because if it didn’t Buck who knows what I would’ve been capable of.”
“I remember waking up in the dirt back in Wakanda and everyone was just so confused. Sam was there—he uh, he helped me up because I couldn’t breathe. I had this really intense pressure just shooting through my chest.” Bucky coughed back a sob as you listened. I remember asking him where you were and he didn’t know either, I just needed you next to me.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. Hand still in yours. Outstretched and resting on your bed. “I know the feeling.” You chuckled. Letting your head rest against your pillow.
“You know goats can climb trees?”
“No they can’t—“ Bucky shrugged you off, watching the small group of goats that had congregated to eat. “Don’t do that, fill my head with falsified information.” You chuckled to yourself, you could already here the wheels of the quinjet touching down in the field behind you. Sam your personal chauffeur out of Wakanda. “When are you planning on coming back?” Bucky asked.
“I’m not sure yet, kinda just going with the flow of things, I’ll be back though.” You beamed at Bucky. “I know you kiss me when I’m gone.” ￼Bucky wasn’t about to deny it. Nodding as he watched the goats enjoy their food.
“That much is true.” ￼Bucky chuckled softly as he brought you in for a one armed hug. Kissing the top of your head gently. “Don’t freak, but I uh—I just need you to know before you go, don’t feel Like you have to say it back or anything but—“
“Bucky?” You stopped him from rambling. Waiting for him to say whatever it was he had to say.
“I love you, I know I’ve got a lot to figure out—but I already know that much.” Bucky swore you’d turned the seven colours of bad shit. But you were just taking in the moment. Enjoying the feeling of being loved.
“If I fall for you Buck.” You sighed, trying to hide the fact you’d already fallen. “I'll never recover, If I fall for you, I'll never be the same.” You kissed his cheeks softly. “I gotta go, I’ll be back, watch your goats, I promise they do climb trees.”
“We’re just a mess aren’t we?” Bucky agreed, laughing along with you. “I think after this we should seek out some hard core therapy—“
“Either that or we’re gonna end up in some prison somewhere in Guatemala￼.” Bucky could listen to your laugh all day if you’d let him. The smile it brought to the surface, not a lot of things could do that. But you were always someone that could make Bucky remember why life was worth living, worth fighting for—you were always his biggest reason to fight. “Whatever you wanna do Stark I’m down, I’ll follow you anywhere you wanna go, as long as you’re by my side.”
“You think a relationship is something either of us should be jumping into right now?” You asked softly, sighing because time was never in your side. “I love the shit outta you Buck but that’s probably the dumbest idea that’s ever popped into your cyborg brain.” You chuckled. Bucky looked away for a moment, seeing Steve in the window of your room, not wanting to interject or interrupt an obviously intimate moment. ￼￼￼
“Never said anything about a relationship, just wanna go wherever you are.” Bucky admitted, he knew better then most he couldn’t let you love him the way he so desperately wanted you too. “But I do love you, everything about you has always driven me crazy and you’ve always been the first person to fight for me, you’ve taken bullets and punches and fucking spears for me—“
“Kinda sounds like your flirting with me?” You interrupted, smirking as Bucky once again brought your hand to his lips. Leaning forward as his elbows balances on his knees. Softly kissing the back of your hand. “Are you flirting with me Barnes, kinda bad at it if you are.” He wasn’t, he was always so good at it. You just liked to tease Bucky whenever you could, he always reacted to it like it was the first time someone was giving him attention. Bucky looked you dead in the eye, his entire demeanour changing as he got serious.
“I think I’ve been flirting with the same girl since 1943, I remember taking this girl dancing once.” Bucky was trying his best to remember, bits and pieces coming back to him that resembled what you’d shared with him. “She’d kinda hijacked a date I was on, just by sheer coincidence I guess.” Bucky chuckled to himself as he shook his head, a grin on his face. “We danced ￼￼￼￼and shared some bomb ass cherry pie with—shitty coffee that was a-bit of a buzz kill, but she said she’d wait for me, after she’d tried to convince me not to leave, Kinda hoping after all this time she kept her promise?” It took you a moment to realise Bucky had been talking about the same date you had. How was it possible? You’d never know, maybe in the twisted nature of it all you were always destined to go back, maybe it was always meant to end with you and Bucky in that diner.
“What’s another decade.” You chuckled. Bucky stood, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Always gonna be you Barnes.”
“Always gonna be you.” Bucky whispered back. “Never for a moment will it not be you.”
You pushed your way past the people who blocked the elevator doors, mumbling ‘move’ and ‘get out of the way’ rushing, but also not really, towards the therapy session Bucky had so kindly asked you to attend. He said he’d seen you showing signs of a spiral recently. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, you thought it was kind of him to care enough about your well-being that he wanted you to join in on his therapy session. Only agreeing because the way his lips felt on yours was simply magical.
“Sorry! Sorry I’m late!” You burst through Doctor Raynor’s door, Bucky was already sitting in the middle of the couch, moving over slightly as you sat with a huff. Passing him over the pink box and plastic fork. Bucky beamed. Opening the box as his mouth salivated—a slice of cherry pie. “I’m here, I got stuck in traffic.”
“That’s horse shit Tess.”
“Ahh—you got me, just kinda don’t wanna be here doc.” You kicked your shoes off, taking a fork full of pie to your mouth as you laid your head into Bucky’s lap. “Hey Sarge.” You quipped, Bucky smirked down at you.
“Gotta stop calling me that.” He whispered softly. Stealing some of your slice of cherry pie. A gasp leaving your mouth, the absolute audacity.
“Tessa, this is court mandated therapy.”
“For him!” You pointed up at Bucky. He smacked your hand away from his face softly. “Im only here for moral support and snacks, you wanna bite?” ￼￼
“I think I’ll be right.” Doctor Raynor continued. “James, where were we?”
“We were talking about how you think it’s insane Tessa and I just won’t define a relationship.” You looked up at Bucky as you swallowed your mouthful. He’d cut his hair recently, you’d admit it, you missed the long brown locks, the strains that you could tug on and be met with a sharp hiss from Bucky’s mouth. Sensually riding him for hours as you teased and tugged in the brown locks that flowed so easily. But Bucky needed a change, to turn a new leaf. You’d helped him cut it one afternoon as you shared a block of chocolate and paired it with the salty taste of sea salt chips.
“We aren’t in a relationship?” You questioned, your eyebrows frowned with cautiousness and Curiosity.
“I know that, Doc doesn’t understand why not.” Bucky chuckled. You smiled up at him as he brought a piece of pie down into your mouth—teeth gliding against his fork.
“Look at you two, I can’t for the life of me understand why you two won’t just take the leap and commit to a title, James.” ￼￼Doctor Raynor sighed as she picked up her notepad. “Relationships are important for you to establish, it builds foundation—“
“If I may Christina.” You interrupted. “Barnes and I go way back, like 1943 way back—I think to say the foundation’s are laid is pretty overstated.”
“You two share a home together? Is that right?” Bucky nodded. You groaned. “You share a bed together, you live and breathe and do everything together.”
“It’s our co-dependence.” Bucky quipped, looking down as you pulled a face at him, rolling your eyes because all you wanted to do was go to the beach and fry your skin cells. Feel the heat from the sun cook you alive. “You see doc, Tessas trauma is some how all my fault. I left her in a diner because I wanted to go fight for my country, I killed her parents and somehow managed to convince her I was worth saving so that in turn completely shattered whatever fragile relationship was still standing with her brother.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders. You clicked.
“Yeah what he said.” Agreeing with Bucky. “I’m in love with the man responsible for my broken relationship with my brother because he killed my parents, I spent a pretty good chunk of my life either fighting for him or with him, then, he blipped which ultimately ended up with me going back in time because I couldn’t breathe without him, but he ended up leaving again. Kinda hard to commit to a relationship when that’s all just floating around all unresolved and just existing isn’t it?” Doctor Raynor rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Essentially what you’ve both just said is that being together, officially that is, would kill you just as much as being separated would kill you.” ￼￼
“I wasn’t under the impression this was couples therapy—“ you hissed at Christina. “Look, you wanna definitive label?” You snapped, sitting upright, looking at Bucky as he looked back at you. The absolute love of your life. “We’ve always been a mess Doc, this?” You pointed back and forth between you and Bucky. “It has never been as simple as a one word label, boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, spouse—we don’t fit the mould.” You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair. “I love Buck—he knows I’d take a bullet for him because I have and I never hesitate when it comes to him, he’s my person and the love of my life. I wanna spend the rest of my life with him but I can’t fit that on a damn label.”
“Why can’t you?” Doctor Raynor pressed, aggravating you to no end. She was forcing you to say it, she wanted you to be honest with yourself and say it out loud. God you wanted to just run out of the room right now, leave Bucky behind to seek out his own therapy. But you didn’t, not with the way he was looking at you.
“Because everyone I’ve ever definitively labeled has left me, my brother, my parents, Steve—before the blip, I told Bucky he was my best friend—I watched him disappear, i don’t want him to disappear again, I watched him turn to dust after I said he was my best friend, god he’d probably spontaneously combust if I said fuck it and referred to Bucky as my significant other, that’s the way my world works.” The air was thicker then you remembered. Suddenly overcome with emotions so deep it made you feel sick to your stomach. Bucky hadn’t realised your response had brought him back to when you’d been a character witness for him during his pardon, pissing off the panel that sat on Capital Hill￼—Buck swore without you his case would’ve been dropped.
“Miss Stark?” You were staring down at the statement you’d prepared, hands crumpling at the paper. “Miss Stark are you with us?”
“Sorry I uh—“ you could feel the panic rising in your chest as hundreds of people waited to hear you testify on Bucky’s behalf, you focused on him, Bucky sent you a soft reassuring smile because he knew no matter what as long as you were on his side he’d be okay. “James Buchanan Barnes has been known by the world as the Winter Solider for far too long.” You started, crumbling your prepared speech and tossing it to the side. “I’ve only ever known his as Bucky.”
“￼Sargent Barnes was a prisoner of war, he’s the only person I know to date that has a serum causing ￼￼through his veins he didn’t ask for—even Steven Rogers volunteered.” It was the way Bucky looked at you with so much love and admiration in his eyes that kept you going. Never for a moment looking anywhere else but in his direction, blocking out the rest of the world. “The things he’d done as the Winter Solider, the things he was forced to do by people who saw him as nothing but an asset they could freeze and control whatever they please, he shouldn’t be held accountable for. He remembers everything single one of them, I know that for a fact. The Winter Solider took my mother and fathers way from my brother and I—I don’t blame the man sitting before me today, he’s a victim too. He was forced to do the most unimaginable things while the governments of the world did nothing.” You couldn’t help but to scoff. “All you wanted to do was lock him away, forget that he was trapped inside his own mind for decades.” Your voice was laced with anger, venom dripping from your tongue as you stood and turned to face the panel that would determine Bucky future.
“You branded Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, James Barnes and myself as enemies of the state, fuck you guys.” The room filled with gasps and horrified looks, all Bucky could do was hide with laugh—looking over at Sam who sat with Rhodes. Absolutely stunned. “You wanna lock Barnes up behind bars? I dare you—see how far you get.”
“Is that a threat Miss Stark.”
“It won’t have to be if you’re decent enough people to see that Bucky’s just as much a victim as any of the people he unfortunately crossed paths with.”
“James? How does that make you feel?” Christina looked at Bucky, his eyes welling with tears as he pulled you closer, his arm around your shoulders as he kissed your cheeks softly.
“Labels don’t matter, not when you’ve been the best constant in my life. I love you, so much.” Bucky chuckled. “I never thought I’d be capable of that let alone having someone as kind and caring as you love me back.” Bucky’s coughed out a small sigh. “We’ve got a lot of shit to work through doc, I think putting a label on this isn’t the biggest issue right now.” Bucky had planned this session, it didn’t turn out exactly the way he thought it would. But nevertheless, he appreciated your honesty, your response.
“Every time I see that therapist of yours I feel like I need to wash my mouth out with soup.” Bucky chuckled as he followed you through the threshold of the home you shared together. “It’s like she makes it a mission to get into all the little groves I try plaster over with gum and willpower.”
“That’s kinda her job Tess.” Bucky chuckled to himself, throwing his keys down onto the kitchen bench. “You know it’s probably a good thing right? Therapy as shitty as it can be actually kinda helps.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re no long the Winter Solider, you are James Bucky Barnes and it’s apart of your efforts to make amends—“ you quipped at Bucky. Reciting the small but powerful sentence you’d caught Bucky saying to himself in the mirror on a couple of occasions. “What we have is good right?” You asked softly. Expecting Bucky to answer straight away. The silence lingering linger then you’d like it to. Turning around as you undid the back of your earring to see Bucky holding a small box in his hand. A ring box, throwing it up and catching it so casually. “Right?”
“It’s great.” Bucky began, his eyes soft as he sauntered closer to you. Still throwing the box up and catching it. “What we have Tess? I wouldn’t trade it for anything, for anyone. But lately? I’ve been thinking about you and me and just—I gotta admit it, putting a label on you and me? The only label I’d ever wanna know you as besides being my best friend is my wife.”
“I know we still have a lot to figure out, we should still keep going to therapy, just having you in my is enough for me, but I uh—I got this for you.” Bucky dropped slowly to his knee, opening the box that held the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. You fell to your knees in awe. Cupping Bucky’s cheeks as he continued, tears in your eyes, a mix between joy and excitement, by laced with fear. “Sam helped me customise it, said you told him once that diamonds terrified you.”
“Do I smell.” Sam sniffed dramatically. “Wedding bells?” Sam teased as you buckled yourself into the seat next to him, he’d watched you kiss Bucky’s cheeks before heading towards the jet. You groaned in response.
“One, no you don’t and two, Diamonds ￼are terrifying things, they’re overrated and ooze overbearing commitment, can’t stand em.” Sam for some reason or another committed that very moment to his Rolodex of memories. Saved it for a rainy day. He was glade he did when he tagged along with Bucky ring shopping.
“So I thought emeralds? But then I thought maybe rubies because cherry pie—“ you cut Bucky off mid sentence with a kiss. Smashing your lips together with his as he fell backwards, bringing you down with him with a thud.
“You don’t have to say yes, I just wanted you to know that it’s here and that I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky finished, pushing your hair from your face as you straddled his waist.
“What if I say yes and you spontaneously combust?”
“I won’t.” Bucky reassured you, he could feel you trembling above him. Scared to accept that maybe just this once a label wouldn’t end in death or defiance. “I won’t leave you, not now, not ever.” Bucky slid the ring over your finger as you chocked back a sob. Looking into Bucky’s swirling pools of ocean blue that took in the sight of you. The best part of him. “It looks good on you—“
“Tessa Barnes huh?” You fell in love with the idea. “Sounds pretty catchy.”
“Is that you saying yes?” Bucky beamed, bringing you down closer to his face as you nodded, his lips attaching themselves to yours softly. “Will you marry me?” Bucky whispered into your mouth as his tongue explored your mouth, yours doing the same. “Will you Tessa Stark, my best friend, my person, the love of my life, my partner, my saving grace, my significant other, my other half, my best girl—Will you marry me?” Bucky counted off all the things you were to him, still beneath you after they were all said allowed. You nodded. Smirking against Bucky as he beamed back at you. Going against everything you’d told yourself would surely happen if you ever labeled anything ever again. Taking a leap of faith and trusting in Bucky—you’d lived without him before, it broke your spirit, it took your light, your happiness, your ability to see the good in things. Praying to whatever God would hear you that just this once things would turn out okay.
“Yes.” You whispered back. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
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I'm Yellin' Timber | Bucky Barnes x Reader
| Song: Timber By Pitball ft. Ke$ha
| Word Count: 1.3k
| Summary: Bucky would go anywhere you asked him to, and tonight that mean't going to a bar with you. (So ya know, he can say he's been there, done that.)
| Warning(s): Singing, dancing, pure fluff, jealously... love is in the air.
A/N: I squealed at my own fic, I thought this was so cute. I'm such a loser bahaha. Anyways I hope you like it! :)) I always appreciate the comments, likes & reblogs, it makes my day.
All Likes, comments are reblogs are really appreciated :))
"Doll, you know I don't like this sort of stuff", Bucky softly spoke while you were pulling him along the almost full parking lot.
"I said for you to trust me, Buck" you rolled your eyes, quickly walking into the lively bar. There was already a bright smile across your face; the place you had just walked into was buoyant, people laughing, dancing, enjoying their time.
Bucky's eyes explored around the place; his first instinct was to search for potential threats. You knew what he was doing when Bucky's hand tensed in yours. You had stopped walking, turning around to face him with your hand still in his "Bucky, you're doing that thing", you sternly warned him.
When he wouldn't look at you, you rested a hand upon his face, directing his gaze towards you, giving him a soft smile. "We're okay. Nothing will hurt me or you or anyone around here; it's just me, you, and all these happy people", you chuckled.
He wouldn't dare to say no to you, so it was no surprise that when you asked him if he wanted to come somewhere with you tonight, he said yes. Bucky followed your lead; he would go anywhere with you if you asked him. And tonight, that meant going to a strange bar that he had only seen a handful of times back in the 40s.
Taking him straight to the bar, you smiled upon seeing your favourite bartender, "Hey Charlie! Two of the usuals, please", you sweetly asked, returning a smile. Charlie nodded "hey Y/n! Of course, coming right up" Bucky stared at the male bartender you were talking to moments ago.
"Reeeelax Buck, he is a friend" you smiled. You could see the slight jealously playing on his face, and by the way, his hand was slowly tightening around yours. "You seem to come here a lot to know his name", Bucky lowly spoke. You gave Bucky a disappointed look which he clearly saw.
"James Bucky Barnes", you yelled through the bustling noise. You took his face into your hands, pulling him close to yours. "My eyes are for one man and one man only" beaming you softly pecked his lips. "And if anyone tries anything on me, I'll gladly send em' your way, handsome," you whispered into his ear, teasing him.
"Here you are, two of your usuals", Charlie spoke, handing the two glasses of hard liquor over to you. "Thanks, Charlie! By the way, this is Bucky!" You exclaimed. Charlie turned to Bucky and gave a polite smile before extending his hands out to meet Bucky's, "It's finally good to meet you, Bucky" he smiled.
"Y/n raves on and on about you, I was starting to think you weren't real", he laughed, which caused Bucky to cackle at the comment too. "Anyways, ya'll have a good night", Charlie commented before serving other customers.
"C'mon Buck, let's go grab a table", you smiled back at him. Taking his hand into yours again, you led him to a small booth. Scooting in, you made enough space for Bucky to sit next to you.
Looking around the bar, Bucky knew exactly why you came here so often. It was full of joy, music and happy people. Something you very much enjoyed. You were here almost every weekend or after every big mission you went on. He wondered how he ever got lucky with you; you were a literal ray of sunshine, and Bucky was the polar opposite, or so he thought.
Jamming to the music, you took sips of your drink, as did Bucky. "We are going to dance tonight, Buck", you happily exclaimed. Watched as his face displayed doubt; you knew he wasn't keen on that idea which made you laugh. "I promise you, you will not care once we are on the dance floor", you said, resting your head on his shoulder. He took a deep breath in, downing the last of his drink. "Alright, let's go" he smiled at you.
Your confusion as he took your hand, leading you out onto the dance floor, it took you by surprise and to be fair, you loved it. You took both of Bucky's hands and dragged him closer into the middle of the dance floor. You wanted to be in the middle of the action, and you knew that it would loosen up how tense Bucky was.
It's going down. I'm yelling timber… You better move. You better dance.
Smiling as one of your favourite dance songs began to play. Looking at Bucky, you started singing along with the song. "Let's make a night; you won't remember" you closed your eyes feeling the song "I'll be the one, you won't forget." Your body moved smoothly around Bucky, enjoying the rhythm of the music.
"C'mon Buck, follow my lead" you held his waist, swaying side to side. He laughed lightly before letting his eyes roam your body. He was focused on syncing his moves with yours. "That's it, Buck!" You smiled, laughing at how fun this was; Bucky was getting into the mood. The music sang loudly while everyone was dancing around the pair of you.
"Swing your partner round and round" Bucky took one of your hands, twirling you around; you giggled, twirling underneath his arm. The energy was there, and both you and Bucky were enjoying it. "End of the night, it's going down… One more shot, another round… End of the night, it's going down," the music continued.
On your tippy-toes, you held one of Bucky's hands, yelling, "It's your turn! Swing your partner round and round." He laughed and gladly twirling around, bending down a little to get under your arm. His hands rested back at your hips, both of you looking at each other, you swayed side to side together.
Then without warning, you started to sing along again, "It's going down, I'm yelling timber", you pointed at Bucky. "You better move; you better dance." Bucky had heard this song before, and honestly, it wasn't hard to remember the words, so he sang along with you.
He directed his attention to you, "Let's make a night, you won't remember… I'll be the one, you won't forget." him saying those words to you made you feel special, and Bucky really meant those words, he wanted this to be a night he'd never forget. "It's going down, I'm yelling timber", you sang, your back against his chest; he had his hands snug around your waist.
You better move, you better dance… Let's make a night you won't remember.
Your head turned slightly, and you sang again, "I'll be the one you won't forget", you giggled before slowly turning back. Slowly you lowered your body down to the ground. Shaking your ass and Bucky indeed found that hot. His hands gliding down your body as you slowly dancing back up to meet his gaze. God, he loved you, and this was another reason to add to his long list of why he did. You brought the life out of him; you made him feel young.
"'cause it's about to go down", the crowd sang in unison. "Swing your partner round and round", and so Bucky did. Twirling you around again, he swung his partner around with love. Looking at Bucky, your smile was growing. "End of the night, it's going down", you pointed at him to sing the next part, "One more shot, another round", "End of the night, it's going down". Taking turns, you happily sang the song with each other. Bucky's hands resting on your behind as you gently sway.
"Thank you for bringing me here, doll", he smiled at you. Cupping his cheek, you leaned in to kiss his lips passionately. Splitting from the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours. "See, look how much fun we're having, love!" he smiled. "I love you so daym much, doll." the soft smile on your face, "I love you too, Buck."
For the rest of the song, you spent it cuddling him with your head on his chest. Dancing around in the same shot, you were in each other's embrace.
"I'll be the one you won't forget".
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I’m Not Doing A Thing Tonight
Something about a nightout, holding back on a few things, a stupid bet and a point to prove.
Word count: 1.9K
Warnings: Nothing really. A few sexual innuendos. Drinking. Mentions of drugs. Grumpy!Bucky. Flirty!Bucky. Lovestruck!Bucky. Practical!Bucky. Making-out-on-a-dance-floor!Bucky. Flashbacks in italics.
I do not give anybody permission to translate, reblog or repost my work on any other third party site or blog.
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The nerve of some people.
The absolute nerve. It's like some people liked to gamble with the manacles of death.
Like Bucky Barnes for instance.
The idiot really knew how to get on your nerves. He did this all the damn time, with that stupid smirk plastered over his stupid ass face which you could do everything to wipe off, that not-so-subtle whirring of his metal arm which he did whenever you were around. At this point all his hairline should be six inches higher with how many times he had run his fingers through it, and you should be curling up on the floor with alcohol poisoning with all the shots you had chugged back.
The girl on his arm giggled loudly at something which he said, something standoffish yet funny if you were an nth person having nothing to do with the conversation, and you knew.
Look at how comfortable she is in his personal space. Might as well start slithering on him.
You knew he was not snapping at her to leave him alone yet because having her on him meant you would be hovering close by, ready to pounce and sink your teeth into the flesh before someone even went for a taste.
"I'm all for you babe." He said, lips hovering over yours.
"You're gonna forget this in the morning, man" you had chuckled, ignoring the sharp spike of your heartbeat, steadying him and letting him plop down to the couch outside the club entrance.
"Till then you can love me?"
"Nope. I don't do love."
"Go and get him, girl. You wouldn't like taking used goods would you?" Sam Wilson, presumably high as a kite, whispered-shouted next to you, giggling when you jumped and narrowed your eyes at him.
" I'm not doing a thing tonight." Your words were dry, tasting like false art before they slipped past your lips, accentuated by the graceless snort passing Sam's lips.
"Sure. And I am a ballerina."
You chuckled loudly, clapping your hands together and forcing your mouth shut when the woman next to you shot you a dirty look. Wilson sure knew how to get funny when you needed it. You pulled up another shot, only to have it snatched by him. You rolled your eyes at him as he tossed the burning liquid down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing and face twisting in a grimace.
"You won't believe me!" Sam shouted, raising on his tiptoes and flailing his arms in a slowed coordination with the beat. "I feel lighter. I can be a ballerina!”
"Shh Wilson. Please, let me live in peace."
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Bucky staring at you, sparkles of humor simmering in his eyes at Sam, a little bit of sass definitely bubbling in his head.Told ya. You wished you could march up there and straddle him so you could make your point, but wasn't that what you were doing here? Making a point?
"You know, If you’d have me, I'd love you more than you love your pizza."
"Not possible, Barnes."
"Fine then, at least kiss me goodbye."
"Nope." And you smirked in victory, pulling him by the neckline of his henley, smashing your lips together and pushing him to his room. "I will fuck you goodbye."
But Sam was on a roll about how he was convinced the protagonist in that show you were binge watching was in fact an antagonist who didn’t know what shit he was splewing, Steve was out of sight, which was surprising because six-feet three blocks of muscles should not be allowed to dissolve in a crowd and Bucky was holding the attention of every woman in this goddamn party. A lot of men too. Which was seriously undesirable for you because well -fuck that stupid bet- you want to kiss his stupid face.
The girl was now sliding her hands down Bucky's arm, and you stiffened, ready to pounce, only relaxing because Bucky pried her hands away, firmly, stepping back and patting the back of one of his friends to totally pull himself out of the conversation, heading towards another side of the area. You found yourself grinning. That was so Bucky. No drama. Just common sense.
Making stupid bets and not being able to dish it.
He found Steve immediately, and you couldn't help the frown because he was just there and your eyes must have brushed over his figure at least twice. All this while you had to endure a high Sam spoiling your new fave show because you had selective attention. Great.
You rolled your eyes at Bucky, prying away the glass which Sam had snatched from a random stranger. You apologized, handing the man his drink which he rolled his eyes at and ignored. Sam chuckled. You forced yourself not to roll on in his laughter, and bit back the urge to slap him upside down his head because Wilson was a sweetheart and had endured worse from you when you were drunk. You carefully pulled at his arm, asking him to follow you -politely- all the while he snickered and called you a lost lovebird.
"You and Bucky make me sick. You kiss him, I throw up." He belched loudly. "You don't kiss him, I die of the tension."
"What is even your deal?" You asked, half amused and half exasperated because -another girl is trying to feel up your man.
"I love you." You were next to him on the bonnet of your car, ice-cream cone halfway finished as he watched the sunset. Your heart was on your throat at your confession, the hints of a smile playing at the corner of his lips, the golden light catching his eyelashes and their shadows flickering prettily over his cheekbones.
"You don't do love."
"I made an exception. Won't happen again." Your words were soft, a vein of a tremor underneath the makeshift steadiness because this was so new and so scary.
Bucky was in front of you before you could finish your bite, eyes brighter than the sun-kissed ocean waters and holding too much of everything all at once.
"God for you, because I am already yours."
"Hey guys, why don't you help me help him," you yelled at your boyfriend and his boyfriend, aka best friend, moving out of the way when Sam tipped to the side, smashing into a waiter and spilling his entire tray of champagne. Red liquid spilled over the floor, Bucky huffing and looking at the ceiling, the corners of his lips in an adorable tilt. You barely managed to hold in your peals of laughter while Steve -dad-of-too-many-grown-children- started apologizing, volunteering to pay the tab for the damage. And drag Sam out.
"You are not even gonna ask if I completed the bet." You whined at Steve, taking another step away from Bucky, whining some more when he swiped his tongue over his lips, a casual smirk over his face. That goddam lady magnet look which he had pulled up for the night.
"I saw you."
"And?" You asked, hobbling a little on your heels but managing to balance gracelessly.
"Conclusion." Sam suddenly yelled, stopping you three in your tracks to the exit of the club. "Let the fern wrap around the trunk. Set little trunk free. You are a free elf! Get your mannnnn…" he started with the tempo of a rap song, ending it like a slow ballad which had you squeezing your eyes shut as second-hand embarrassment filled you.
If people see Captain America like this, you are all gonna be super fucked.
But then the carefree smiles on these three’s faces would make it worth it. Maybe you would make out with Bucky too, all teeth and tongue and skin, especially if this made it into the trending tags. You had had enough of people trying to get on his soft side.
"Who even got you drunk?" Bucky scoffed, nodding at Steve who was grumbling about how much fun the ride home would be.
"Your girlfriend. Spank her for this tonight."
Bucky glared at Sam, clicking his tongue and licking his lips before he gave you a fleeting look. From what you could deduce in the split second that he had swept his eyes your way, he would be gladly doing it. Just not because Sam said so.
"My girlfriend," he started, holding his vibranium arm out for you. You obliged, touching him for the first time in all day and letting him haul you to his side, finally pressing into his warmth. "Unlike you, knows how to handle her shots."
Your face burned.
I hope you burn in hell for this. After you spank me though. Take your time.
"You- YOU." Both Steve and Sam spoke at once, attracting the attention of too many club bouncers and girls and guys alike. "You just lost the bet. Pay up."
"The hell I will. Take your sloshed ass home and sleep it off." Bucky grumbled, flipping them off and pulling you along deeper into the club. Somewhere in the back of your head you heard Steve and Sam's grumps of protest and a group of people yelling 'Body shots!", and “Captain America’s, look at me! I’m smexy!” all while your adorable boyfriend led you through the crowds straight to the dance floor.
"Finally." He grumbled, placing his hands on your waist but you cut him through it, pulling him by the lapels of his jacket and crashing your lips on his. His mouth hot on yours, you dragged your tongue lithely along the plush of his lower lip, nibbling at the tip of his tongue before letting it slide into your mouth and dominate the kiss. His metal hand cupped the back of your neck, sliding the fingertips into your roots as he roped its pair around your waist, making out fiercely against the beats. Perfect.
"Never make such bets again," he grumped, kissing the words at the tip of your tongue all the while grinding against you. The song changed to a risque beat, slowed down and sensual which had you pushing at his pecs till he parted away hesitantly, looking down at you from his lashes, frown over his perfect lips.
"I had to make a point."
Metal fingers absently caressing your jaw curled into a determined grasp over your chin, tilting your head and pulling you upwards till you were barely on your tiptoes, lips hovering right under his.
He was practically carrying you with the strength of three fingers.
"That you can live without touching me?" He growled, all the twinkling of his eyes replaced by dense waves of lust. "No no baby, not gonna work."
He pushed away a little, slightly amused and a little phased by the mischievous grin on your face because that meant you were trying something. He flicked his eyes in different directions, head working in a million directions so you wouldn't catch him off guard with whatever you were doing.
You bit your lip, allowing Bucky to cup your ass through your jeans before metal fingers were tugging the lip free, bending down and catching it between his teeth. His alcohol laced breath danced over your face, the fingers over your jaw tightening and puckering your pout. He let go of your lip, letting it snap back in place, swollen and stinging and slicked with his and your spit. Immediately swiping his metal fingers over the curvature before he was biting your lips again, the hot and cold sensations fucking up your head. Fuck.
"Body shots?" You asked softly, pupils blown out and hair disheveled as he got that shit-eating smirk back on his face. "Gotta make another point to the one hundred girls and guys in here."
Bucky laughed, tongue swiping his lips as he looked away with a light chuckle, pulling you closer and lacing your fingers together.
"I'm all yours babe."
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a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!
wc: 4.1k words
[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]
Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.
Notice how you said night?
Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.
And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?
(Great choice on your part, by the way.)
Well, because of your neighbor.
You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.
But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.
But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.
Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.
You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.
But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.
The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.
You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.
But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.
"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.
"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.
It was him.
"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,
"Keep the change."
"Thanks, and your name?"
He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'
"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.
That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.
As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.
You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.
"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.
"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."
"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.
"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.
"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"
"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.
"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.
You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.
"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.
He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.
For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.
Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.
"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.
"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.
"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.
"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.
"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.
He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.
"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.
You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.
"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.
As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.
The girl who works at this café is annoying.
But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.
He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.
But it was a nice gesture.
Why can't you just take a nice gesture?
Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.
He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.
You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.
Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.
Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.
He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.
But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.
He hates how lonely it gets, though.
Bucky wishes that he had someone.
Someone who could understand.
And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.
Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.
But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.
But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'
Or that's what his therapist says.
"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.
He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.
Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.
He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.
Who he was.
"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.
"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."
"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.
You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.
Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.
Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.
He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.
Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?
But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.
All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.
But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.
He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.
Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.
He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.
Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.
Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.
But there was no one.
And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.
Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.
But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.
For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.
He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.
For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.
There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.
Well, in your own apartment, of course.
And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.
As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.
He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.
You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.
After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.
He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.
But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.
Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.
You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.
You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.
As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.
The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.
You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.
You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.
You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.
You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.
You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.
"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.
"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.
You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.
He seems to have this issue quite often.
Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.
Well, nothing you did on purpose.
Nothing you were aware of at the time.
Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.
"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.
"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.
"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.
"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.
"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.
"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.
The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.
As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.
He was attractive, you'll admit.
Okay, he was more than attractive.
"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.
"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.
"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.
"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.
"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.
"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.
"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.
"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.
"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.
"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.
"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.
"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.
"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.
"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."
"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.
You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.
"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.
"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.
"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.
"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.
"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."
Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.
"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."
You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.
He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.
You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.
"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.
six months later
You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.
"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.
"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.
"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.
"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."
Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.
"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.
"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.
"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."
You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.
"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.
"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.
A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.
"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.
You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.
"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.
"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.
"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.
"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.
"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."
fin. i hope you enjoyed!
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Nothing Personal: Chapter 8
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader (enemies to lovers)
Prompt: Bucky’s public appearance was lacking in the… well, everything department. And now, with him fully being in the public eye as the new Captain America’s right hand man, that needed to be fixed. That brought you into the equation, someone who seemed to be the direct opposite of the White Wolf. Bubbly, friendly, the perfect PR girlfriend for the grumpy man. Whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Summary: Time makes the heart grow fonder, at least that’s what they say. You thought you’d finally let go, but the world likes to keep you on your toes
Warnings: mostly angst, some fluff, language, mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking
A/N: Holy cow guys! It’s the last chapter! We’ve made it! But don’t worry, I’ll also be posting an epilogue and I can always do drabbles for these guys! As always, my taglists, messages, and inbox are open!
Catch up here!
Two years is a long time.
Two whole years had gone by, two Christmases, two birthdays, two Halloweens. The third year was creeping up, whizzing past New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s day.
Time seemed to slow down, though, on March 10, 2028. Truly, time basically screeched to a halt for the past two March 10′s, but for some reason, it was more noticeable this time around.
Maybe it was because you realized that it had been three whole years now since you’d met Bucky. Maybe it was because he was now 111, one of your lucky numbers. Maybe it was because you thought back to that party you threw him for his 108th, how he told you all that time ago that he never wanted you.
Nevertheless, your mind was flooded with ideas of what you would’ve gotten him for his birthday. A new pair of combat boots, a nice homemade dinner and dessert, a day off from all the craziness in his life.
Maybe just a hug would’ve been enough for him.
During that first year, when you weren’t engulfed in your thoughts of Bucky, you were actively searching for work. It was hard getting a job when you moved back down to Louisiana. Being the ex-girlfriend of an American hero isn’t really good publicity.
Luckily, the only people who didn't care about your relationship status were kids, so you got a job at the local elementary school as a teaching assistant.
It was nice. The kids were cute, the job just covered your rent, and you got free lunch. It was... peaceful.
Well, it was peaceful until you’d reach the World War II section in history and you’d have to stare down at photos of the Howling Commandos, of Bucky Barnes himself. Obviously, the kids weren’t oblivious to news. They’d see Bucky’s face and make the connection, and once they did, the questions about him were endless. Of course, they were harmless and pretty cute if you were being honest, but it still stung.
The most common question was about what he was like, and it was a hard question for you to answer. You didn’t know what he was like. To others, he was kind and playful but still stoic. He was like that with you a few times. But mostly, all you saw of him was cold, distant, and reserved. But the kids didn’t want to hear that.
“He was a brave man, and he cared a lot about the people he loved,” you’d tell them with a smile, and after a while, it felt true.
Other than the few rare days that stood out for one reason or another, every other day blurred together until it had finally reached the Fourth of July.
Sam, Mr. Captain America himself, had it in his mind that he had some patriotic duty to take upon himself. thus he decided to hold a large event at the docks, complete with food and fireworks, and of course, photo ops with Captain America and the Winter Soldier.
You stared at the flyer that sat on the top of the pile you were holding. Winter Soldier.
“You’ve got a stink face goin’ on,” Sam teased, nudging your shoulder. He stared down at the flyers, sighing. “Listen, I don’t want him anywhere near you, but it’s for the family business. And besides, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“White Wolf,” you spoke, looking up at Sam.
“I remember Bucky telling you once that he preferred White Wolf over the Winter Soldier. But these flyers say Winter Soldier.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, he screwed you over and you’re making sure he gets called what he’s comfortable with?”
You shrugged. “Just forget I said anything.” You grabbed the tape gun from Sam’s hands and began to rip off a few pieces.
“Hey, hey, slow down.” He took the flyers and the tape gun from your hands. “You’re right. We’ll go and fix them.”
You gave him a nod, a small smile quirking on your lips.
Organizing a party was hard enough as it is. Having to organize a party for hundreds of people while having the fear of seeing Bucky once more looming over you? Nearly impossible.
You sat on Sarah’s couch, your head in your hands as you tried to physically soothe your migraine. “Tell me again why we have to do fireworks?” you grumbled.
“Because they’re fun!” AJ piped up, earning a hum of agreement from Sam.
“And expensive! And dangerous! Did y’all forget that we’re doing this on a wooden dock?”
“Oh come on, Y/N, get into the spirit!” Sam whined, shoving your shoulder.
“God, you’re obnoxious.” You leaned back on the couch. “You do understand that this is in 2 days, right? I have no idea where we’re gonna get all of these fireworks from.”
“It’ll be fine, you stress too much.”
As you were about to open your mouth to argue, a knock sounded at the door. You rose from your seat, and you didn’t notice the look Sam and Sarah shared. “I got it, I need a break from this.”
“No, no, I’ve got it,” Sam spoke up, rushing over to you.
“Sam, I’m like five feet from the door, it’s fine.” You rolled your eyes at him and continued walking, reaching out and gripping the doorknob.
“Y/N, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
You looked over your shoulder and gave him a weird look, stopping for a moment to think about what he was saying. With a shrug, you turned back to the door and opened it.
“Y/N,” Bucky breathed out, his eyes meeting yours as he stood up straight.
You gulped. “James,” you spoke curtly, taking a few steps back. You wanted to walk away, to turn on your heel and run as fast as possible in the other direction. But you were frozen, lost in a trance as you stared into his eyes.
Sam appeared behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and pulling you from your stupor. “This is what I was talking about,” he hissed in your ear before jerking his head to one side, signaling over at the open side door. You gave him a nod and slipped away, wrapping your arms around yourself.
Footsteps sounded behind you as you sat down on the porch steps, your back tensing as you contemplated turning around to see who was coming.
“You okay?” Sarah spoke, settling down next to you and nudging your shoulders with hers.
A sigh left your lips. “I don’t know,” you told her.
It was true. Part of you was happy to see him in the flesh after all of these years, see his blue eyes glisten in a way that couldn’t be caught on camera. You wanted to hug him, to beg him for another chance, to kiss him just once. The other part of you a jumbled mess of heavy emotions. Anger, regret, misery, wariness. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream at him, cry, vomit, or hold him close to you.
It had been a rough couple of years for Bucky.
After everything fell apart, after he lost you, no one wanted to talk to him for awhile. He understood why, of course, and he knew he’d do the same if he was in their shoes. Jess didn’t even talk to him, other than her confirming that the arrangement was over with and having him sign a few things.
During that time of loneliness, he thought a lot about what you’d told him. God, how could he even try to forget what you said. Every word, every cry, every strangled gasp of breath was ingrained in his mind, playing on a constant loop.
It wasn’t the 40′s and he couldn’t hop form girl to girl like he used to or blame his dumb actions on said girls. You told him he was free now that the relationship was over, when the last thing he felt was free when you let him go. You never wanted to see his face again. You gave everything up for him, and you did it because you loved him. He broke you.
Then he looked back on the past four months, all the effort you put into the relationship. Your birthday party for him, complete with a bonfire when you wanted to burn the tabloids that put him in a bad light.
You were so adamant on showing him that he wasn’t a monster, while everything he had done to you was nothing short of monstrous.
Hell, you almost died for him, let yourself get tortured for hours on end because you wouldn’t give up where he was. He wished he could say that he knew he was in love with you he found you clinging on to life, but it wasn’t. He wished he could say he was stubborn up to that point.
Truly, he fell in love with you that first night at the bar wearing your pretty sundress and your signature beaming smile on your face. He remembered that he wished he could taste the sugary drink on your lips, get drunk off of you and let himself give in.
His thoughts traveled to that first night he spent with you, your limbs tangled together and his lips latched onto yours to make up for lost time. You didn’t even need to have any liquor on your lips for him to feel intoxicated. It was the first time he felt that way in close to a century, the hazy dreamlike state that made his head spin as he craved more.
If he did sleep, he’d fall asleep on the carpet of your old room, imprints still left in the fabric from your bed frame and your bookshelves and your desk. His cheek would be pressed against the carpet, leaving a pattern on his skin when he’d inevitably wake a few hours later from a nightmare.
He didn’t dream of his days as the Winter Soldier like he used to. Now, he dreamt of your tear-soaked cheeks, your pleas for him to stay, your ragged sobs. He dreamt of Steve who was disappointed in the man he became, the man who’d hurt someone so easily. He dreamt of you and Steve ignoring his pleas for you both to stay, you two had your backs turned to him as you walked away and faded from his view.
After a few months, Sam gave in and spoke to Bucky again. Bucky had suspected Maria Hill had something to do with it as she was worried about his reckless solo missions that usually ended with him in the medical bay. They’d joined back together, but it took about another 12 months for the two to get close to the way things were. But it would never be the same, they both knew that.
Wanda had barely spoken a word to him in two years, and it was only after his 111th birthday when she’d found him sobbing in your old room that she let her walls down slightly.
“Bucky?” Wanda spoke, peeking her head through the cracked door.
Bucky sat on the floor, his back propped up against the wall and his head in his hands. His legs were pulled up to his chest and his elbows rested on his knees. His whole body shook with sobs, and when his fingers weren’t scrubbing away the tears on his cheeks, they were tugging at his long and tangled waves.
“Bucky,” Wanda gasped, stepping inside and rushing over to him. “Are you okay?”
At her voice, he froze for a moment. His hands retreated from his face and he stared up at her, his lower lip quivering. “I can’t close my eyes, Wanda,” he rasped.
“What do you mean?”
“Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I... I can’t do it anymore. I miss her so much it hurts.”
She bit back the snide comments that rested on her tongue. Instead, she stayed silent, settling onto her knees next to him.
“A picture came up in my notifications, from three years ago. It was the birthday party she threw for me.” He held back a sob, unlocking his phone and sliding it over to her.
On the screen was a Facebook post (she made a mental note to tease him later for still using Facebook) that one of the party’s attendees made three years ago, popping up as a memory in his notifications. The post was a collage of photos. Photos of the scenic lake, of Bucky staring distastefully at the cake you made him, at your face smiling up at him while he was giving you a tight-lipped almost-grimace, of your face and Bucky’s illuminated by the bonfire.
“I love her,” he admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “I love her so much and I just want to see her one more time, but I can’t and it hurts so bad.”
Her lips pressed into a fine line. “I know, Bucky.”
“Can...” He sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks before looking at Wanda. “Can you do something? Please? Just... do something with my mind so I can see her one more time?”
The request took Wanda aback. For as long as she’d known Bucky, he was adamant that he didn’t want anyone in his mind, that he had enough of people being in his mind for ten lifetimes. Now he was begging her to manipulate him, to project something in his mind that wasn’t real just so he could feel a sliver of peace. But did he deserve the peace, a momentary refrain from all of the guilt he held for hurting you? “You know I can’t do that. You... You need to feel what you did. You can’t forget it.”
He nodded, his head bowing. “Trust me, I’ll feel it for the rest of my life.”
It was true. He’d felt that pain since you left, settled deep in his stomach and sitting heavy like a stone. After that day, it became more present, that stone sitting heavy on his chest and making it hard to breathe.
But when he saw you on the other side of the door, caught off guard with a smile teasing on your lips, that weight was lifted for a moment, and he finally was able to breathe.
He stared into your eyes, and he knew that if his hands weren’t occupied with holding his few bags, he’d be pulling you into his arms and kissing you like he’d fantasized every night for the past few years. Maybe you’d let him, maybe you’d pull him just as close and melt into him. Or maybe you’d slap him, wrestling out of his hold before cursing him out. He knew he didn’t deserve the former. He knew he deserved the latter.
But a man could hope, right?
Before he knew it, you were rushing away, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around yourself. That’s all that he could catch before you slipped out the side door. He watched Sam and Sarah share a look before Sarah directed her two young boys to go to their rooms and she followed you out the back door.
“She still can’t look at me,” Bucky spoke before he could stop himself.
Sam let out a huff, leading Bucky inside and taking his bags. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Sam sassed, glancing back at Bucky as he led him back to the guest room. “You know what you did to her.”
Bucky nodded, lips pursed. “I know.”
Sam set Bucky’s admittedly-light bags next to the bed, moving to the doorway when Bucky sat down on the bed. “Just try and keep your distance from her.”
Again, Bucky nodded, staring at his hands in his lap. “Promise.”
As Sam turned to leave, Bucky spoke once more. “Can you tell her I’m sorry?” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... It’s not enough, I know that, but I just want her to hear it.”
Sam let out a sigh, incredulously shaking his head before turning back to Bucky and giving him a small smile. “I’ll tell her,” he agreed before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.
“Sam, I truly have no idea how you bought 100 pounds of fireworks,” you grunted, tugging the seran-wrapped box off of the truck bed. “I don’t even know where we’re gonna set these up. Or if I can even get them off the truck.”
“Oh come on, I thought you were a strong woman,” Sam joked, grinning at you before ushering you to the side so he could have a crack at the box. Bracing himself, he wrapped both arms around the box and tugged with all of his might, only for it to budge slightly.
You let out a laugh. “I thought you had some superhero workout regimen you stick to?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s mostly legs. Can’t have a tree without a good trunk.”
As you and Sam continued half-joking-half-bickering, Bucky silently stepped over. The moment your gaze fell on him, you went quiet, watching his every move.
Bucky picked up the box with ease, holding it in his arms and looking at you. “Where do you need it?” he asked.
Your brows knit together for just a split second before you let a small smile crack on your face. “You can just set it down for now,” you spoke with a hint of trepidation.
He nodded, placing the box down in front of you.
“Thank you, James.”
He let himself savor the heat that flooded his cheeks and the flutter in his chest when you finally spoke to him. “Of course,” he spoke finally, clenching his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out for yours.
You two stood there for a moment, tension hanging heavy in the air as your eyes stayed locked on his.
You forgot how blue they were, how they held so much emotion if he let them. There was something in his eyes as he stared, something you thought you could place but were too fearful to hope for.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll come get you when we need it moved,” you breathed out, breaking eye contact to stare down at the box.
His lips pursed for a moment before he let out a hum of agreement and walked away.
“What the hell was that?” Sam scoffed, waving a hand in front of your face. “I thought you were done with him.”
“I am,” you argued, sitting down on the box.
“I think your googly eyes say otherwise.” He seemed upset, and you knew why. You were upset for the same reason.
It wasn't fair that Bucky could just worm his way back into your heart, making you swoon over him despite how much he hurt you.
“Just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sam let out a sigh, squatting down in front of you so you two were eye-level. “I’m sorry,” he spoke, patting your leg. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again.”
There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Do you still love him?”
Your heart sunk to your stomach. You’d been asking yourself that question ever since that day, and every time, you’d come up with the same answer, no matter how much you hated it. “I... I think so, yeah.” You sniffled, putting your head in your hands. “God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re not.” Sam grabbed both your hands and held them in his own. “I’m gonna tell you something you might not like.”
You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “That’s all you do, Sam.”
“Bucky’s hurting too.”
“Hey, just listen.” He waited until your lips were pursed shut before continuing. “I know love when I see it, and I know that Bucky loves you. Truly, no matter how much of an asshole he is.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you and Buck are my friends, and you’re both hurting because of each other. I just want you two to be happy, but I don't want you to do anything you don’t want to do. Just... Think about it, okay?”
You reluctantly nodded. “Okay.”
The event turned out to be much bigger than you’d expected.
As you talked to some of the attendees while helping out with a little bit of everything, you found that people had driven from states away just to get a chance to meet Sam and Bucky. It was crazy to you, seeing the boy you’d grown up with be such an idol in someone else’s eyes.
You tried to stay as low-key as possible during the night, but there were quite a few people who had recognized you from the paparazzi photos. They’d ask about you and Bucky, about why you broke up, and you’d just have to smile and give them some weak explanation about how you two were better as friends.
Everything seemed to die down as the sun set and the photo ops between Sam and Bucky had ended. As soon as you got the chance, you escaped from the crowd to sit at the end of the dock, feet hanging over the edge as you stared out at the water.
Though your eyes didn’t move away from the horizon, you could tell that someone had sat down next to you.
“They really like you,” you spoke.
Bucky shrugged, fiddling with his hands. “I think they really just like Sam,” he argued, stealing a glance at your profile once every few moments.
“Well everyone was asking me about you, so I’d have to argue against that.”
His shoulders slouched slightly. “I’m sorry.”
You shrugged. “I was expecting it. A lot of my kids ask about you too, so I’ve had some practice.”
“I’m a teacher now.”
A smile settled on his face. “That’s good. I bet they love you.”
“They tolerate me,” you teased, a smile cracking on your lips as well.
There was a beat of silence, but the tension that was there earlier no longer sat in the air. After a moment, you turned to face him. The waves that once only fell to his temple now skimmed just below his jawline and a few strands were tucked behind his ear. You were pretty jealous of how good it looked, you had to admit.
“Your hair is longer,” you pointed out. “It’s still wavy.”
“Someone told me once that they liked my hair when it was wavy,” he hummed, looking at you. “I don’t remember who, though.”
“Hmm, I wonder who it was.”
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll remember someday so I can thank them.”
You let out a laugh, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.
You don’t know the tears that flowed down your cheeks, the sobs that strangled your throat after just a few moments. Maybe it was because you had finally touched him, felt the heat of his body underneath you. Maybe you were reminded of everything you’d never have.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he whispered when he felt your fingers tightening around his leather jacket, heard the sobs bubbling past your lips. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.
You pulled a fist away from his jacket before slamming it down, hitting him in his shoulder. “Why’d you do it?” you cried out, hitting him again and again. “Why the fuck did you do it?”
“You broke me, James. I hate you.”
Those words hit harder than any of the feeble punches you were throwing, knocking the breath from his lungs. He pulled you closer, pressing your face into his clavicle and he rested his chin on your head. “I’m so sorry, doll.”
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” You let out a wail, slumping against him. “Why did you do it? What was wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you. God, you’re... You’re perfect. You’re too perfect for me. I just... I couldn’t let myself have anything good.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“I gave you all of me, and now I have nothing left. I can’t feel anything anymore, James. But I still love you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
He was silent, his eyes closed as he took in your words.
He loved you. He knew he did. Why couldn’t he just say it?
With a sniffle, you wiggled yourself out of his grip and rose to your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Goodbye, James. I hope you’ll be able to heal from all of this,” you spoke with a sense of finality, not even sparing him a glance as you turned on your heel.
Bucky watched as you walked away, your dress blowing in the wind. He remembered that dress.
It wasn’t until you were halfway down the dock for him to finally snap out of his stupor, jumping to his feet. “I remember” he yelled, his hands shaking.
You stopped in your tracks, scrubbing the tears off of your face before you glanced back at him. “What?” you shouted back, waiting for a moment before shaking your head and continuing to walk.
Bucky felt the panic flood his veins as his body worked on autopilot, breaking into a run to try and catch you before it was too late. When he was only a few feet away, he spoke again. “You wore that dress on our first date. At the bar.”
That made you fully freeze, glancing down at the dress that you’d absentmindedly threw on this morning.
“You look just as beautiful in it as you did that night. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that night.”
He stepped over to you, walking around until you two were face-to-face.
“I’m sorry for it all.”
“There’s a lot of things I need to apologize for, and I don’t know where to start. But I’ve been trying to get better, to let myself have people close to me. To let myself love again. You made me want to do that. I was so scared of letting myself love again, letting myself be vulnerable, that I hurt you more than I thought possible. I’m so fucking stupid for doing any of that to you, for letting a woman as amazing as you slip right through my fingers when you were the best thing I’ve ever had. But I didn’t even have you. A-And I guess maybe I had this issue with control, that I was so scared of letting you go on your own, letting you make your own decision to leave me, that I just had to push you away myself so I knew why you left. I just... couldn’t let myself get too close because I might lose control.”
you could hear the quiver in his voice, and though you didn’t dare look at his face, you could tell that he was crying. His voice held that certain husk that you’d heard only once, and it made your heart shatter.
“Why are you telling me this?” you whispered.
“Because I care about you.”
You nodded, looking over at the setting sun on the horizon. “Can I ask you something?”
“Do you think that if we met under normal circumstances, if we weren’t forced into a relationship, we would’ve worked out? Do you think that you... That you’d love me?”
“Oh, doll,” he whispered both of his hands cupping your cheeks and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I love you now. I-I’ve always loved you.”
“When was the last time you told someone that?” There was a hint of annoyance in your voice.
He sucked in a shaky breath. “Probably to my mom. Or to Steve.”
You gulped. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through, and I’m sorry that I hurt you so bad.”
His eyes were swimming with tears, but you could tell that his words were honest. You could see the admiration in his eyes, the emotion he’d tried so hard to hide until now. “James-”
“I think I knew that night at the bar that I was in love with you. God, you were just so perfect and beautiful. And you’ve only gotten better.”
You knew he could feel the heat that flooded your cheeks at his words. “I guess I’m finally getting a glimpse of that flirty ladies man I’ve heard so much about.”
“I wanna show you who I am. I... I want to try again. I want to give you the love you deserve. Take you out on dates and kiss you and... I just want to be yours.” There was a moment of silence as he searched your eyes. “But I know that I don’t deserve that chance, and I understand if you won’t give it to me. We can never see each other again. Whatever you want.”
You tugged your lower lip between your teeth in thought, staring into the vast oceans of blue that swirled in his eyes. “I want to start from the beginning,” you spoke finally. “I want to know all of your favorite things. I want to know the real you. And we’ll just see where that takes us.” Your hands moved up, resting on his and linking your fingers together. “How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect, pretty girl.” A smile broke across his face, crinkling the corners of his still-damp eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”
He nodded, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Cross my heart.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can I ask you something?”
“Before we start from scratch, can I get one last kiss?”
You let out a laugh, bumping your nose with his. “Just one.”
“That’s all I need.”
With no hesitation, his lips captured yours, his hands holding you as close as possible as he poured every last emotion into the kiss. His lips and yours still tasted of saline, but it was perfect. It was everything you needed.
You two jumped apart as a boom sounded in the sky, and you both looked up to see fireworks exploding above your heads. “He was definitely timing that,” you joked, looking over at Bucky to watch the colorful lights dance over his face. “These lights sure are flattering on you, James.”
He sighed, turning to face you. “Doll, if you keep calling me James I might just cry again.”
You grinned. “Bucky.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. “That’s more like it.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours once more.
“Hey, you said one kiss,” you playfully whined against his lips.
“Yeah, but we were interrupted. Now, let me get my kiss.” He kissed you again before pulling away, staring at your lips. “Okay, one more.” Another kiss. “Hold on, just one more.” Another kiss. “One last kiss.” Another kiss. “I lied. One more.” His lips melted against yours as you melted into him, hands gripping at his biceps. “Hmm, maybe one more.”
Tags: @summerdaughter, @spid3rgwen, @girlfriday007, @lmaosupertuff, @pansexualproblemchild, @toothhurtyam, @claudiaatje, @angstysebfan, @tyzerman91, @hawsx3, @slut-for-buck, @foggyempathfireperson, @etherealghostface, @bby-aj, @stolenxkissess, @joseyrw, @aperiya, @mooonlitstars, @tyzerman91, @stumbleonmywords, @geekanista, @imtaashu, @440mxs-wife, @havesaltwilltravel, @cxddlyash, @lukesaprince, @lilbean-2002, @vghz82, @joannie95, @sharanyasrivastava
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failed dinner night ▪️🍱 bucky barnes x reader
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn! reader
mentions: only mentions of alcohol.
Minors DNI. 18+ only.
I am not responsible of your media consumption, if you proceed to read it's up to you entirely.
I DO NOT give permission for my any of my work to be copied, translated or used on other sites. As always likes, comments are greatly appreciated! I love that!✨💐
(look at how soft my man looks fuck😭🥺)
Despite your commonly busy schedules the both of you shared you made an effort to have a dinner night during the week. Most of the time it resulted being on Friday nights and truly it fit perfectly.
Sometimes dinner night was going out to the cinema, other times you had a fancy dinner at a restaurant and other nights you tried doing something creative but lately it resulted in staying in, perhaps preparing dinner or ordering from your selected favourite places. Neither of you complained as the thing you looked up to the most was spending time together after being apart for most of the week, barely getting a glimpse during the morning.
Bucky wasn’t replying to your messages, you didn’t think much of it thinking he probably was at one of his meetings or in traffic and he knew better than texting and driving at the same time. You tried to get busy preparing the dinner, the glasses of wine and the music but soon enough there were no more things to prepare.
He didn’t pick up your calls, it had passed an hour now and your worries increased. “I’m sure he’s stuck at the office” you repeated yourself and zapped through the channels trying to once again distract your mind. The food was getting colder as the minutes passed and you had already downed about three thirds of the wine bottle trying to satisfy the emptiness in your stomach.
You were about to dial his number again, the phone marked 11PM, there was no sign of Bucky and the wine had started to make an effect on you, your head was pounding and your eyeballs felt weighted. A part of you felt guilty about having opened one of the food containers but alcohol wasn’t helping with the stomach growls.
Another after another call declined.
A part of your brain installed all sorts of thoughts, and thankfully the alcohol didn’t let the anxiety get the best of you, you were too tired to deal with those thoughts, you were too tired to be angry at the bad anxious thoughts although you knew Bucky wasn’t that kind of man, he loved you too much to even lay a digit on someone else. You huffed as you made yourself comfortable on the couch, well as comfortable as possible. The TV kept playing a horror film as your eyes began to doze off succumbing to sleep.
Bucky finally arrived not so long afterwards, he was unaware of you being asleep so he did the typical loud greeting but you were beyond unconscious. He dumped his set of keys on the small ceramic holder by the door and set down his suitcase before making his way to the living room where he found you sound asleep on the sofa.
The only sources of light were the TV and the dim light coming from the long lamp near the sofa that illuminated his face. Bucky was full of remorse about not having made it on time, he knew he had to make it up to you after having pulled all of this together by yourself.
Bucky had to stay long hours trying to fix the errors done through the day at the hospital and by 11 PM he rushed as fast as he could but traffic was hell, of course Friday night. Loud music blasting through cars that were out partying as others were perhaps getting home from dinner, another portion was cars filled with people like him, coming home late from work. Not only the traffic was jammed but God had decided to be in a petty mood blocking streets and easy exits making it extra hard to get back home.
He was hoping to get this moment of peace with you, hear about your day and the things you did at your own job, the dinner and playing board games and dancing around kissing, it was his day to day motivation to make it till Friday but being chief at the Hospital wasn’t an easy job and it meant sometimes these things happened. Bucky observed the delicate features of your face taking in all your beauty causing a soft smile to form on his face. His hand brushed through your hair as he leaned down to kiss the temple of your face.
He blew off the candles that were already melted halfway, took the food to the fridge and put away the small amount of wine that was leftover. He took off his warm blazer and placed it gently on the sofa chair before turning off the TV. Bucky moved you gently making space for himself on the couch beside you which seemed to briefly wake you up catching a blurry glimpse of his figure.
“Shh, go back to sleep love, it’s me” he cooed in a low voice as he covered both of your bodies with a plush blanket. You moved around getting comfortable once again, this time facing Bucky and rested your head on his chest, the rhythm of his heart calmed you down drifting you back to sleep as his arm wrapped you pulling you closer.
He may have missed out on dinner but at the end of it he made it home safely with you.
Happy Friday ✨💐
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BAD DAY | BUCKY BARNES X READER |
Pairing: BUCKY BARNES x unleveled READER (Y/N)
Requested by: ANON
Summary: The one in which Y/N realizes there's an intruder on their house and Bucky is their only help.
Word Count: 1.283
Words used that you might not know the meaning off: fat head (a 40's insult for when someone is annoying), dish (an attractive person)
Warnings: None I think, besides a small mention of had had sex previously.
A/N: Well, this is my very first imagine done by someone who requested it, I hope the work is what you were searching for, I'll apologize in advance because today has been a pretty stressful day and quite frankly it's not the best work I've wrote. Also, please remember to read my pines before requesting, I would have make it smut if I knew if the request was for a MLM or a WLM. Thanks still, I'm sorry it's not the best, I didn't want to publish it late, this being the first
Y/N was used to hard days, they worked and studied in collage, sometimes they just wanted to come home and drown on their bed. Today, was one of those days.
They had woken up pretty early today, before the sun had even risen to get to do everything they had on their to-do list.
First had been some daily exercise as every doctor would recommend, followed for a healthy meal after a nice, warm shower, all morning had been spent on collage, studying for the upcoming exams, because yeah, the teachers had had the brilliant idea to start off this year with an evaluation exam, all the students were exited about it, for sure. That followed a nice meal with their class mates on the neighborhood’s pizza palace, to later leave for their job all afternoon.
Now it was past 9 o’clock, it was pitch black on the dark alleys where they lived. They felt as tired as if they had run a whole marathon, which in some way it could have been considered so, as they had run from their house, to collage, to the pizza place, to work and later on to catch the bus, their legs were giving out slowly, a couch, that’s all they needed, a nice, confortable couch.
Y/N got their apartment, slowly, the old couple on the left side of the floor had salute them like every night, they were so nice, they thought, Y/N used to dream about growing old with someone, but as their relationships had gone lately, those seemed closer to dreams than reality.
They had finally arrived in front of their house, just when they were going to pushed the door’s key in, they saw how the door being already opened…which made them get still on their seat. They couldn’t move, someone was inside their house, they could hear noises inside.
Soon enough they snapped out of it and realized they needed to search for some kind of weapon, something to get inside their house in case the person who had gotten in was still there, but they couldn’t even find anything pointing to use as a weapon, the only thing they had on hand was a phone, and let’s be honest, you couldn’t do much with that, unless they pulled a Hawkeye and throw it to the exact point, in the exact angle…but they weren’t Hawkeye, in fact they were no Avengers, the closes they had gotten to be any good at valance was back when they were a waiter at the restaurant downstairs and didn’t broke the plates…which they ended up doing and getting fired for it.
It was then when it hit them, Bucky…god please let Bucky be at home, god please…That’s what they were basically praying inside their mind, they moved, slowly, calling for Bucky on the other side of the floor, careful to not let the intruder hear them were there, thankfully soon enough Bucky opened the door fast, he always had a good hearing, he used to make fun of them, in a friendly way of course, because they made lot of noise at morning, tripping on things, cursing at other things, he used to called them “the noisy one” every time they meet up on the elevator, in fact that’s how they had met, and since then they became friends…or something like that, as they weren’t strictly friends after the random nights they had been together, from time to time they would just feel lonely, or Bucky would, they knew who he was, what he went through, it wasn’t the first time that they had shared a bottle of the best Scotch Leah had on her bar. It had been Leah who had got them an apartment offer on that same building actually.
- Hey, Y/N… - Bucky said as soon as he opened the door - Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you shaking? - He asked after giving them a proper look, they were probably looking like a scared little boy about to be scolded or something they thought.
- I…there’s…- They struggled to talk - I’m….there’s someone on my apartment, can I…Can I come in? - They said, feeling how they shake even though Bucky had his hands on them. He just nodded after looking outside and let them in. - I’m sorry, Bucky…I just didn’t know where to go or what to do, I really have nothing on me at the moment in order to get in and… - They started but Bucky cut them mid sentence.
- Don’t mention it, darling… - He said, they loved the way he talked, it reminded them to the summers in which they spent with their grandfather watching 40’s movies - It’s quite better to have come here than go up against whoever it is in your apartment, any idea who it is?
- I…not really - They said leaving the jacket on the couch as many other times they had done - Could be a random robbery…could be my ex…
- Him again? - Bucky asked now visually angry.
- It’s ok - They said sitting down on the couch.
- Obviously it isn’t…Isn’t it enough that fat head idiot calls you non stop and bothers your friends but he also breaks in your apartment? Come on…I’ll finish this now, don’t worry. - Bucky said on his way to the door just in time for Y/N to stop him.
- Bucky, seriously, it’s ok…I’ll just call the cops, alright, they’ll be here in any minute… - They said and Bucky stopped walking towards the door, listening to them, just before they started walking back to the couch, took their phone on their hands and called 911, after the call ended they just stood there, still shaking a bit, sitting down slowly on the couch.
- Hey, hey, hey….Are you ok? - Bucky said walking to where they were and sitting down with them, holding them around the soldiers - It’ll be ok, dish…Don’t worry, alright? The cops would be here in any moment. - He smiled, that sweet smile of his that Y/N loved so much, they just smiled back, a bit calmer than they were before.
Time passed by and they were calm now, looking around the small apartment - Still no bed? - They laughed. Bucky just smiled back.
- I’m still not use to it.
- Wonder what the ladies would say about that… - They teased.
- They wouldn’t say anything - Bucky said dryly - As there’s nothing to say….there are no ladies coming here - He finished, it was no secret both of them felt things for each other, way more things that just friendship between neighbors, they had spent nights together, days together, they have done those “it doesn’t mean anything” nights, but in reality it did, it always does for at least someone.
Bucky walked up to them, while they were standing next to the window, watching how the far city was full of lights, even on a rainy night like this, New York was alive. He took them in, close to him and without warning kiss them,…Y/N wasn’t sure how to react, should they keep going with the kiss? Should they end it? Would this made everything more complicated, they did not know, but things kept moving, the kiss kept going, without realizing it Y/N was kissing him now, slowly, tasting the beer on his lips, feeling the breath against their mouth, they had dread these moments so much, suddenly a knock on the door made them stop, it was the cops, who finally had showed up, at the worst moment really, as Y/N thought.
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Hi Em!!!!!!!!! How are you love!!?? Over here with the worst month of my life 💔😓
Can I request a Bucky x Fem! Reader oneshot?? ✨❤️
Everyone except Tony and Wanda hated the reader because of her family, who had been part of the creation of the winter soldier. When a simple mission goes awry and Bucky is seriously injured, Steve, Nat, and Sam blame the reader for breaking away from him while she was downloading information about the Winter Soldier's mysterious nurse. Y/n tries to get close to him and Steve doesn't allow it, she gets really upset and confesses that she was Bucky's nurse, that it was that project and that her family never loved her, but they didn't believe her until she put a hand in Bucky (her crush) who, when he wakes up, watches her fall to the ground and panics for not knowing what had happened and the last thing she said before everything's went black is that she loves him. Once the tower, they explain everything that had happened while they are in the medical wing waiting for her to open her eyes and tell him everything she feels for her.
Something like enemies to lovers? Hahahahahaha
Thank you so much beauty ✨❤️ greetings from Argentina ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Of course! Starting now! 💕
Where I’ll tag the fic:
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hi bestie!! heard you were bored so 😌
my favorite thing is when reader calls bucky ‘jamie’ it literally is my whole heart
so i was wondering if you could write a lil drabble about reader meeting the team for the first time and calling him that or just calling him that in front of the team in general
(i love you and have a fantastic day!!)
((- also @barnesafterglow ))
A Name Between Two (I Was Named By You) ✗
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: "Everything is a blur. Your eyes sweep the room without really seeing—passing over somewhat familiar faces and figures standing or sitting strewn across various pieces of furniture—until they land on a cushy-looking hospital bed against the far, right wall. Until they land on him."
warning(s): minor injury, Bucky has a broken arm, reader has some (understandable) anxiety in the beginning
word count: 1.3k
masterlist. ko-fi. library.
Your left pocket sagged with the weight of your keys.
The feeling of the scalloped edge of your house key dug into your thigh uncomfortably, the nervous tremor of your leg only exacerbating it.
You hardly remembered how you had wound up here, one hand clenched at your side as the pressed the buzzer to an impossibly high, white metal door.
The squeal of your tires. Car horns honking on the interstate. The green exit sign. A metal gate that had opened all too slowly for you to drive up to the entrance.
The rest was a blur. Since that phone call, it had all been a blur.
The door parts to reveal a familiar, serious face.
“Where is he?”
“He’s okay,” Steve says instead. Leading with reassurance. Could he see the fear wreaking havoc on your features? “Upstairs getting patched up, but he’s okay.”
“I want to see him.”
“I figured you would.”
He leads you up a grand, modern white staircase. There’s not a trace of dirt. Not a boot print in sight. For a place that housed a team of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the upstate compound hardly looked lived in.
Sharp, white angles. Sterile, clinical furnishings.
No wonder Bucky preferred to make the drive home each night.
Steve rounds a corner and pauses. You nearly run into his back before he steadies you. There’s a stern look on his face, and you suddenly see the man from the wartime posters.
“I just… want to prepare you.”
You hold his gaze, unblinking, as your heart falls to your feet. A bad fall, that’s what Steve had said over the phone. Bucky took a bad fall.
“Prepare me for what?”
“It looks bad.” He doesn’t blink. Blue eyes hold your gaze steady. You realize he’s waiting for you to exhale, to take a breath, before continuing. “Looks a lot worse than it really is. The doctor says he’ll be just fine with some rest and—”
“Dr. Cho. Helen Cho. She’s the best, from what I hear. Tony trusts her with his life—”
He rubs at his chin for a moment. “A lot of bruising. Swelling. He’s bandaged up.”
“Okay.” You nod, straightening your spine. “Okay. I can handle it.”
Steve looks you over for a moment. With a soft smile, he says, “I know you can.”
You follow him the rest of the way to a gunmetal gray, steeled door. Clinical, just like the rest of the building. He twists the handle and ushers you through the opening and into the room.
Everything is a blur. Your eyes sweep the room without really seeing—passing over somewhat familiar faces and figures standing or sitting strewn across various pieces of furniture—until they land on a cushy-looking hospital bed against the far, right wall. Until they land on him.
He’s awake, in the middle of a conversation with Sam, who leans against the bed rails.
When his eyes land on you, he tries to straighten himself on the bed, a blanket caught between his metal fingers lifted in an attempt to cover the white plaster cast on his other arm. With a swollen black eye and cuts lining his cheeks, through cherry-red and chapped lips, he smiles at you.
“God, Jamie—” you choke out, feet breaking into a near-run until you’ve reached his bedside, gathering the unbandaged jut of his chin onto gentle fingertips. “I got here as fast as I could—”
“I know,” he says quietly, metallic fingers rubbing circles into your temple. “I’m okay. See? Nothing worth a speeding ticket.”
“Shut up,” you laugh weakly, eyes sweeping over every knick of his skin, avoiding the swollen, dark purpling of skin around his own baby blues. Seeing the black eye, imagining the pain that must bloom there, would only make you cry. “What happened?”
“I, uh, fell. Off a roof in Toronto.”
“Hit a balcony and a flag pole on his way down,” a voice behind you pipes up, and you nearly jump, forgetting the other figures in the room. Clint Barton, dressed in sweatpants, leans forward on an uncomfortable-looking sculpted chair. Another of Tony Stark’s design choices.
Sam seems to consider you before allowing his lips to purse into a lopsided, teasing smile. “Our boy’s face broke the landing.”
You look to Bucky, unable to school the bewilderment on your face. “A roof? What were you—a building in Toronto?”
“To be fair, it wasn’t a very tall building. Definitely not a skyscraper, at least.”
The image of Bucky hurtling past windows and windows and windows along the side of a building sheds a visible shudder through you. He reaches out to clasp your hand.
“I was kicked off the top of this little apartment building in the city, okay? Hit a few stops on the way down, but I’m fine. Promise.” When you lift an eyebrow at him, eyes still glued to the particularly troublesome cut atop his left cheekbone, he lifts up his cast. In scrawling handwriting, you see several signatures already decorating it. The largest, written in red ink, undoubtedly belongs to Tony Stark. “Dr. Cho says I’ve got some brushing and a broken arm. Won’t be in the gym for a while, but I’m just fine.”
He smiles a bright, white-toothed smile that does the heart good. It’s almost easy to imagine that the two of you are alone in your bed at home, enjoying the weekend together, instead of sharing a hospital bed in a room filled with superheroes.
“Not gonna tell her the best part?” Steve asks suddenly, a twinge of amusement in his voice that piques your interest.
“Yeah, Jamie,” Sam teases him with the nickname you’d always reserved for private moments before now, sending the non-bruised apples of his cheeks to turn scarlet. “Go ahead.”
He looks to you in embarrassment, and whether the pinkening of his ears is more readily attributed to his teammates picking up on your nickname for him or to this part of the story he hadn’t told you yet, you couldn’t be sure.
You mouth a silent “Sorry” to him for good measure, and the soft smile he returns tells you that he isn’t angry. A bit ruffled, sure. But never angry—not with you.
“Redwing caught most of it.”
“There’s a video of it?”
The idea of watching your boyfriend fall several stories—especially knowing that it was another fall that had taken his arm many years ago—doesn’t seem like something you could stomach.
“Uh, not really the fall,” Bucky explains, scratching at something at the back of his neck.
“Just him yelling out just about every curse in the book on his way down.”
“And someone’s already remixed the audio,” Natasha adds, a stifled laugh evident in her tone. “Song’s gone viral on Tik Tok.”
Clint displays his phone screen. “Lila’s already made up a dance to it.”
It takes all you have not to throw your head back and let out a deranged laugh. Upon taking in the look on Bucky’s poor, mangled face, you manage to keep it in.
Until Tony strolls into the room, eyes glued to his phone.
“Who’d have thought we’d have a pop star among us? Gotta tell ya. You guys just make me prouder every day.”
Sam doesn’t miss a beat. “Our very own Jamie Lynn Spears.”
“Uh, I believe you mean Britney.”
Bucky whacks Sam across the chest with his non-plastered arm as Steve, who clearly understood the reference, tries to hide his chuckle with a cough.
Snuggling in closer to Bucky on the bed, your house key digs into the flesh of your thigh again, but you don’t mind. Looking around the room at all these faces—mouths distorted by laughter, eyes crinkled in amusement despite the bags beneath them—the modern white, sparse feel of the compound begins to grow on you.
Suddenly, you understand Tony Stark’s vision.
His home was very well lived-in. Bucky—your Jamie—was very well-loved in it.
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this game | bucky barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x female reader
summary: you hated him and he hated you, so why does he always crash girls night with the hopes of finally taking you home.
warnings: “enemies” to first kiss, fluff, fake hatred for each other, cuss words
You step out from your car and gather your things. You are late to dinner with a few friends so you walk as fast as your heels allow. You finally reach the restaurant and make your way inside, you lock eyes with one of your girlfriends and make your way over to them.
You stop dead in your tracks as you realize your best friend has brought her boyfriend Sam and seemingly enough, his best friend Bucky tagged along.
You can’t help but roll your eyes as you were not expecting girls night to be ruined by these two idiots.
You meant no offense to Sam. Sam is great, he’s great to your best friend and that’s all that matters.
Bucky on the other hand... You are not a fan. Literally. He’s cocky and arrogant. He is one of those guys who knows he’s attractive and he uses it to get what he wants.
Look, just cause he’s an avenger and saves the world every now and then doesn’t make him the coolest, most attractive, perfect, person ever.
Well that’s what you tried to tell yourself.
You knew deep deep down that you had a slight crush on Bucky. Slight.
But absolutely hell to the no will that ever reach the surface let alone be something that is ever discussed.
So you will continue your silent hatred for him as a way to cope with the fact you just want to run your hands through his hair and kiss his perfectly sculpted lips.
“Y/N!” The girls cheer as you approach the table. You give a smile and wave and sit down. Of course the only open seat is the one beside Bucky but you pay him no mind as you throw your purse and jacket down.
“Nice of you to show up.” He scoffs in your direction.
Bucky shares similar feelings to you. He isn’t necessarily your biggest fan either. It’s a mutual hate you have for each other and it’s fine. You both respect it.
“Nice of you to crash girls night... again.” You fire back. He cocks his head in your direction and raises an eyebrow at you.
Jesus. Sometimes he’s too attractive. You roll your eyes at him and turn to your other friends. You make your way through dinner and Bucky and you have simultaneously ignored each other. It’s been great. Your best friend and Sam kept being overly affectionate despite receiving boos and moans from the table. The time comes to pay and you realize you forgot your wallet at work.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself. Bucky hears your comment and glances up at you.
“Something wrong?” He asks with an eyebrow raised again. His Brooklyn accent so fucking pretentious. Sometimes you just wanna shove him against a wall and...
“Yes. Well no. It’s nothing. I just forgot my wallet at work.” You begin to brush him off and ask one of your other friends to help cover your tab up when Bucky grabs your check. You try to grab it back and he pushes your hand away.
“James.” You say with your sternest voice.
“Chill, doll.” His voice sharper than yours. You sit back and sigh. Sometimes he isn’t worth fighting. The waiter returns and you all say your goodbyes.
You and Bucky seemed to have parked on the same street so you walk silently together. You approach your car and you turn to thank him again for buying your dinner.
“I can Venmo you.” You attempt to open your door and grab your phone but instead stop yourself as you hear him chuckle to himself. You turn back around at him very confused.
“You’re such a fucking idiot.” He whispers but loud enough you can make out each syllable.
“Excuse me?” You question why the fuck he just insulted you like that.
“You don’t need to pay me back. It’s fine.” He continues laughing to himself and you are utterly confused.
“What is so funny?” You cross your arms and use his own eyebrow trick against him.
“You. You are funny. This game we play is funny.” He continues on.
“Game? What ga-“ You attempt to say back but suddenly his hand wraps around the back of your head and pulls you into him. Your lips crash against each other. His kiss is hard and possessive and you can’t help but instinctively wrap your hands in his hair.
Ah. It’s as soft as you thought it would be. He deepens the kiss and you let out a small moan into his mouth. You can feel him smirk against your lips. His hands have made their way from the side of your face, to your hips. His aggressive hold on your hips is enough to make your head spin. He finally pulls back for air and smirks at you.
“I knew it.” He continues his smirk.
“Fuck off” You scoff at him and try to regain your composure. You gently push him away from you but his grip on your hips is too tight. He laughs at your attempt and leans back in and places a soft kiss on your forehead.
“I knew you liked me.” He smiles and pulls away.
“You’re the one who kissed me!” You exclaim and he chuckles.
“Yeah and?” He raises an eyebrow at you.
Game. Fucking. On.
“So that’s it? Just the one kiss?” You question and he tilts his head in confusion.
“What you want more, baby girl?” He growls.
“Come back to my apartment.” You demand.
A wide smile emerges on his face and he turns to run to his car. You practically race each other back to your place and enjoy a long awaited night together.
a/n: enjoy this random fluffy piece hehe <3
taglist: @marvel-ous-miss-maisie | @stucky-my-ship | @dancer3205 | @capmanranger | @wooyugta | @marvelfansworld | @heretokilltime | @russosprettydiamondnow | @voguesir | @silentkiller2374 | @igotnoname4thisblog | @sunflowerfive | @smokeinherperfume | @daybleedsintonightfa11 | @granpafrisbee | @straightforwardly
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I’m sorry you aren’t feeling good 😞 I hope you feel better soon! I have a question for you about Entrapment. I love it so much and I have to know, does the reader makes it a habit to transform into animals and try to freak out Bucky like she did with the bear? I just love their interactions and the way she isn’t going to make it easy for him but he’s totally gone for her.
Entrapment – One Shot
Y/N definitely messes with Bucky every once in awhile. But she's not doing it every day by any means.
Also, it gets harder and harder to trick Bucky. Despite all Y/N's different animal forms, he quickly learns how to recognize them. After only a few months of dating, Bucky can discern if it's just a normal wild animal or Y/N in just a few seconds.
Y/N also has forms that she favors. Mammals are easier for her and therefore the most common transformation. Bugs and amphibians are the trickiest for her.
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slow ‘n steady , bucky barnes
— (fem!reader x tfatws!bucky)
summary; You and Bucky have been dating for a month now, and having a discussion about his past leaves you more connected to each other.
warnings; smut, fluff, trauma, reader has a dirty mouth, oral (m receiving), cockwarming, kinda sub!bucky, body worship, porn WITH plot (sort of), bucky hasn’t had sex in a looooong time, teasing-ish, plenty of pet names, this couple is soft & goofy.
word count; 2,897
a/n; this started out as an old draft from when i first saw tfatws, then i edited it recently to get this final ooey-gooey fic. enjoy <3 - stellie
Things were about as steady with your boyfriend as steady goes.
He was a private person, kept to himself for the most part. He wasn’t vulnerable or even pouty like some guys your friends had gone out with. James was a classic man, strong and quite old-fashioned. He brought you roses on your first date, which no one had ever done for you.
You met James while volunteering at rec-center bingo. He was there with an older man, looking unamused. It made you feel bad for him, which resulted in some very teenager-like flirting, because the stunningly handsome brunette obviously got a little flustered in your bold presence. You and James went out for dinner the following Monday.
A week after your first date, he couldn’t hold it back. Maybe telling his shrink about you was a mistake, because she had raised her eyebrow at him, silently saying, “have you told her yet?”
James didn’t want to ruin everything with the most beautiful person he had ever met. Not when it had just begun.
He told you that he wanted to go camping, and you couldn’t refuse his cerulean eyes. Instead of taking you out to the wilderness, you ended up in D.C. at the Smithsonian.
“That’s me,” he said, pointing to the pictures memorializing the Howling Commandos and Captain America’s best friend, Bucky Barnes.
Then it clicked. You weren’t dating James Barnes, the humble veteran and mechanic from Brooklyn, you were dating Bucky Barnes, the war hero turned assassin... now adjusting to life as a civilian.
“It’s okay if you wanna... I get it,” James looked down at his scuffed up boots. “I wouldn’t wanna date a 106 year-old freak either.”
You had heard the stories, mostly the bad ones, about the infamous Winter Soldier. It doesn’t matter now, that wasn’t really him.
“Hey, James... Bucky,” you reached up to cup his sharp jaw in your hands. “I still like you.”
He smiled ever-so-slightly, and you liked the way ‘Bucky’ felt sliding off your tongue. He was the most precious thing in the world.
The car ride back to Brooklyn was silent. You held his hand all the way home, thinking about all the horror he must’ve gone through. Part of you wanted to ask him about it, and the other part didn’t want to poke and prod too much. James — or Bucky — always wore gloves too. New York weather could be cruel, especially when it was hot, and Bucky still opted for a jacket and gloves. Peculiar.
After Bucky had dropped you home, you practically ran to your laptop. The Winter Soldier was a ghost story of sorts, so you had never seen what he looked like. You were never interested in that sort of thing either, you tended to avoid the news.
The internet is horrible. There’s Winter Soldier wikis and everything. Some of the ‘Winter Soldiers’ aren’t even Bucky. A crazy terrorist named Zemo tried to frame your boyfriend once and Steve Rogers went apeshit, you remember that being a top dinner-table discussion when you still lived at home.
The pictures you saw of the Winter Soldier was what frightened you the most. Your smiley, shy Bucky, with a striking metal arm and a machine gun. That same arm again at a different angle, covered in blood, holding a knife. He’s always wearing a face mask that covers his pretty, petal-pink lips. His hair is long, and that’s probably why no one ever recognized him in public.
You had to ask him about this eventually. Now you knew that Bucky had been shooting his way through fights since the forties, and on top of that, was put in a goddamn freezer. Maybe you’d give it a few weeks, let it set in that he’d told you, but now you were even more curious about James Buchanan Barnes.
“Buck...” three weeks later, you were stood outside his apartment door, fidgeting with his gloved fingers in your hand.
“Are you alright, doll?” He sounded worried.
You sighed, a somber expression painting your usually sparkling eyes. “I think we should skip going to the movies tonight.”
Bucky quirked an eyebrow, curling his fingers in your grip.
“I wanna ask you some things,” you said just above a whisper. “About your past.”
He froze, the way you would imagine someone would if you asked them to recall years of trauma when they were just planning on seeing a shitty romcom with their girlfriend. Bucky reached for the doorknob of his apartment. You had only ever been inside for a few minutes at a time, but you had a feeling you’d be getting comfortable.
“We can talk about it. I’m ready.”
Gentle nudges were much better than harsh shoves when it came to Bucky. With delicate encouragement, he had talked to you about some of the things he remembered from Hydra, or at least what he could tell you without breaking down. Sometimes you were worried you might cry, like when he talked about meeting Steve again.
Bucky nestled himself further into the couch when he talked about the forties, almost like he was searching for some sort of warmth. The warmth of old music and his family, maybe. You wouldn’t push him. He discussed more recent things like the Avengers, Wakanda, and his therapist, all of which were something to smile about.
He had said his piece for now, but there was something you weren’t letting off the hook just yet. Bucky may have assumed you knew about the metal arm, marked with a red star, but he’s never showed you his arm or even his bare hands. Hell, you’ve been attached at the hip for a month and he’s only given you a peck on the lips.
Go slow, don’t overwhelm him.
“I-“ you held back the urge to just take his jacket off yourself. “Can I see your arm?”
“So you do know about it?” Bucky turned his gaze away from you.
Your eyes started to well up. What could he be so ashamed of?
“Baby, please,” you coaxed him. “It’s okay.”
The sound of your voice melted him like butter in a microwave, and he reluctantly peeled off his leather jacket and gloves. Low and behold, a very flawlessly made vibranium arm was before you.
“It was made for me, in Wakanda,” he held out his vibranium hand to you and it made a low whirring noise. “The old one is... retired.”
You giggled and held Bucky’s cold hand in your warm one. It was an inviting coldness, something that you didn’t mind feeling. It was comforting, it was Bucky.
Before you could evaluate the impact of your curiosities, you lifted the sleeve of his black t-shirt to see where Bucky’s flesh connected to his prosthetic limb.
“No, don’t do that,” Bucky nearly shrieked the words out as he grabbed your side with his flesh hand.
“Why?” You had never seen his body in a vulnerable state, it was beginning to make you crazy.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t like how it looks.”
Damn Hydra. Tortured him and then wiped him clean for years, thinking he would actually forget it. Torture leaves scars, mental and physical.
“I love how you look,” you clutched his chin between your fingers. “Such a pretty boy, always thinkin’ about you, Bucky.”
“Really?” He already looked blissed-out.
“Yeah,” you straddled his lap, feeling like a confused virgin all over again. Bucky only hugged you if he was feeling frisky, this was definitely new territory.
That’s what happens when your boyfriend has lived two lifetimes, and he was an ice-cube for half of them.
Bucky looked up at you expectantly, waiting on your next move. You dove down into the column of his neck, leaving little kisses and bites there. He’s never let you be so intimate with him.
“James,” you tried not to sound too critical. “When was the last time you... were with someone?”
He tensed up, a blush instantly heating up his neck. Poor Bucky had a hard enough time just being a civilian, being a civilian with a partner had been out of the question in recent years, until you came along and wrecked his plans.
“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” you laughed.
Bucky brought both of his contrasting hands to your face, bringing it back up to his. His oceanic eyes had clouded over with a black-ink color of lust, and his creamy cheeks were tinted pink in the dim light.
“You keep missin’, doll,” he smirked. “Kiss me.”
His lips were magnets to yours as your fingers threaded through his neatly-trimmed hair. You immersed yourself in all things Bucky, because he smells like the woods and he’s warm and you could die happy kissing him like this. You’re so glad you missed that movie and decided to listen to him talk, because now you wish to be inseparable from him. You’ll leave featherlight kisses on each and every inch of that vibranium arm just to prove how much you want to stay.
“I’m gonna take this off now,” you inched the hem of his shirt up.
Anyone would have to squint in order to notice what Bucky hated, but from the way he winced, you knew exactly why he didn’t want that shirt off.
Messy scars littered the skin where man had previously met metal arm, right at his left shoulder. There were also countless battle wounds Bucky had endured over the years scattered across his body, but you made no fuss of it. He was just your Bucky.
You kissed the marred skin of his left shoulder, disregarding how much he despises it. He deserved everything, to be praised and loved on, so that’s what you would do. Every bullet wound and scratch you could see received the tender acknowledgment of your lips.
Bucky was almost sobbing above you as you neared his abdomen. You knew in your heart that he needed this, someone to touch him in a way that felt like a promise. He had been through so much and was still impossibly giving. You held his flesh hand in yours and squeezed it, like you were telling him that you were still there. You wondered how many times you had held the vibranium hand without knowing.
“So beautiful, Bucky. All mine,” you were on your knees for him, sliding your t-shirt off. “My baby boy.”
He smiled shyly at you, face going beet-red when he sees your chest in a nicely fitting black bra. The view couldn’t get any better, really.
Bucky groans when you pop the button of his faded jeans open, like someone had just punched him in the gut. He’s sensitive and trying to hold back, but you don’t mind. You shimmy his jeans all the way down his thick, gorgeous thighs. You’d love to take those for a spin, but now’s not the time. His leaking cock is waiting for you, at least now you know that, but you’re still debating how you want to play this.
“Buck,” you massage his thighs. “Has a girl ever sucked you off?”
“No,” he answered breathlessly.
“Alright, sarge,” you snapped the elastic of his waistband. “Tell me anytime if you wanna stop.”
Bucky whined again and pleaded for you to just do something, angling his hips up so you had easy access to take his boxers clean off.
“Such a good boy for me,” you discarded the useless fabric to the side of the couch.
He watched as you leaned your head closer to his erection. He was bigger than you had anticipated, but it’s not like you were complaining. You dragged your tongue all the way up his shaft, your ears eating up his dirty moans like sweet music. You took him in your mouth, lazily sucking his length, and pulling off with a pop.
“You moan like a fuckin’ pornstar, Buck,” you stared at him with hooded eyes.
“I haven’t felt this good in... years,” his chest was heaving. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Sergeant Barnes,” you sank your lips back down on his cock, gagging on his impressive size.
Bucky grunted and writhed around, threatening to release in your mouth any moment. Tonight was all about him, but you had other plans about where he would be finishing.
“Doll, can’t hold it,” he squeezed your hand.
You pulled off and hushed him, soothing his anxiety. His face had a look of fear etched in his features, like he was about to disappoint you. God, you wouldn’t be disappointed, you would be proud that he could let go for you.
“Don’t worry, baby, not much longer.”
With jell-o for legs, you stood up, taking your jeans and underwear off. This was all so new for you and Bucky, but it felt like you had waited a lifetime for it. You didn’t want anyone else to touch you ever again, just him.
He grinned at you, with teeth. “You’re pretty.”
Bucky’s dark hair was disheveled and sweaty, his face was flushed, and his voice was low with what could only be arousal. You’ve never stood before anyone more captivating.
“You’re handsome,” you straddled him like you had earlier. “I’m so lucky, you’re incredible.”
He really is. Your Bucky. He’d go to hell and back for you, that’s just the guy that he is.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead to his. He breathed out a “yes”, and you took his cock inside of you inch by inch.
“Jesus Christ,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside you.
“It’s just Bucky,” he answered your non-question in a choked laugh. “God, you’re so tight.”
“I’m gonna beat your ass later,” you sassed.
“Finish what you started.”
You looked down to where your body joined Bucky’s. It was supposed to be sinful according to everything you had ever been told, but it felt loving and exciting. Your entire body was lighting up, and if that’s sin, you’ll take hell.
Bucky kissed you feverishly, surprising you, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. You began grinding and bouncing on his cock, his thick length hitting every electric nerve inside of you just right. He mouthed at your pulse as you convulsed around him, but you weren’t close enough to finish. You snuck a hand between your folds and started to play with your clit, but the whirring of vibranium plates stopped you in your tracks. You can teach an old dog new tricks, Bucky Barnes included. He played your clit like a fiddle until you came around his cock, clenching down on him and moaning his name.
“You’re so good, Bucky,” you nipped at his earlobe while you still came down from your high. “Gonna cum for me?”
He whined almost hysterically, his release close.
“Let go, I’m right here,” you kissed his cheek to calm him and held his hand. “You’re safe.”
Bucky growled and then you knew he had let go. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside as he filled you up, and the way he held you close made you impossibly dizzy. Everything was so Bucky.
You kissed his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The bed in Bucky’s bedroom has been made for awhile now. He told you that when you still thought he was a veteran that had done tours in Iraq and slept better on the floor. It was an odd quirk to you, but even with the truth now revealed, you couldn’t judge him. He said in the shower that he wanted to sleep in bed tonight, or at least try.
You both got in, the sheets soft and silky. Bucky left all the lights in the kitchen and bathroom on, but again, you weren’t saying a word about it. He looked at you all sleepily, shirtless with his dog tags on, and you hesitantly grabbed the necklace to observe it.
“It’s awfully quiet,” you ran the pads of your fingers over the letters on the tags. “Is something wrong?”
Bucky murmured something. “Wanna be close.”
You pulled on the tags to bring him closer. “I see.”
His lips connect to yours in a very sloppy manner, drool everywhere from you both laying on your sides. You revel in the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, he tastes like his spearmint toothpaste. The body wash that he used in the shower smells like dish soap, but it’s intoxicating. It’s all so soothing and sensual that you want to burst.
“Closer,” you scratch down his bicep. “Bucky...”
You’re not even wearing any underwear to hide how soaking wet you are, just one of Bucky’s old t-shirts. You’re begging for it, your hand making its way down his washboard abs and to his boxers.
“Not again tonight,” he gave you a peck on the nose.
You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”
This is what happens when you date a 106 year-old man.
“What’s it like?” He asked curiously.
It was your turn to whine. “Just wanna be full.”
Bucky kicked off his boxers under the sheets, sheathing himself inside of your warm walls.
“Would it be a bad time to say I love you?” He grazed a finger over your cheekbone.
“You’re balls-deep inside me, but I love you too.”
Bucky let out a small laugh, and nothing could be more serene, just you and your boy.
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NSFW head canon
Having small hands/fingers which meant you were never able to hit your g-spot. So obviously your much larger than you boyfriend is dedicated to proving just how useful his fingers are🤤
Let's go with beefy lumberjack Bucky.
Pairing: Beefy Lumberjack Bucky x reader
Word Count: 1.5K
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Fingering, Minors DNI, Protective Bucky.
A/N: This was supposed to be five sentences. Five. Le sigh. As always dont’ copy, rewrite, repost or translate my drabbles. I do love comments, likes and reblogs.
Bucky never intended on eavesdropping, he was heading to the kitchen to start dinner when he overhead you whispering on your phone.
The words gspot and can’t come, making him turn around. His brows furrowing, forming a deep wrinkle as he creeps into the living room.
You flopped back on the couch, tapping your foot on the plush chiffon rug. “What if it’s me?”
You sound dejected. He knew you had been hesitant to spend the night, but he chalked it up to nerves. Hell, he was nervous too; he wanted your first time with him to be incredible. As he listens to you talk about how the last guy you dated treated you, Bucky feels something twist deep in his gut, a startling rage at every guy who’s ever let you down flaring to life.
“Maybe I'm broken or something. I-I don’t want to disappoint him and I-“
You squeak in surprise when your phone is suddenly taken from your hand. “She’ll call you back.” Bucky tosses it on the coffee table, rounding the couch until he’s looming over you.
“Broken?” Bucky says in disbelief. “Bunny, I promise ain’t a damn thing wrong with you.”
You drop your eyes to your hands, picking at your nails. “I- I’m sorry,” you say, not even sure why you’re apologizing, embarrassment heating your face.
He kneels beside you, his hands smoothing up your legs until they’re curving around your waist. “Look at me,” he commands, lowering his head until he catches your eyes. “Just because some immature jackass couldn’t do his job doesn’t mean it was your fault.”
He can tell you’re not convinced. He’ll show you he’s right. “You want me to prove it?”
Even crouching, he’s at your eye level, his thin henley straining around his large corded biceps. His long chestnut locks pulled back into a loose bun, a shadow of a beard across his sculpted handsome face. You want him to be right, so much that your clit pulsates at the thought of coming apart for him.
“Just say yes and I swear I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”
“Ye-,” you clear your throat, shifting under his heady gaze. Bucky rubs small circles on your thighs, the feel of his rough fingers on your soft skin has heat forming in your core, slick dripping out drenching your panties. ” Yes.”
Taking your chin in his large hand, his lips slot over yours, passionately kissing you, guiding you back on the couch until you’re flat under him.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he pulls down your shorts and panties, only breaking away to yank them off past your ankles.
He spreads your thighs with his calloused fingers, groaning at the sight of your glistening folds. “So fucking pretty,” he says to himself.
Bucky gazes into your eyes, the intense emotions lurking in his darkening blue ones have you shivering.
“You’re perfect,” he declares, sliding two fingers through you until they’re coated with your slick. “Now lemme show you’re going to be treated from now on.”
His cock twitches when he feels how soft and wet you are, the primal part of him screaming to bury his cock in your cunt.
Soon he thinks, staring raptly at you.
He shakes off the feral urges and pushes one thick finger into your tight pussy, groaning when you clamp down, quickly adding another. You’re so tight and warm and wet, barely able to handle his fingers. The thought of you stretched around his cock has him painfully hard and leaking in his gray sweatpants.
He gently pumps his fingers in you, slowly increasing his steady pace until you’re moaning. You’ve never felt so full, so good, and you know he’s only getting started.
He slips his fingers out of you, but any protest at being left empty fizzles out when he pops one in his mouth. Your belly drops when he groans out you’re sweet.
“Do you like that, bunny?” Bucky says with a soft smile, spreading you open as he teases your clit with soft swipes until you’re grinding on his hand, desperate for more friction.
You nod, glancing down at him. The look in his deep blue eyes makes your stomach sink in. He’s going to ruin you.
“Use. Your. Words.” Bucky demands with three firm taps on your clit, the sensations making you jolt in his grasp. The dominance in his baritone voice has you clenching down, the need to be filled by him is overwhelming. You need it, need him.
Swallowing thickly, you nod again, whimpering when he gives you another warning tap, jolts of electricity sparking through your limbs.
“Yes, yes, I like-oh god damn it Bucky,” you screech at the sudden intrusion of his fingers stretching your velvety walls.
Bucky smiles, “you know that filthy little mouth of yours is going to look so pretty around my cock.”
Before you can even process that because fuck yeah, you want him down your throat, he’s doing this thing with his fingers and it’s setting your nerves on fire, his wrist twisting as he pumps in and out of you.
Bucky’s studying your face, taking in the way you’re quietly gasping, your hands flat at your side. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” you breathe out. It’s true, his thick fingers feel so good inside your pussy, filling you in a way no one ever has. Damn, if you’re this stretched out from his fingers, part of you wonders how you’re going to take his cock.
Bucky doesn’t like that answer, his bottom lip rolling between his teeth as he curls his fingers. He’s not going to settle for ‘good’ he wants you crying and begging him for more. He wants you babbling incoherently until you can only whimper. Bucky wants you to feel better than good.
Bucky slows his movements, murmuring, I know bunny I know at your soft whine. He keeps dragging along your walls, he cant get over how warm and tight you are around him. “Cmon sweet girl, give it to me, give it to me,” he mutters under his breath.
Then he hits it, a soft spongy patch. His eyes flicker up at your strangled oh fuck. Your hands balling into fists and your mouth goes slack for a second. He rubs it again and you gasp. “Is that it, Bunny?” Oh, he knows it is, but he wants to hear you say, another soft press has you keening, and he decides that’s his new favorite sound.
Bucky smooths the rough pads of his fingers over your spot again. “Yeah, that’s it.” he smirks, striking it faster and harder until he’s fucking you senseless. A searing heat spreading across you with each sloppy soaked thrust back into your cunt.
“Fuck, yesyesyes,” you chant, your head lolling on the cushion. All you can focus on is his calloused fingers, pressure building, pleasure cresting inside of you, fuck fuck fuck you’re going to break, split in two if he keeps fucking you so good. “Wait, Bucky-“ you cry out, your hands grabbing at his.
Bucky chuckles with a deep sense of pride, now he’s happy, you’re falling apart before his eyes. He’s drinking in the way you’re arching off the couch, your hips grinding down as your pretty pussy sucks his fingers back. He knew you were going to be a greedy girl.
“Please, I can’t take it- “you sob, trying to slow his hand, sensations crashing into you. “Please-“
“Your pussy is going to take everything I give her,” he promises, wrapping his other hand around your thigh, he sweeps his metal thumb across your clit at the same time he hits your sweet spot. And you keen, the thin high sound pulled from your chest as he circles your aching bud, setting off a powerful wave of pleasure, your moans thundering in his ears.
“Now cum for-“ he starts, grinning as the pressure snaps, your eyes roll back in your head and blindingly bright stars cloud your vision. “Good girl,” he laughs, “there ya go, lemme feel you come on my fingers.” He fucks you even harder, pushing your orgasm higher and higher until you shatter into little pieces.
Your mouth opens in a wordless scream, the wet sloshing of your cunt filling the silent room.
“How do you feel?”
He growls at the broken whimper slipping through your lips while your body collapsing on the couch. That’s what he wanted to hear.
For a brief two seconds, you have a chance to breathe, your chest heaving as you stare at the ceiling, waiting for your vision to clear.
“Let’s see how many times you cum on my tongue before you take my cock.”
You glance down at him, your eyes widening as his fingers languidly curl over your fluttering walls. “Oh, you didn’t think that was it, did you? He tsk, his smirk growing with each slow stroke. “You deserve to cum more than once, Bunny.”
He lowers his mouth over your clit, his sinfully dark eyes gazing up at you.
“I’m about to give you every orgasm your pretty little pussy missed out on.”
6K notes · View notes
summary: While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 6.5k
warnings: dissociative episode, PTSD symptoms, winter soldier!bucky is clingy and protective af
a/n: this is based off a request I got ages ago from @visitneptune. It's not letting me tag you hun, so I hope you still see this!
Bucky stood at the mouth of the jet; the wind rustling violently around him, eager to knock him off his stance, to instill doubt into his body though it was made of stone. His left hand gripped to the handle on the wall; metal seared to metal, crystalline marble. Several hundred feet below laid the ruins of an old Hydra base; its walls coated in graffiti, the foundation left to weather, the hinges to rust. It held his empty stare.
“You sure you’re up for this?” you asked him softly under the roar of the wind. A particularly grueling gust swept through the bridge and you gripped the strap on the back of Bucky’s jacket for support. He was unwavering in its path, though he seemed to soften at your touch. He turned to you then, pressed out a weak smile and nodded.
You released your hold on his jacket, smoothing down the harness with a quick brush against his spine. He shivered as your fingertips grazed over the dip in his back and you bit your lip between your teeth. When you looked up at him again, you tried to force out a smile for him in return, but found the light would not touch your eyes.
The rush of adrenaline was still spiked high in your veins from the last time you heard Bucky scream – the agonizing break in his voice as he desperately clawed himself from the edge of nightmares Hydra had left behind. You could still see the sweat on his forehead, the rapid breaths in his chest, the fresh reflective tracks on his cheeks. You could feel him trembling in your arms, his hands begging for purchase around your body, his repetitive whispers against your neck.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
But Bucky was desperate for absolution. He had it in his mind that the only way to atone for the violence he’d done under Hydra’s thumb was to settle the score. To make amends. To undo the carnage he’d once created with every Hydra base he dismantled. He never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel toed boot that had been pressed to his neck, forcing his hand, controlling his mind, suffocating his will. He sought forgiveness for the crimes of his captors. He would not consider that his body was merely the weapon at their disposal.
He wasn’t new to missions where Hydra was at play, but he was often only able to hold it together long enough to wash the blood down the drain before the weight of it split through the cracks. You’d find him curled up on the floor of the shower, rubbing his skin raw in attempt to wash out the red stained to his hands. He wouldn’t speak a word until morning came, wouldn’t sleep for a second. But he’d allow you to hold him, to soothe a hand over his hair, to rest his head against your heart.
You never talked about it. Never named the lingering tension in the room when he crawled out from under your sheets, shamed seeped into his veins. This silent and impenetrable bond you shared. The knowledge that you could pull him from the darkest corners of his mind. That you were a safe place even when he felt the walls were crumbling around him. You never spoke of it, but it remained.
“Nat and I will head to the control room while Sam keeps the jet in the air,” Steve said, a single hand on his hip. The other gripped at the ropes to keep himself steady in face of the wind. He clenched his jaw, a reluctant look upon his face as he turned to Bucky. “Buck, I need you on the lookout for their lab. It’s not marked on the blueprints but if anyone can find it...”
Bucky nodded. No one knew for sure if this was one of the bases he’d been held in as the Winter Soldier, but you supposed it didn’t matter. They all held the same trauma, the same reminders of the horrors he’d faced. The muscle memory alone to step foot in a building where he’d been conditioned down to his bones was an act of violence within itself.
“Y/n, I want you with him,” Steve added, a knowing look shared between you. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Bucky. He was afraid for him the way you were; wanting to protect him from a world that had caused him so much pain. It was a need the both of you shared.
“What’s in this lab anyway?” you asked, changing the subject as you watched Bucky avert his gaze, pink burning in his ears.
“Samples of a pathogen Bruce thinks he can make a vaccine for,” Natasha said as she clipped her gun into the holster on her thigh.
“And they’re entrusting us to return it safely?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Nat has experience with this stuff,” Steve explained. “She’ll take care of it. Just signal on the coms when you find it. The base is empty. We’re not going to run into enemy fire.”
Your gaze flickered to Bucky. His back was to the group, his focus staring down at the abandoned Hydra base below. The metal handle had warped under his grip, outlining the shape of his fingers in smooth ridges along the surface.
You wondered then if it mattered whether the base was occupied at all; if the nightmares could still seep through the cracks in the walls and cause damage all on their own.
The door was lined with rust. Red and orange and oozing from the hinges. Bucky stared at the knob, his grip readjusting on his rifle. Steve and Natasha had already taken the north entrance, leaving Sam hovering above in the jet for a quick exit. You and Bucky remained at the south entrance. You watched him carefully, studying the tension in his shoulders, the reflection of gold weaving delicately along his left arm as the metal plates flexed. He was so still you wondered if he was even breathing.
“Bucky?” you called, setting a hand on his forearm. You walked out ahead of him, trying to meet his eye. The contact usually grounded him when he could not hear your voice through the mess inside his head, the numbness. You brushed your thumb gingerly along the vibranium edges. “Are you with me?”
He nodded, shaking himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry. Just need a moment.”
He looked as though he needed more than just a moment. A lifetime, perhaps, before he would ever be able to set foot in a Hydra base without some remnants of his own trauma clawing at the back of his neck, sinking talons into his muscle and yanking him to the depths.
“No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out,” you told him sincerely, eyeing the quinjet hovering over your heads. “I could get Sam to come down and—”
“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, yanking his arm away from your hold. It startled you enough to step back a few paces, your hands burning as heat rushed to your cheeks. But as quick as it came, the sudden hardness of his features washed away when he noticed the hurt upon your face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking another step back to give him space. He glanced towards you, an unreadable expression in his features, though it made you wonder whether the space had been a relief for him at all. He clenched his jaw, turning back to the rusted door. He kicked hit boot to the weakest spot in the frame, near the hinges, and the door slammed to the ground. Broken entirely from the walls around it. Dust smoked up from the floor from where it crashed to the cement and exposed a dark, windowless hall behind it.
“Maybe we can watch that series you’ve been wanting to show me when we get home?” Bucky offered softly, inching closer to you as if the space between you was too much to bear. He pushed out a smile; one you knew took most of his effort to produce in witness to the building that could have been the one to rip him to pieces. It touched his eyes, left lines in its wake. It was beautiful.
“Deal,” you grinned, nudging his side until he started to laugh. The meaning of such a sound amongst the horrors of these halls was not lost on you. It echoed through the corridors and touched the cobwebs hanging in the corner. Its ghosts may have been the ones to hear his screams once.
Bucky took the lead. Even amongst the baron halls, he positioned himself as a shield between you and the darkness ahead. His wide frame took up most of the narrow hallway, his stance cautious to keep you protected at his back. Every so often, his ear flexed at the sound of your steady breathing, the shuffle of your shoes over the debris upon the floors. It was like he was fighting the urge to turn over his shoulder once more to confirm with his own eyes that you were safe behind him. He continued on, deeper into the darkness as fingers flexed against his rifle; his steps undetectable.
You passed by dozens of emptied rooms with dark stains upon the concrete and shackles molded to the wall. Bucky didn’t speak as his gaze trailed along the reinforced cells and the ghosts they carried. Tension etched into his muscle the further he walked.
A shiver burrowed into your spine as you kept your pace close to Bucky’s stride – close enough that you brushed against his shoulder blades every so often. It had been a comfort at first, drawing away the stone in his spine, but then after a while he began to bristle at the contact, almost as if he’d forgotten you were behind him, before he eased again, relaxing into your touch.
You’d been walking through the maze of hallways for nearly ten minutes before either of you spoke.
“Do you recognize this place?” you asked cautiously when Bucky took a right turn down an adjoining hall. He hadn’t even stopped to consider his path. It was as if he were following a memory.
He shook his head, a contemplative look on his face. Still, his attention turned down the corridor like he was being drawn towards it. He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But something’s telling me to go this way.”
You didn’t question whether it was the lab beckoning him or something else, something more dangerous. Instead, you set a comforting hand on his forearm and gave a short squeeze. A pained smile pressed on his lips as he stared down at your hand, how your thumb so sweetly ran along the thick material of his jacket. When you released him, he took in a heavy breath and continued on.
You followed him in silence until you neared the end of the hall. The lighting became progressively dimmer, the bulbs flickering in their disuse. Bugs scrawled along the edges of the walls, scampering through piles of dust and dirt. You held back a shiver as you kept as close to Bucky as you could.
It was as if the walls themselves were molding his body to marble with every step further into their maze. His back tightened, his spine straightened. His breathing became shallow to the point you could no longer hear his careful inhales. But something in him relaxed despite the tension in his body. You were about to call his name when suddenly, he turned sharply into an open room.
The door was lined in dozens of steel bolts and reinforced locks. It looked to be in pristine condition in comparison to the rest of the building. From a short glance inside, it was evident that this room was not the lab Steve sent you in search of. It was lined with cement, void of any furniture, let alone laboratory equipment. It was completely empty, save for the shackles fused into the furthest wall.
It was a cell.
You furrowed your brows as you followed Bucky into the baron room. He didn’t look around, didn’t so much as turn in your direction. Instead, he stilled at the center of the room, his back to you. You swallowed, though it tasted of copper.
“Bucky?” you called nervously. “What are we doing in here?"
As you stepped further into the room, you noticed the dent on the inside of the door. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you reached out and touched the caved in metal, drawing your fingers along the perfect imprint of a fist. No one else could have had the strength to cause that kind of damage except—
“Bucky?” you tried again, panic starting to lace into your voice. He was standing too still, too quiet. He didn’t so much as move a single muscle at the sound of his own name. His posture was too rigid, too formal. It reminded you of— oh God.
You took a single step towards him, the heel of your boot softly tapping to the concrete and suddenly, Bucky whipped around to face you. His expression was cold; void of the man you knew him to be; absent of the smile you drew out of him on the edge of this dreadful building. In one fluid movement, he raised the barrel of his rifle and unlatched the safety. There was no time to panic, no time to call his name, to so much as raise your hands in defense.
Eyes screwed shut, lungs burning. There was a deafening ringing in your ears, pulsing deep into the back of your head, obstructing your balance. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Bucky lowering his rifle to his side, the same vacant look in his expression staring at something beyond your shoulder.
“--company!” Steve’s voice suddenly cracked through the coms. “We’ve got company!”
You followed Bucky’s vacant stare to the body currently lying in the hallway. A man laid upon the threshold to the room, a shotgun in hand and a Hydra insignia affixed to his lapel. Blood pooled into the concrete, inching along the floor towards you. You hadn’t even known he was there, that he was just seconds away from firing a shot to the back of your head. The man’s finger was still curled around the trigger. You inched closer to Bucky.
“Y/n? Bucky? Someone report!”
Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s frame as he remained impossibly still. Not even his breaths seemed to rise against his chest. His stare was etched to the door, his eyes absent of the fear he once carried in these halls. They were coated in something darker – an oncoming of stormy skies masked under an ominous grey fog. Obstructing him. Confining him. A terrifying state of peace within the submission. Bite nestled to your tongue and you swallowed it—the burn of acid dripping down your throat.
“Bucky?” you begged, desperate to believe this place hadn’t undone him down to his bones. He didn’t so much as blink. You gritted your teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache and you forced out a name you swore you would never utter aloud—
It was barely a whisper, the most you could possibly manage, and still— Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. When vacant, blue eyes met yours, you bit down hard enough to draw blood, your hand trembling as you reached up and touched the warm coat of blood against your lip. He furrowed his brow, studying your reaction and the utter desolation painted over your features.
“If you don’t respond, I’m coming to get you!” Steve warned through the coms. His voice pulled you away from the fog threatening to consume you whole as you stared at the shell Bucky had slipped into. Steve was panting, out of breath, a grunt through the speakers as a heavy thud fell to the floor.
Tears burned in your eyes as you cleared your throat, raising a finger to your coms.
“We’re okay,” you said slowly, not daring to take your eyes off Bucky for even a second. “We’re safe but... something happened, Steve. Bucky’s not himself.”
There was only a short pause. One where Bucky’s eyes centered on you, trailing over your frame as it were for the first time. They slid down the line of your suit, over your thighs to your boots, then back up along your hips to your arms. They lingered over a faded bruise on your cheekbone – one you’d sustained in a mission in the previous week against a rather unpleasant arms dealer in Slovakia. The muscle in his jaw flexed, his hands curled tight into fists.
Slowly, his eyes returned to yours. They didn’t carry the weight you recognized, the years filled with shame and guilt and burden, but they held a heaviness nonetheless. Deep blue as the depths of the ocean, coated in such darkness the sunlight could not hope to reach. They were the eyes of a man who knew what it was to be punished for disobeying orders, who recognized those who had caused him harm, who could identify those who would keep him safe.
The Soldier was not an empty shell. He was not simply a weapon for Hydra to dispose. He was living and breathing and impossibly real. Stripped down to the very threads that kept him human. Removed of his memories, of his past. Tortured for his mistakes. Kept in a cage like an animal. Taught to be silent, to expect fear, to follow orders.
This was not the Winter Soldier as you remembered him on the bridge, in the sky above D.C., in Vienna. Humanity was slipping through; though it was small, subtle. It was only when his gaze flickered briefly back to the bruise on your cheek and his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be rage, that you realized what had happened.
The man before you was the broken shards of who Bucky had been inside this cell – somewhere between the Winter Soldier and the prisoner of war. Too far gone from the Sergeant who held out as long as he could and miles away from the Bucky who turned on the kettle for you in the morning before you woke up, who indulged your ridiculous list of must-watch movies, who curled against you in the middle of the night when the monsters plagued his dreams.
A purgatory within his own mind.
“Y/n!” Steve called panicked through the coms. “Get out of there! We don’t know what he could do if he—”
“I don’t think he’ll hurt me, Steve,” you replied evenly, holding Bucky’s gaze. “He shot a Hydra agent before I even knew they were there. He saved my life.”
Bucky’s attention snapped to the door, his hand flexing against his rifle. You followed his eye line, unsure of what he must have heard, but with his advanced senses you knew better than to question him.
Slowly, he stepped out in front of you, holding an arm behind him to keep you centered behind his back. Your heart fractured as you realized he was shielding you. Even stripped down to basic instinct, muddled by the horrors of what Hydra had inflicted upon him, he still chose to protect you.
“Get him back to the jet,” Steve ordered, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice, even as he engaged in direct combat with enemy agents. “We’ll secure him there. Be careful.”
You nodded, trying to gather your courage though it felt impossibly far away. You were about to reach for Bucky’s forearm when you stopped yourself, quickly yanking your hand back against your chest and you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. You had no idea how the Winter Soldier would react to such an intrusion, especially given what you remembered about how Bucky first responded to touch – how he’d flinch away from it as if he’d been expecting pain. The Soldier didn’t know to expect anything less.
“Soldat,” you called firmly, mimicking the tone of the Soldier’s handlers. He straightened his spine, turning his head to you, awaiting orders. You inhaled a shaken breath, struggling to meet his eye. “I need you to get us out of here. Both of us. Do you understand?”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at your emphasis, though slowly he nodded. You had no idea how many Hydra agents crawled out from behind the woodwork or what to expect when you stepped into the hallway. But the Soldier needed a mission. He needed orders to follow. You weren’t sure whether he would go willingly without them.
Bucky eased out into the hall, a cautious glance behind his shoulder as if to make sure you were following close behind. You gave him a short nod and he turned back to the end of the hall; his rifle gripped tight to his grasp. You attempted to peer around his shoulder to get better leverage and provide coverage, but then—
An arm snaked around your neck, clamped down against your windpipe and yanked you backwards. You gasped for breath – the strangled sound alerting Bucky to your distress as you desperately clawed at the arm around your neck, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.
Bucky whipped around, rage quickly burning as the blue in his eyes reduced in thin, cerulean rings. You met his gaze, air obstructed as you choked against the man’s grip, and still – you saw a world of panic breaking through the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.
You quickly elbowed the assailant in the ribs and he released your throat, doubling over in pain. It was enough time for Bucky to fire a single shot once you ducked clear out of view, sinking to the ground as your hands darted at your throat in search of air. You only vaguely recognized the sound of the body thudding behind you as you began to cough violently, blood spilling from your lips.
“You’re hurt,” Bucky murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. He was kneeling at your eye line, his brows furrowed and drawing worry lines over his forehead. His voice didn’t sound his like his own – too hesitant, too quiet. Longing and terrified and filled with unbridled rage all at once.
“M’okay,” you choked out, though your voice was rough, as if it has been tossed through a blender and dragged over sandpaper until it bled.
Bucky’s hand reached out to you, gently pushing the hair away from your eyes with the lightest feather of a touch. You stilled as the very tips of his fingers grazed gently over your skin, watching him as he studied the markings on your neck. An impossible moment amongst the chaos in the distance. The humanity of the Winter Soldier breaking through. His upper lip twitched as his fingers touched the discoloration on your neck. His jaw wired shut, a twitch in his upper lip, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand again. He fired another four shots into the dead body on your right.
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you told him, gathering his face in your hands, urging him to meet your eye. You drew your thumbs along his cheekbones until he finally forced his gaze back to you. He was breathing heavy, the rage spilling through the cracks in his surface until you said again, “I’m okay.”
A wash of relief coated his features for only a moment. Then, he nodded, almost as if to shake himself of the emotion he was not allowed to express. The lines on his face faded into the façade, the stone cold expression returning and wiping away the traces of the man underneath. Without saying a word, he stood back to his feet and waited patiently for you to follow.
By the time you made it outside, Steve and Natasha were standing by the mouth of the quinjet, weapons at the ready. They were both covered in open cuts and bruises, red seeping into their uniforms and coloring their skin. Natasha was leaning against the edge of the ramp, barely holding herself up, though she started to relax upon spotting you.
Bucky froze at the sight of their weapons and you collided into his back. He pulled out his gun.
“No! Stop!” You rushed out in front of him, holding your hands up defensively. “They’re friends! They won’t hurt us.”
You stared down the barrel of his rifle, counting each agonizing heartbeat as you waited for him to lower his weapon. You didn't know why, but the Soldier was drawn to you, connected to you in some way that he protected you without a second thought. It was his mission. His only directive. It wasn’t one you’d given him, but still—it remained.
His eyes flickered to you, unsure. You gave him a gentle reassuring nod and slowly, Bucky lowered the gun.
“Y/n?” Steve called hesitantly.
“I’ve got him, Steve,” you replied over your shoulder. “He’s okay.”
“He’s not triggered, not like you think,” you explained as calmly as you could manage. You could sense Bucky eyeing Steve, his hand flexing against his weapon, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to believe Steve was someone you needed protection from. “I don’t know what happened, but one minute he’s Bucky and the next he’s...” You sighed, glancing back at Bucky’s rigid posture. “Something in that base fractured him; awoke this part of him again. It’s a defense mechanism. He’ll come out of it, Steve. Give him time.”
Steve's gaze flickered to Bucky before returning to you. “Last time you met the Winter Soldier, he almost killed you.”
Triggered under Zemo’s twisted plan to draw a line between the Avengers, Bucky had once shot a bullet clean through your stomach. You could still picture the cold look in his eyes as he stood over you, readying for the kill shot as you laid frozen on the floor in a pool of your own blood. You’d never felt fear quite like that – the certain knowledge that you would not survive. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s intervention, you would have been dead.
It was before you knew Bucky. Before you loved him.
Maybe you were naïve, but something had changed in the Soldier since then. Perhaps, the same thing that changed in Bucky.
“I’ll be alright, Steve. He won’t hurt me.” You eased your hand in Bucky’s direction, urging him to holster his weapon. He did and you hoped it was because he trusted you, not because he saw you as his handler. You sighed, turning to Steve. “I’ll take care of him. Just trust me with this. Please.”
“Okay,” Steve sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “But I have to secure him. For everyone’s safety, including his.”
"Let me,” you offered quickly, unsure of how Bucky would react to Steve trying to restrain him. “He’ll take it better if I do it.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
No. You weren’t sure of anything; not with Bucky locked in this state. But you told him you were anyway.
“Soldat,” you called, turning away from the flash of surprise on Steve’s face as you turned to Bucky. “Follow me.”
You turned up the bridge of the jet, walking past Natasha and keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t want to see whether she was disappointed with you for feeding into Hydra’s conditioning to keep Bucky compliant. You were only trying to keep him safe, to get him through this in one piece. He’d come out of it eventually. You kept telling yourself that, though you were never entirely convinced.
Bucky hovered behind you, keeping close despite the wide berth of the jet. You gestured to a seat along the side wall of the plane and Bucky sat down. You knelt down beside him, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs from under the seat. The team kept them on hand for the varying occasion when they needed to restrain enhanced individuals or Norse Gods. They’d work on Bucky, too.
“I’m going to put these on you, okay?” you told him, watching for any resistance. But Bucky didn’t move. He only watched you, following the metallic flicker of the handcuffs as you gently fastened them to his wrists. The center affixed to a chain connected to the floor of the plane. He didn’t move a single muscle.
You sighed, brushing at your eyes as you crawled up to sit in the seat beside him. You never wanted to see him in chains, never wanted to be the one to secure the metal around his wrists, but there was a trust within it. A trust that you would undo the locks, that you would protect him while he was vulnerable to attack the same way he protected you. But you couldn’t read Bucky when he was like this. You had no idea what he was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all.
“What about the mask?”
You blinked, thrown by his voice. Rough, unused. Unsure. He was watching you curiously, studying the stunned look of disbelief on your face, and you quickly shook your head.
“No mask,” you said simply, though you could feel the lump building in your throat. It was more of a muzzle than anything else – used to silence him, to humiliate him, to make him feel like a weapon of their own making and destroy any last thread of humanity he was clinging to. You could barely picture it without tears blurring your vision.
“Just try to relax, okay?” you told him. “We’ll be home soon.”
He raised an eyebrow at the mention of home, but your heart was too broken to explain any further. He didn’t ask. You supposed he was trained not to.
By the time you landed hours later, Bucky still wasn’t himself. Sam was the one to reluctantly suggest you bring Bucky to a holding cell until he came to again, but you feared that would only make it worse. It was a cell that triggered this state, you didn’t expect a cell would bring him out of it.
Steve and Natasha landed the jet away from most of the crew so you could guide Bucky away from the crowd without anyone noticing the handcuffs on his wrists. Steve threw a jacket over Bucky’s hands to hide the restraints and gave you the key.
“You call me the second it turns bad,” he ordered, a cautious look thrown in Bucky’s direction.
You nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve’s hand. He sighed at that, the tension coursing painfully through his body. “It won’t, Steve. But I promise I’ll call if I need you.”
Steve didn’t seem any more convinced but you could see the longing for hope in his eyes; how badly he wanted to believe you, how badly he wanted his friend back. He gave you a tight smile and nodded, stepping back.
“Come with me,” you told Bucky and he followed without question, trailing behind submissively and it left an awful pang in your stomach. As you stepped down onto the loading bay, you moved to walk in line with him. “I don’t know how much you recognize but no one here is an enemy, okay? We’re safe. I promise I’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of sight.”
Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see his eyes flickering to the sparse agents he passed by as if he were sizing them up, deciding how best to engage with his hands bound. He watched your every move, flinched as a head popped up in your direction as you approached, winced as your name was called in greeting from across the hall, shivered under the steady blow of the air conditioning above. He was on constant edge.
“Oh, hey guys!” Scott Lang jumped out from the elevator before you could press the button. Bucky jolted to step in front of you, blocking you from the perceived enemy who was likely the least dangerous man in the compound. Scott still had Cheeto dust on his fingers.
“Ah, I get it, I get it,” Scott laughed, hands raised in the air playfully as he backed up. “I’m happily in a relationship, my man. Hope may be way out of my league but I’m still in it, okay? You don’t have to worry about me snatching up your girl.”
You smiled, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder blades and easing your fingers down his spine. It was something you did for him to help him calm down when you didn’t want to draw attention to his distress. You hoped it might work on the Soldier, too. Sure enough, he began to relax. You stepped out from behind Bucky.
“Don’t mind him,” you told Scott with a casual shrug. “He’s just a bit on guard. Rough mission.”
Scott nodded in understanding, his lips pressing to thin line. “Totally get it. My bad, man. But hey! I’ll see you for poker on Saturday, right?”
“He’ll be there,” you replied, answering for Bucky whose gaze looked as though he could pierce daggers straight through Lang’s chest. You guided Bucky in the elevator and quickly tapped on your floor, hitting the button several times until the doors eventually closed. Once you were alone, you slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh.
When the floor dinged, you straightened to find Bucky watching you. You were sure whether it was curiosity or concern in his eyes as they followed you into the hall.
“The team knows to leave this floor alone until I give them the okay,” you said, gesturing for Bucky’s hands. He held them up for you and you removed Steve’s jacket and tossed it to the couch. Then, you unlocked each of the cuffs and set them on the table.
Bucky rubbed his hand over the reddened skin on his right wrist. You winced at the burn mark.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I closed them that tight.” You reached for him and you were surprised when he didn’t pull away. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, soothing the cool press of your palms against the irritated skin. He closed his eyes, sighing at the touch.
“Come on.” You eased Bucky to the couch, though you did not lose contact with his wrist. You sat down, sinking into the cushions and gently tugged him down beside you. He was uncomfortable, a little out of place, but you hoped the familiarity might be enough to sink in.
His posture was rigid beside you as you turned on the television and began to search for one of his favorite movies. You were so used to Bucky sliding in next to you, closing the gaps between you without ever acknowledging the comfort of laying in each other’s arms. Now, he sat with his back straight, his hands planted firmly in his lap. He looked as though he didn’t know what to do with the deep-set cushions and the pillows surrounding him.
Bucky looked around, his eyes skirting over the furniture, the television, the window view of the lake down the way, and then—to you. He paused, his features softening.
“I know you, don’t I?”
You clenched your jaw, fighting tears. You nodded.
“I know this place,” he continued, his voice a quiet whisper, as if he was worried who might overhear. “These people, too.”
“Yes, you do,” you confirmed gently. Panic began to wash over his features and you inched closer to him, setting your hand on his forearm. “It will come back to you, Bucky. I promise. Give it some time. I’ll be here when it does.”
His eyes drew down to where you touched him, where your hand gently squeezed his forearm, your thumb brushing tenderly over the lining of his jacket. He watched you as if you’d never done that before, like he’d never experience such kindness in a touch.
It wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down and the room coated in the comforting tones of the stars and moonlight beyond the window, the flash of the television illuminating the kitchen behind you, that Bucky finally spoke again.
You jolted up from your position, your cheek imprinted with the lines of his jacket. You hadn’t realized how close you were to nodding off, how much you’d leaned against his body and relied on his comfort, even in this state. But something was different as he wrung his hands in his lap, twisting around metal fingers and reddening the skin of his right hand.
Bucky swallowed nervously, lowering his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
He was expecting you to withdrawal, to be angry for the burden he’d placed upon you, but instead, all you could feel was relief. You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face to the crook of his neck. He held his arms out to the side, as if he were unsure if his own touch was wanted, until slowly, he allowed himself to hold you.
“Are you okay?” you asked against his collar, unable to pull away for even a moment.
Bucky sighed. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”
You swallowed nervously. “How much do you remember?”
“All of it.”
You stilled; breath caught in your chest. Memory of the dehumanizing name still present on your tongue. “I’m sorry that I—that I called you—”
“It’s okay,” Bucky eased, his breath warm to the crown of your head. “You did what you had to. You got me out. I could have... I could have hurt you.”
“No,” you shook your head, determined. “You saved me, Bucky. Hell, you even tried to protect me from Scott. All you did was protect me.”
Bucky nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. “I guess even in that state I knew.”
“Knew what?” you asked, looking up at him.
Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “That I could trust you with my life. That I would always protect you with it, too.”
You smiled at him, easing your hand against his cheek. Your thumb brushed sweetly over his cheekbone, your palm against the stubble on his jaw. Even as darkness clouded over him, even when he was lost to the confines of his own mind – he would find he way back to you.
He’d come home.
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𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀
summary┃when your car breaks down on the side of the road and your dad can’t come rescue you, he sends the next best thing.
pairing┃dadsbestfriend!bucky x f!reader
word count┃ 2,434 words
warnings┃significant age gap [reader in 20′s, bucky in late 30′s], car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, sloppy sex, bucky teases you a lot, thigh riding, pet-names, fingering, finger sucking, size kink, metal arm kink, praise kink, slight edging, bucky finishing in you, talk of masturbation [in passing] — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃if i see you plagiarize my work i will personally steal all of your left shoes and right socks
“I don’t know, the engine made a sound and now it won’t start.” You groaned into your phone, your dad sighing on the other end of the line as you leaned your head against your seat.
“Can you get it into a mechanic?” He asked as you rolled your eyes, “considering it won’t start, I don’t think so.”
You were just outside of town, almost making it home before your piece of shit car decided to crap out on you and die.
“I’m stuck in the office until seven, but I’ll get Bucky to pick you up, okay?” Your dad said, shuffling on the other end of the line as your heart dropped into your stomach at the sound of his name.
“Bucky?” Your throat was suddenly dry, heart hammering as you could hear it’s reverberation in your ears like the sound of waves in a shell.
“He’s good with cars too, might even be able to bring your car back to life long enough to get it into a mechanic.” Your dad’s voice was calm and collected, unlike the way your breathing was.
“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s really nice of him.” You tried to act normal, like nothing was wrong.
Like Bucky hadn’t fucked you the bathroom of some gross college bar during your last year just a months ago.
You hadn’t seem him since. Last you heard, he had set off on a solo trip to California as he kissed you on the cheek at the end of the night.
With his cum staining your thighs.
And the scent of him on your shirt as you watched him walk out of the bar.
Now he was going to come and rescue you from the side of the some dirt road.
“You there, sweetie?” Your dads voice brings you back to reality as you shake your head, “yeah, yeah, sorry. The reception’s spotty,” you lie right through your teeth.
“Hang in there, sweetie, okay? Bucky shouldn’t take longer than 20 minutes.” Oh good, at least you’ll have time to prepare yourself for the moment you’d see him again.
“Okay, thanks dad. I’ll see you soon then.” You both say your goodbyes before the line goes dead and you’re left staring at the nearly desolate road as the occasional car or semi roars by.
It’s getting late but thankfully it’s the dead of summer which means that it would be impossible to get cold, even with the sun down.
No matter how hard you tried not to think about Bucky, the memories of that night came flooding back with each gust of warm air.
The way his fingers danced up your shirt as he pressed you against the dingy bathroom wall.
The way he bent the bathroom door handle at an angle that would lock the two of you in there for some privacy—the sparks of gold and shining black flashing through your mind.
The way he found all your sweet spots and the way he would call you Kid to egg you on as you took shots with him until you were dizzy.
And the way he made you cum harder than ever before until you had no more breath left in your lungs.
You had to shake yourself free of those thoughts, the familiar burn forming between your legs as you decided to pop your hood to see if you could magically figure out what had gone wrong.
It all looked so foreign, like a different language as you stared at the various car parts—the only thing you recognized was where you re-filled your windshield fluid.
A rumbling engine caused you to peek your head around the hood of your car to watch that familiar Impala pulling up right behind your car.
Your heart kicked in your chest, throat going dry as your hands were suddenly clammy watching him step out of the car.
Dressed in all black, Bucky shut the door of his car as he took his sunglasses off and tucked them in the front of his shirt.
“I gotta say,” his voice is so much deeper than you remembered, “this isn’t how I thought we’d be meetin’ again.”
He smirks, coming to stand beside you to look under the hood, “if it makes you feel better, neither did I.”
Your words make him chuckle as he turns his body to face you, arms over his thick chest and the early evening sun bouncing off of the prosthetic.
The same fingers that were knuckle deep inside of you, coaxing sweet, sweet moans as you fell over the edge more times than you can count.
“Your car battery is dead,” he says, after a quick inspection—arms propping himself on the hood as he uses the shiny metallic hand to point at the battery, “it looks like it’s been leakin’ for a while. How old is the battery?”
His question strikes you and suddenly you feel embarrassed and useless, “I don’t know.”
He shifts again, tucking his finger under your chin so you look up at him. His eyes are soft and you find yourself lost in them.
“It’s okay, Kid, was just askin’. Unfortunately I don’t have any cables, even if I did, it looks pretty lifeless.” He explains, finger dropping from under your chin and you want to whimper.
You nod your head, “thanks, Buck.”
You don’t even register that you call him that, “uh, sorry. I mean, Mr. Barnes.”
Now that makes him laugh, holler even as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Please don’t call me Mr. Barnes, Sugar.” He says, the familiar pet-name doing nothing to alleviate the ache between your thighs.
“Why not?” You ask, genuinely curious as he takes a step towards you.
You’d also forgotten how much bigger Bucky was, in more than one way. He towered over you, remembering how he easily had you lifted and pinned against the wall as fuck fucked into you.
“'Cause,” he smirks, “I’ve heard you moan my name and I don’t wanna hear it any other way.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat, a gasp replacing it as you feel the familiar prick of goosebumps over your skin.
“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.” He adds nonchalantly as you were still repeating his words in your mind.
He looks at you for a moment longer before brushing past you, “it’s gettin’ dark.”
You managed to unfreeze, legs moving from under you as you grabbed your duffle bag and whatever other miscellaneous objects from your car before tossing them in the back of Bucky’s car.
“Nice car,” you comment as you slide into the worn leather seats. Bucky smirks, turning the engine over as it roars to life.
“Thanks, Kid.” There it was again, the same taunt he used as you both downed a shot of tequila.
“Don’t call me that, I’m not a kid,” you weren’t mad, the slight smirk on your face was telling enough as Bucky put the car into neutral.
He leaned back, thick thighs spread as he put his arm over the back of the seats, “I jus’ missed that pout of yours, Sugar.”
You didn’t even realize you were pouting until Bucky pointed it out, dark eyes watching you as you relaxed into the seat.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about this on the drive home to my father’s house.” You mumble, trying to contain the faint smile on your lips as Bucky leans into you.
“I don’t think havin’ my cock buried deep inside of you was very appropriate either, but you didn’t seem to mind,” he purrs, fingers falling onto the back of your neck.
A shudder travels down your spine when you feel his hand tighten around the base of your neck.
“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ ‘bout you, Sugar, you know that?” His voice drops an octave as the rumbling of the car’s engine make your pussy jump.
“You haven’t?” You whisper out, moving closer to him as he turns his body towards you.
“Havin’ my hand wrapped ‘round my own cock just doesn’t feel as nice as your tight pussy.” He hums, feeling his dick jumping in his pants.
“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ of your sweet moans, or the way your mouth felt ‘round my cock,” his smirk is darker now, cock growing in his jeans as you let out a soft moan.
“Bucky, we-we,” you can’t even find the words, “this is so wrong.”
He hums, thumb tracing over your bottom lip, “then why does it feel so fuckin’ good?” He growls, tugging you into his lap as you let him, giving into the way his warm body feels against you.
You can feel him under you, his fingers instinctively digging into your hips as yours go to his broad shoulders so you can steady yourself.
“Tell me you haven’t thought of me,” he smirks, “that you haven’t touched that tight cunt of yours wishing it was my fingers or cock.”
You gasp, wetness pooling in your panties as you let out a whine, “Bucky.”
“Mmm, that’s what I thought, Sugar. My poor girl,” he hums, slowly rocking your hips over his with more fervour.
“Did I ruin men for you? Is that what this is ‘bout?” He taunts, holding your face in between his fingers as you’re forced to look at him.
You can see the lines in his forehead, pupils blown with lust as you’re able to pick out the grey hairs littered between the dark brunet ones.
“Your cock sure as hell did,” you pant, tangling your fingers in his hair and pressing your lips over his as he lets out a low grunt.
The kiss is messy, and you revel in the familiar taste of coffee and spearmint as your tongue glides against his along with the occasional bump of your teeth against his.
“You better start thinkin’ of excuses as to why you’re late ‘cause I’m about to fuck you,” he snarls, lips trailing down your neck as he sinks them into your sensitive skin.
“Grind yourself over my thigh, Sugar. Get yourself nice ‘n ready.” He smirks, hands already up the shirt you were wearing playing with your breasts.
Who are you to deny yourself the pleasure of riding Bucky’s thigh, the fabric of your jeans against your pussy mixed with the hard muscle causes a sweet friction that makes you mewl.
“Missed that sound, baby. Missed the way you felt, the way you tasted,” his lips are over yours, “but most of all, missed the way my cock fit perfectly ‘side you.”
Bucky had a way with words, knowing exactly how to make you come apart and that is what made him absolutely lethal.
He was like a wave that you rode, getting you high and wet and then slipping right through your fingers.
“Lie down,” he grunts, “on the seat.” It’s a messy and incredibly tight fit, but the couch-like seat allowed you get your back flat as Bucky shuffled in between your legs.
With some struggle, Bucky managed to get your pants down past your ass, your fingers quickly undoing his belt as you freed his cock.
“Fuck,” you gasped as he smirked, “what? Forgot how big I was?” He purrs, cradling your face, “it fit last time, it’ll fit today.”
You wanna chide back, think of a smart, witty remark, but your mind goes blank with lust and need.
“Not so fast, Sugar,” he cooes, “gotta warm you up first.” The fucking tease.
You whimper when you feel his fingers at your entrance, cock heavy against your hip as he slides a single finger in. It’s not enough, not by a long-shot as your walls warm up the cool metal.
“Bucky, please c’mon,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. It does nothing but make him chuckle.
“You know I love hearin’ you beg, that’ll jus’ slow me down,” you nearly throw a fit, as he slowly curls the single finger deep inside of you.
He’s relentless, finally adding a second finger and hooking them against your g-spot. It causes your toes to curl and the heat to grow in your belly—but he never gives you the satisfaction.
Instead, he pulls them out, tapping them against your lips, “clean ‘em.”
A shudder rolls over your body, lips parting to take the heavy digits in your mouth as you maintain eye contact with Bucky.
You’ve always wondered if he can feel those fingers, but the groan he gives you answers your question.
“Good girl, missed that ‘bout you,” he praises, running his cock through your folds as you squeak out a gasp at the sudden pressure against your clit.
There’s not warning as he slides in, slow and long as he holds himself up on his forearms; warm breath fanning across your face.
“Feel so fuckin’ good,” his eyes flutter closed as he bottoms out, nostrils flaring when he takes a deep breath trying to control himself.
It’s unfair, the way he knows you’re body.
There’s no taking his time, you’re parked on the side of the road with Bucky balls deep inside of you. He’s fucking you and he’s fucking you good.
The car shakes, suspension squeaking as he thrusts into you; the strokes much deeper from the confined space.
“You have no idea how good you feel, Sugar,” he grunts, pelvis bumping your clit as you throw your head back deeper into the seats.
Everything around you smells like leather, sex, and Bucky.
Your abdomen tightens as your toes curl and—“that’s it, gonna cum for me, make a fuckin’ mess.”
There’s nothing you can do to hold back your orgasm. It hits you like the truck that speeds past the parked car and you let out a choked gasp of Bucky’s name.
You’re both panting, everything is a mess and you’re wondering just how you’ll have to act as if Bucky’s cum isn’t leaking into the panties you’re wearing.
“I haven’t come that hard since,” he chuckles, “well since that night at the bar.”
You can do nothing but smile, butterflies in your tummy as he helps you sit up, both of you awkwardly wiggling back into your jeans.
It’s silent, but not uncomfortable as Bucky pushes down on the brake and shifts into drive. The moves forward a few metres before there’s a powering down sound and the engine splutters.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you laugh, turning to face Bucky who can’t stop laughing.
“Well it looks like we’re both stranded now,” he winks, pulling you into the slightly larger backseat, “might as well find a way to kill the time.”
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𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
summary: john walker is flirting with you in front of bucky and he won't take it
pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader
word count: 2k
warnings: john walker (yes, he is a warning), jealous!bucky, some angst, fluff.
english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
You snorted as you dropped between Bucky and Sam, your gaze on everything but the big jerk dressed as Steve sitting across from you. And by the time the vehicle started to move, you knew that you had regretted getting into it in the first place.
"You know we just saved your asses, right?" John Walker, the clown himself, questioned, shooting you an almost mocking look.
"We had everything under control." You replied dryly, finally joining your gaze with his blue one, crossing your arms over your chest. You frowned when you saw how he blatantly moved his eyes from your face to your chest and vice versa, and Bucky could see it too as he immediately tensed sitting next to you.
"And if 'having everything under control' means getting your butt kicked out, of course, you had everything under control." John joked, but seeing that none of the three invited passengers smiled at his words, he sighed. "We're on the same team, guys, c'mon. I don't know why you act like you hate us."
"We're not on the same team, man." Sam was quick to reply, as calm as ever. You found it incredible that he could maintain his composure even in such stressful situations.
"And we do hate you." Bucky added, you nodded at his words.
"My point is, we could work well on the same side." John leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees and by the time his eyes landed on you, you knew some disgusting statement was coming. "And we could use an avenger of your caliber, sweetheart." You raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "You have a hell of potential, but I can see you don't work well with these two. Maybe you're on the wrong team."
John smiled widely when he saw a smile rise on your lips as well and when you approached him, he approached as well.
"Uh, I wouldn't recommend doing that." Sam muttered under his breath seeing John's closeness to you.
"I'm going to give you two seconds to retract all the bullshit you just said if you don't want a broken nose." You said in a low tone against his ear still with that dark smile on your lips and Bucky smiled totally satisfied at Walker's expression, who looked truly terrified for a couple of seconds.
Your lover's vibranium hand rested gently on your thigh, trying to calm you down, which worked almost automatically. He knew how much the subject of the shield and Steve affected you, even as much as him.
The fake Captain America cleared his throat, straightening his body to sit well. "Look, I'm not trying to replace anyone, okay?"
"Oh, so is that why you're dressed exactly as Steve Rogers?" Sam answered wryly, raising his eyebrows at him.
"I'm not Steve Rogers, I'm Captain America."
Sam, Bucky and you laughed, the three of you looking at Walker in disbelief.
"You know that carrying that shield around doesn't make you Captain America, right?" You questioned in a cold tone.
Bucky, still with his hand on your thigh, dedicated himself to gaze intently with narrowed eyes at who, until now, had easily proven worthy of being his potential enemy. He quick noticed how John Walker's disgusting eyes traveled over your body, sometimes stopping at cuts that had ripped open your suit from the previous fight.
And God he wanted to break his therapist's rule number two so badly.
John Walker finally glanced at Sam, pointing at the super soldier with a movement of his fingers. "He always stares like that?"
"You get used to it." Sam replied calmly and proceeded to shrug. "And man, you've been flirting with his girl in front of his eyes all this time, do it a little while longer and I assure you it will be more than a stare."
"I confirm that." Bucky agreed with a darkly ironic look, giving Walker an even darker smile, almost looking like psycho.
John sighed for almost the tenth time in the hour, looking truly defeated. "If you guys joined us, this would be a lot easier for everyone." His blue eyes traveled over the hate-filled faces of the trio of passengers in front of him. "I know it's a complicated subject, but with Falcon, Diamondback, and the Winter Soldier we could― "
You quickly interrupted him in a warning tone, your eyebrows furrowing with anger. "Don't call him that."
"Easy, Walker." Sam spoke at the same time as you did, also looking a little more tense with the name brought into the conversation, gesturing with his hand and pointing at Walker with his index finger warningly.
The aforementioned blinked a few times and then dropped his shoulders, exhaling a great breath of air. His blue eyes fell back on you before he spoke. "I'm trying, sweetheart, I really am― "
"Don't call her that." Bucky snapped this time, annoyed, but John completely ignored him, continuing to look at you in a way that really disgusted you and your lover alike, even Sam got uncomfortable with it, frowning at him.
"I still think you should switch sides here, (Y/N)." You kept quiet, allowing him to keep talking. Maybe you wanted to hear him, maybe you were giving him a chance to say something that would clean up all the garbage he had been saying so far. "I mean, you are an avenger, the last one standing and a very good friend of Steve, you were his partner. The right thing to do now would be for you to be my partner, don't you think?"
You were going to answer something immediately, your trembling lips parting as you felt a strange sensation when hearing the words Steve and avenger in the same sentence, but Bucky, once again, interrupted the conversation, raising his head towards the driver with a clenched jaw. He had enough. You had enough.
"Stop the car!"
Walker rolled his eyes, watching as Bucky stood up as the car came to a stop and moved to the side of the road, his hand entwining with yours, gently pulling you to follow him, knowing full well that all you wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible, just by reading your body language. "You know what? I get it, alright?"
When the blue-eyed super-soldier was on the ground, he turned to look at you, offering his hand to help you down as well, but you turned to Walker, feeling a wave of fury shake your body. "No, you don't get it. You don't understand what this shield means to us, what Steve means to us. You never will, John."
Walker opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted him with your eyebrows rising ironically. "Oh, I almost forgot."
What immediately came following your words was your fist impacting against his face so fast and hard that not even he saw it coming. He let out a great whine and brought his hand to his nose, feeling how the blood began to come out of the nostrils thanks to, probably, a fracture.
You didn't stop to watch the man whimper and cry down on his seat, as you hurried to get out of the vehicle taking Bucky's hand, who kept a wide smile full of pride on his lips, looking openly satisfied with the situation.
"That's my girl." He murmured against your forehead as his arms pulled you close to his body and placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "I'm sorry you had to listen to all that, doll."
Sam decided to stay with John and his partner for a couple of minutes, to, as his good heart requested, listen to what he had to say, perhaps waiting for an apology. While you and your lover were simply holding each other on the side of the road, already away from the car.
You kissed Bucky's clavicle before separating from him and raising your head to join your gaze with his beautiful blue eyes, which, in the contrast of daylight, shone like never before. His orbs automatically softened once they landed on you. "He's a dick, don't worry about him, love."
"But he really choose to flirt with you in front of me. How bold. Switch sides he said, right?" Bucky's hands rested on your waist, keeping you close to him, as if you were such an idiot to want to get away from the warmth and comfort that his body offered you. "You're not going to leave me, are you, doll?"
You could feel your heart squeeze inside your chest when you saw a hint of insecurity flash in the blue of his eyes. Suddenly, he looked like a little lost puppy.
"Oh, baby, no." You released with an exhale of air, as you stood on tiptoe to level a bit with his height and both of your hands were raised towards his cheeks, lowering his face to you, making him focus only on you. "I'll never leave you, James. You're all I have, all I need. Only you. Some fool with a shield won't be able to keep me away from you, Steve couldn't, and neither will this one." You gave him a short kiss, caressing his face with the greatest delicacy in the world. You raised your eyebrows before speaking again. "And hell, there is a big difference between them."
Bucky gave you a little smile, almost dazzling you at how beautiful he was when he smiled. But after a few seconds that warm smile turned sad and melancholic, just before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to his body once more, in a strong hug, full of shared emotions.
"Never leave me, baby doll." He whispered against your ear, leaving a soft kiss on the side of your head.
"Never." You replied immediately, showing absolutely no doubt.
"You two finished?" Sam's voice brought you both back to reality. Bucky grunted, reluctantly pulling away his face from your neck. Your coworker was looking at you with a single raised eyebrow and when he saw how you finally separated from each other, he crossed his arms. "You know what the rule is, love birds."
"I hate you." The super soldier responded by shooting his co-worker a short, annoyed look.
Sam smirked. "No you don't."
The three of you started walking across the path back home, Bucky intertwining his flesh fingers with yours, keeping you close to him, as always.
"That punch back there was really necessary, though, (Y/N)?" The Falcon asked you, while he walked to your other side. An amused expression as he turned to you.
"It really was." You nodded your head with a big smile on your mouth, giggling shortly, making Sam laugh too with it.
But you and your best friend were surprised all of a sudden at hearing Bucky laughing next to you as well, both of you turning to look at him with raised eyebrows, totally stunned by his open display of emotion.
"My girl is the most badass of all." The super-soldier said after a few seconds of laughing softly, unable to erase the huge smile of pride plastered on his pretty face. A soft kiss was placed on your forehead, as he brought you closer to him. “My girl.”
Sam rolled his eyes at you. "No PDA in front of me, guys. You know te rule, c’mon.”
"Shut up, Sam." You declared this time with a smile, while you put Bucky's flesh arm around your shoulders to be even closer to him, passing your arm around his waist, immediately feeling his natural warmth delightfully invade you.
"I love you, doll." He murmured against the side of your head, his warm breath crashing against your skin.
"I love you too." You mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest.
"That's it, I'm flying."
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