#bucky barnes x reader
im seeing something i like
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Little bit o' smut, needy, whiny Bucky
A/N: Just a little something until I get back to my laptop. No minors.
“I have to go,” you say, gently shaking off the vibranium hand around your ankle. Laughter bubbling up when he only groans in response.
Bending over you grab your shirt from under the kitchen chair, you start to pull it on, then a dull thud has you turning your head, “Did you-did you just kick the floor?”
Bucky glares up at you with baleful eyes. “Maybe.”
Clutching the wrinkled shirt to your bare chest, you roll your eyes at the pouting super soldier. “Bucky, we spent all weekend together-“ You start, ignoring his loud huff. “-I promised my friends that I would go out for one drink and I....”
You swallow, your mouth going dry as you watch him pull his cock out of tight black briefs. “Bucky, stop it.” you finish weakly.
He tilts his chin up, his ocean blue eyes ensnaring yours and he moans your name, it’s sweet and sinful, as if he’s tasting it, tasting you with each slow swipe of tongue across his bottom lip. Then you remember he is and your knees nearly buckle as he wipes your slick from his chin and smears it over his cock.
He’s so filthy.
Bucky twists his hand around his shaft, precum dripping down from the red, swollen tip.
And he moans your name again.
Louder, vulgar sounds emitting from his chest, his hips rutting into his palm. Thick, long fingers laced around his throbbing cock. “You’re really gonna leave me, Plum.”
You want to tear your eyes away but you can’t. Not with his back arching off the ground, soft grunts mingled with your name filling the early morning air. You bite back a needy gasp when he lets his cock go, fisting his hands at his sides. “I can’t finish,” he gazes up at you, a deep wrinkle forming between his furrowed brows.
Bucky reaches out for you. “My hand isn’t as good as your pussy.” Oh fuck, the way he says that has you trembling. “I need you Plum, need your tight wet warm pussy around my cock.” He doesn’t play fair at all, you’re practically preening at his praise. “You feel so good, doll, so fucking good, please don’t leave me.”
Bucky stretches his legs out, patting his thighs. “Why don’t you let me show you how fucking good you feel Plum?”
You don’t realize you were walking back to him, drawn back into his orbit with each filthy word until he sat up, hands smoothing up your thighs, his breath washing over your glistening cunt before he tugs you down over him.
“Oh Buc-,” you cry out as he pushes you down, down “just a little more plum there you go, until his thick throbbing cock is buried in you, the first stretch knocking your breath out of your chest until you’re panting.
Bucky wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his warm chest. “Now I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll never think about leaving me again.”
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pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.
Bucky wasn’t a man of many words.
And you noticed that fairly quickly. In fact, it was one of the first things you noticed about him when you first joined the team. Quiet, reserved, gentle Bucky Barnes wasn’t a man of many words.
But his eyes spoke volumes.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
His gaze fell, “Not much to say.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
And you pushed him a lot to do so. Always asked him about the 40s and what he was like. You remembered asking if he was just as quiet then as he was now and Steve laughed from across the room saying, “You’re kidding right, Y/N? Buck was a real smooth talker.”
So, you teased him about that often. He didn’t like it, always said something about not being that guy anymore.
You reminded him that he could be any guy he wanted.
So, yeah, Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two got close.
“I know you stole the remote, Buck.”
He circled around the kitchen counter, walking away from you.
“Is it because you don’t want to watch that Disney movie with me? I know you secretly like it and —“
“I don’t have the remote, Y/N.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what’s that hanging out of your pocket?”
You saw that little grin form on his face and you hurried forward and grabbed it before he could say another word.
He chased after you.
Then there were those times where he did thoughtful little things. Where he let his heart show through that thick wall of his and it made you realize just how much he spoke without speaking.
“Did you guys drink all the coffee again? Really? Does no one —“
Bucky handed you a cup.
“Two sugars, right?”
“Yeah and —“
“A dash of cream.”
That was until he added salt into your coffee one morning.
“We ran out of sugar!” he defended.
“So you added salt? Buck, that’s —“ you eyed him. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
He took a sip of his coffee.
“Oh, you’re getting brave. I can —“
You grabbed his coffee and headed straight for your room.
He chased after you again.
So, yeah you two got close.
Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two still got close.
He never let his walls down completely though. Never enough to let you know what he was feeling anyway, if he was hurt. It didn’t bother you so much until you realized he was always hurt, always hurting and that stung a little too much.
“Buck…can you let me in? Please?”
“We can talk tomorrow, Y/N.”
You sighed, standing outside his door.
“I don’t wanna talk tomorrow. I wanna…we don’t have to talk at all, Buck. I just wanna be with you right now.”
You’ll want to talk anyway, you practically heard and you sighed because it was true.
You knew you’d ask him a bunch of questions and Steve already told you — he already told you that Bucky liked his space. That he got distant sometimes when the world got too much or people got too much for him. Sometimes his mind got too much and Bucky wanted a break. You slid down against his door and sat there for ten minutes hoping for a change of heart.
You weren’t leaving though.
“Hey, Buck, how about this?”
You continued when he didn’t respond. You knew he was listening.
“How about we create a system? One that doesn’t involve you talking or me asking. It can just be...our thing. It can our thing, Buck.”
“And we don’t have to do it all the time. Just when we need to. When I need to know things and you don’t feel like giving. Think you’ve already given too much, don’t ya think?”
But then you heard the door open and you fell back a little. Bucky looked down at you, what system? his eyes read and you patted the ground in front of you, signaling for him to sit.
“Okay so, two taps anywhere like this,” you pressed your fingers against the back of his hand twice. “Means you’re okay. That you’re fine. Three taps, however,” you pressed three times against his skin. “Means you’re not. That you’re not okay.”
He stared at your hands.
“And I don’t have to explain why?”
“Never, Buck. Not unless you want to.”
You tapped him four times.
“Four taps means you miss me.”
Bucky got up.
“Aw, c’mon Buck. Humor me a little!”
You didn’t miss the little grin on his face.
Somehow you thought he’d give you two taps just for that comment.
Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, so he liked the system.
He first used it three days after it was created.
He’d woken up and strolled in for his first cup of coffee. Wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found you already there, cup ready in hand with eggs to match because coffee isn’t breakfast, Buck. He’d usually argue about it. Coffee’s the only breakfast, he’d say, but he didn’t have that in him today.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t come out of his room in three days. Or maybe it was because you hadn’t said anything to him yet, but Bucky didn’t argue. He just found himself tapping your hand twice when he reached for the cup.
Bucky liked that.
And you found that was the one he used the most.
Two taps whenever he went off to bed. Two taps when you played that Godforsaken Disney movie for the 5th time that week. Two taps when Thor made some stupid comment about wars during dinner one night.
It was two taps.
Always two taps.
So you were more than a little surprised when your first three taps came.
It was right after a mission. A long one. One that Steve had gotten hurt on because Bucky hadn’t gotten there fast enough. It wasn’t his fault though. Wasn’t anyone’s fault because everyone was too preoccupied with the bad guys at hand to notice the knife coming for Steve’s left side. Bucky took the blame though. Beat himself up about till he got into the jet.
The words were on the tip of your tongue, are you okay? You wanted to say it. Wanted everyone to say it because how could they not notice?
You didn’t though.
Instead you sat next to him and waited for him to say something, anything. At some point, you felt yourself giving up and drifting off until you felt his hand on your thigh.
He squeezed it three times.
You rested your head on his shoulder.
Then there was that time you left for six days. Fury had you and Natasha assigned to some undercover mission in London for the next six days. It took the whole six days, while the boys jetted off to New Orleans to deal with some asshole causing a ruckus in the city.
They came back in two.
“Buck!” you shouted, waking through the compound and dropping your bag at the front door.
“Buck, I’m back! Where are —“ you grinned, finding him resting at the bar stool in the kitchen. He was reading some file and you dropped your head onto his shoulder from behind.
“Hey, Buck. Miss me?”
“No? Ouch, well, I missed you,” you turned your head, kissing his cheek. “Look, I even brought you back a keychain. Nothing fancy. Just has a cat waving the British flag and when I saw it, I thought of you. The cat looks grumpy.”
Bucky didn’t say anything and you removed your head from his shoulder. He must be really into the file, you thought and you didn’t want to bother him so you left the keychain on the table and turned around to head to your room.
Bucky grabbed you and tapped your waist four times.
You launched yourself at him and covered his face with a series of kisses. Everywhere. Anywhere you could reach and each one was followed by a string of I knew it, I knew it, I knew it’s.
Bucky never wanted to use the four taps again.
Except he did. All the time.
Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he thinks he was starting to fall for you.
Because he did four taps whenever you left the room for too long. And when Steve briefed them for too long that one time about some mission, Bucky found himself tapping your leg four times even though you were right there.
Right there. You were right there.
He even recalled nudging his nose against yours four times when you fell asleep on him during that damn Disney movie the previous week.
“Miss you,” he mumbled.
But it was okay because when you woke up the next morning, you nudged your nose against his cheek four times.
Bucky woke up with a bright gleam in his eyes.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“Missed you, obviously.”
And then there came a time where Bucky decided he wanted to create a new one. A new tap.
Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he knows he finally found love.
“Sweetheart, damn, can you slow —“
Because you were stuffing popcorn in his mouth. You were laying in front of him, in between him to be more exact, and throwing popcorn behind like it was nothing.
Most of it didn’t even make it into his mouth.
“Shh, this is the best part.”
“You say that everytime. We’ve seen this movie a —“
Bucky laughed and pulled you up so you were closer to his chest. It wasn’t anything special that made him realize it. Thinks it was the familiarly and the comfortability that made him put the pieces together, but Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips against your hair three times. Just three and that was enough for you to tear your eyes away from the screen and look up at him.
He didn’t say anything.
“Did I throw too much popcorn again? You know I get excited when Lucifer gets on screen. He reminds me so much of —“
Bucky tightened his arm around you and tapped his thumb against your stomach once.
You knitted your brows.
“One? Buck, one doesn’t mean anything. We don’t have —“
“One means I love you.”
“One tap means I love you. It means I love you, Y/N.”
It took a few seconds for your brain to register but once it did you jumped up in his lap and turned to face him. Bucky's sure the popcorn bowl had spilled all over the floor, but he didn’t care. Not when his girl looked at him like that and leaned in to kiss him like that too. So fiercely and full of love.
“Okay, okay, baby! I said one tap.”
“One tap gets you a million kisses each time.”
“Mhm. I’m okay with that.”
You giggled, I know you are, you mumbled against him and kissed him a little harder. He felt brighter, more happy and he knew he wasn’t one to say much, but his eyes always did and that was enough for you to pull back for a quick second before leaning in to give him one, long, seething kiss.
And at that moment, Bucky knew the kind of guy he wanted to be.
He wanted to be the kind that was loved by you.
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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.
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
3K notes · View notes
abstract ; baby making sex with your husband.
pairing ; tfatws!bucky x f!reader
word count ; 2,521 words
content warnings ; talk of having kids, baby making sex [unprotected], intrusive thoughts [for bucky], pet-name [petal], baby-making sex positions, squirting, blowjob, oral, cum-play, praise kink, mocking & degradation [name called - slut], dumbification, alludes to public sex, soft and sweet moments — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI
notes ; starting the dilf!bucky protection squad because he deserves the world <3
Bucky Barnes wanted a baby. He wanted a family, a family that was his. A family with you. It was apparent that he’d been longing for it for as long as you could remember.
For a super-soldier ex Russian spy, he wasn’t that sneaky.
A list of baby names scribbled onto a piece of paper, tucked away in the pages of his favourite book.
The computer search history asking questions of how long does it take to get pregnant? A tab holding the question of best positions to make a baby? And, your favourite one yet, is 106 too old to be a dad?
Bucky had caught the baby fever.
You think it was because Sam had become a new dad and Bucky jumped at the opportunity of babysitting whenever you guys could, offering his help whenever, and even asking Sam questions about fatherhood.
It was sweet, wholesome, endearing, and it made you uncontrollably horny.
Because Bucky? As a fucking DILF? Fuck, yes.
Then he finally let it slip, cuddled up in bed, a comfort movie playing on the TV, but Bucky couldn’t pay attention to anything but the thought of starting a family with you.
“I wanna have a baby,” he blurted, his heart racing as you turned to look at him all while trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break free across your face.
“I wanna make you a mom,” he added, twiddling his thumbs and you could tell you nervous he was.
You reached out for his hand, cold and sleek, as you squeezed the prosthetic.
“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, Buck,” you whisper softly, running your finger over where Bucky had his wedding band engraved where his fourth finger meets his knuckles.
He’d worried about how he would find a ring, but he found a better, more permanent solution to that problem and it only made you fall more in love with him as he engraved your initials on his palm.
That way, he could hold you no matter where you were.
“Really?” He sounds surprised as he pulls you onto his lap. You have to giggle, because he really was oblivious for the deadliest assassin to ever step foot on American soil.
“I wanna have your baby, Bucky. I wanna have as many babies as we want.” His eyes gloss over because truthfully, who would want to have a family with a monster like Bucky?
It took years of therapy, and Bucky was doing much better, but that’s the thing about intrusive thoughts; they never leave you alone.
So when Bucky got down on one knee, shaky hands holding the velvet box, he was sure that you would say no to his proposal.
But he had to admit, hearing you say that you want to carry his baby...his dick twitched at the thought.
And you noticed, because you smirked, raising an eyebrow, “should we get started tonight?”
That’s all it took for Bucky to flip you over, have you writhing under him as he whispered about how full he was going to have you. That you would be leaking by the time he was done with you.
Sex with Bucky was always mind-fucking-blowing.
But baby-making sex with Bucky?
Well it made you almost fucking astral project as he stepped up his already perfect game in the hopes of filling you with enough of his seed to make you nice and round.
And so, when you got your period the next month, you had to remind Bucky that it was going to take a little time. Even with his super-sperm, you were still human at the end of the day.
But Bucky just quirked an eyebrow, stepped closer to you and trapping you against the counter as he whispered, “guess that means I’ll be findin’ every and any excuse to pump you full of cum, isn’t that right, Plum?”
Leave it to Bucky to have you squirming at 10:32 AM on a Thursday morning.
It didn’t stop there, no, not when you were wearing Bucky’s favourite sundress to the park.
“You really expect me not to take you when you wear this?” He groans as his already wandering hands are grabbing and squeezing at your ass as you let out a soft giggle.
Okay, yeah. So maybe this was part of your plan.
“Baby my dick is so hard, I can’t go back there,” he whisper-yells pitifully as you’re hiding in the small wooded area.
The fallen tree branches crunch underneath both of your feet as he has you pressed up against a thick wooden tree. It scratches at your exposed skin, but you don’t care now that Bucky’s hiking your dress up and...
“Oh you little,” he can’t even finish his sentence as he meets your bare pussy.
He meets your eyes, they’re hungry as he licks his lips, “my little slut wanted to get fucked in the middle of the fuckin’ woods, huh?”
God, if this is how you and Bucky get pregnant, it would be one hell of a story.
See that’s the thing about Bucky; if he wants it, he’s making damn well sure that he’s getting it.
It had been a few months of trying to get pregnant, being given the all clear by the doctors, so really all you had to do was have stupid amounts of sex.
Bucky fist-bumped the doctor, he cheered and joked that the doctor had literally prescribed you guys sex.
He was just an overgrown fratboy with the skillset of someone who the KGB used to be afraid of.
But truthfully, that’s exactly what you had left to do. And Bucky was very proud of his craft which meant he always left you shaking at the end of the night, kissing you and telling you how proud of you he was.
Tonight was no different.
Dinner had been left on the table, cold and uneaten as Bucky pressed you against the wall and wedged his thigh between your legs only to pull back to gauge you reaction to the words that would come from his mouth next.
“’M hungry for somethin’ a little sweeter tonight, Plum. And ‘m feelin’ greedy.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, gasping softly when he dug his thick, cool digits into the flesh of your cheeks effectively holding your face in whatever position he chose.
“Tonight,” he smirked. “I wanna watch you squirm, beggin’ for my cock, beggin’ me to fill you up ‘til you can’t take anymore.”
You sucked in a harsh breath, “because I’ll take care of you,” there was a sinister look in his eyes.
“But only if you behave.”
You whimpered, audibly, as your knees buckled slightly and then his lips were on yours in a greedy and needy kiss. There was nothing more you wanted than to feel his tongue against yours, but even that he wouldn’t give you so easily.
“Aww you poor little thing,” he cooes mockingly, “you gotta learn how to control yourself.”
As if his words would make you feel better. They only accelerated your heartbeat and the unevenness of your breathing.
“But Bucky,” you whined, not being able to get a single other word out as he shut you up by tightening his grip on your face.
“Shut up.” He growled, surprising you as your breathing stuttered in your chest, “get on your knees.”
You looked at him, dumbfounded, as if you didn’t speak English and he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes.
“Well? Did your dumb baby brain shut off? Do I have to dumb it down even further for you?” He continued to taunt you, “get on those knees and open your pretty little mouth for me.”
You’re being pushed down, strong hands on your shoulders before you’re met with his impressive bulge.
He’s teasing you, slowly undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down as you unconsciously lip your bottom lip in anticipation.
But Bucky catches it. “Desperate little thing, aren’t ya?”
Baby making sex with Bucky was never just about the sex. He always shifted his focus on you, knowing you better than you knew yourself, and making sure you were having a good time.
Which you really fucking were because your panties were fucking soaked. Drenched. Gone.
A shudder rolls over your body when he finally pulls himself free, giving himself a few strokes before you’re gently being slapped by it.
“Eyes on me, yeah? Focus, you pretty little thing.” He purrs with a wicked smirk, mischief in his eyes.
You feel the weight of his head against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth and slowly wrap your lips around him.
The hiss that leaves Bucky sounds like this is what he’s been needing — craving, even.
“Oh yeah, that’s it baby. Love your mouth so fuckin’ much,” he groans, eyes fluttering closed as you take him further.
You’ve memorized the spots on him that make him whimper and moan, hitting them with your tongue as his dick twitches in your mouth.
“Look’atcha,” he smirks, “mouth full of my cock and you’re squirmin’, huh?”
Shit. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice how unbelievably turned on you were — oh, who were you kidding?
Of course you wanted him to see how fucking wet you are.
Your brain was nothing but mush at this point, the only thoughts being anything and everything revolving around Bucky.
“Up,” Bucky said. “Stand.” His tone was much more demanding the second time around as you stood on shaky, wobbly legs.
Panties soaked, your core absolutely aching, and your makeup a mess as Bucky runs his thumb under your eyes and smirks.
“You look so pretty like this, Petal.” His voice is soft, but he’s going to think about this moment the next time you cry.
He loves it. He loves it when you cry because he gets to tell you how pretty you look — it’s fucked up, messed beyond belief, but you like it.
You enjoy being Bucky’s ruined little mess.
The moment doesn’t last and you don’t get to relish in it before your clothes are literally ripped off, leaving you with hard nipples at the sudden cool air surrounding you.
Then he pushes you against the even colder wall, chest against yours, “now I think it’s only fair we get you nice and ready.”
Bucky sinks to his knees, lips trailing down your body and he doesn’t break eye contact before he nuzzles his face between your thighs and his scruff sends a chill down your spine.
“Such a pretty cunt, God, I love this pretty little pussy,” he groans, placing your legs over his shoulders and he’s eating you out.
Eating you out against the wall, holding you up entirely as he digs his fingers into your hips and ass.
You think you’ll suffocate him with your thighs.
Bucky wants exactly that.
He’s lapping at you, licking, sucking, and drawing tight figure eights in your clit as you soak him with your slick.
When he lets out a moan against your pussy, you gasp as your walls flutter because of how goddamn close you are.
“Oh,” a whine cuts you off. “Oh Buck, so close.”
He already knows. He doesn’t need you to tell him that you’re about to cover him, drench him, he’s been craving it the entire day.
It’s so fucking hot he has to wrap a hand around his dick, slowly stroking himself because he’s painfully hard now — but he refuses to let himself cum until he’s buried deep in you.
Your orgasm rocks you, earthquake to your bones as you grip and tug at his hair before he’s coming up for air.
A cocky smirk and glistening lips, “could have you squirt over me every fuckin’ day.”
“But as much as I’d like to keep devourin’ you,” he’s standing up now, your legs wrapped around his torso as he’s making his way to the bedroom.
“I want to stuff you full even more.”
You’re thrown on the bed, relatively gently before Bucky is hovering over you with his dog tags swinging gently against your chest.
This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, but it doesn’t happen immediately. Instead, Bucky groans as he furrows his eyebrows.
“I read,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing a pillow from beside you, “that this could help.”
He’s patting your bum, “lift your hips up for me, Petal.”
You do as you’re told, intrigued and hey, if it’ll help, you’re willing to try anything.
He places the pillow beneath your hips so they’re lifted — raised up — but comfortably so and you’re just anticipating how deep he’ll be able to get with this angle.
“C’mon, Bucky,” you whine, grabbing for him. “Fuck a baby into me already.”
You swear he growls, pinning your wrists against the mattress as his nose bumps you and smirks, “oh, I’ll be sure to fuck you so full tonight, Petal.”
He lines himself up, sending a wink your way, “don’t you worry.” He says before he pushes in and groans so lowly that you can feel the vibrations running through his chest.
“Baby,” he whines, “baby oh you feel s’good.”
His thrusts are slow, but deep, making sure to relish the way your warm walls grip him as the bed creaks and shakes under the both of you. And thank God for Bucky’s internet search history.
Because this new position is not only comfortable, but Bucky is deeper than ever before.
“Want you to feel how deep I am,” he grunts, grabbing your one hand and placing it over your lower tummy and applying pressure over your hand as you whine.
“Yeah, you feel that?” He smirks, “God, you take me so fuckin’ well.”
The soft praises leave you reeling, clawing into his flesh trying to bring him closer but Bucky is set on watching his cum leak out of you so he can push it back in you.
His thrusts grow sloppier, brow creasing as he nuzzles his head in into your shoulder as you milk him with your own orgasm before he can no longer hold himself back.
“Fuck,” he’s panting. “’M cummin’, Petal.”
It leaves you shuddering, pulling him close as he sinks his teeth into you shoulder before kissing the indents of his teeth softly.
He’s still inside of you, sitting back on his heels as he’s massaging your hips, “not wastin’ a single drop tonight.” He proudly grins as you give him a tired and soft smile.
“Jus’ relax, baby,” he purrs, slowly pulling out of you after some time has passed.
Bucky sucks in a harsh breath at the sight of his cum leaking out of you, fingers collecting it and carefully spreading it over you, “’m gonna be takin’ care of you all night long.”
What you didn’t realize is that tonight was going to be the night.
A few weeks later, a positive pregnancy test, a teary eyed Bucky, and lots of kisses to your tummy as he whispers how much he loves the little Bean growing inside of you.
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facial expressions brought u by ✨𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠 ✨
2K notes · View notes
ways writers can be inclusive 101
“my cheeks turned pink in embarrassment” → “my cheeks heated in embarrassment”
“his hand ran through my hair” → “his hand ran over my head/hair”
“her bright pink pussy” → literally anything else
stop using mood boards of only white couples/children (heavy on this one)
using children names like eveleigh ann (do i need to explain..)
her hair was put in a messy bun/her long silky hair...
Respectfully, I know it’s just fanfiction, but if you’re going to write reader insert fics then do the bare minimum of making sure it’s actually inclusive and not white coded. Many of us shouldn’t read an x reader fic and imagine a white woman every single time. Stop taking criticism from bipocs, saying your writing is not inclusive, as hate. Let go of the mindset that having a bipoc in your writing means they have to go through some racial struggle or you must talk about their culture (a lot of bipocs don’t know their culture/where they came from). It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable to write them in your stories, we’re normal people too. If it does maybe a reflection is meant to be had. Like i said, it’s just fanfiction and it’s supposed to be fun, but some of y’all are purposefully exclusive and still tag your writing wrong.
And if you can’t handle it, tag ur fic as an oc or white!reader. Because it’s not right for writers to attack people asking for inclusivity and playing victim bc they know they can.
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I've been thinking about a priest trying to "save" the reader from demon Bucky, only to fail miserably and gets forced to watch Bucky fuck the reader in his own church
Pairing: Demon Bucky x reader
Warnings: Smut, kinda public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism Minors DNI.
Word count: less than 1.5 k (?)
A/N: Written on my phone while at work. Will edit later. Do not copy,rewrite, translate or repost my drabbles.
You're sitting in Father Roger's office wearing a demure white lace dress. The matching stockings go up to your thighs, held in place by a pair of wine red garters. Buckys favorites. He loves how innocent you appear when you dress like this.
Your eyes hover over the bookshelf to your left, it's filled with religious literature. Even more books are stacked on his desk. Various pens and crosses are scattered across the uneven piles of paperwork. The overhead light catches specks of dust that dance in the still air. The faint scent of damp wood seeps into your nose.
You eye a particularly pretty cross, your hand drawn to it. Touching the tapered edge, you giggle when you feel a spark sting your fingertips. Withdrawing your hand, you continue to study the room while you wait.
You hum under your breath, perking up when you hear footsteps approaching. Straightening up, you smooth down the front of your dress.
Father Rogers closes the door behind him with a heavy sigh. "I'm so glad you could make it today."
He steps into your line of vision. You give him an alluring grin, widening your eyes ever so slightly. "Of course Father," you say, keeping your voice soft.
Folding your hands on your lap, you blink up at him. Steve watches you closely as he takes his seat, his eyes hardening when he sees the finger shaped bruises decorating your neck.
"There have been rumors that you were seen at the old church and that you may have been engaging in--," he huffs, removing his glasses, he pinches the bridge of his nose. In all his years, he never thought he would be having this conversation.
You lean forward, placing your palms on his desk. "Yes Father."
"Excuse me." He says, his brows furrowing.
You get out of the chair, keeping your hands on the smooth wooden surface. "I did go to the church. I did call for Bucky. And those activities they're whispering about are all true." You smile proudly.
Steve exhales sharply. He tosses his glasses down and grabs your hands. "Child, do you know what you have done? It's not too late, I can help you. We can rid you of this demonic presence."
His impassioned rant fades when you tilt your head to the side. Your eyes drifting over his shoulder. You grin, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You hear that baby. He can rid me of your demonic presence."
Steve gawks at you, carefully withdrawing his hands. The sweet scent of lilacs and vanilla fill the musty air. The lights flicker changing from the dull yellow glow to an unnatural red.
Steve turns his head, startling in his chair. He curses under his breath, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as Bucky emerges from the shadows.
"Mmm language Father," Bucky purrs, gliding across the room.
He stands behind you, pressing down on your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. "Tell me, Father, just how do you plan on getting rid of me."
Goosebumps prickles across your skin as his large hands push your dress up your thighs to your waist. He plucks the garter, the band snapping on your tender skin. You hiss, loving the delicious sting. Bucky palms your ass. You hear shifting and rustling behind you.
Steve raises his hand, starting to form a cross. Bucky laughs a beautiful musical tone that makes you shiver. You're still not used to that mesmerizing sound.
Steve flinches, clutching his ears. He gasps when his hands are pulled down. His seat moving across the floor, the wheels squeaking and rattling as he's pushed to the desk.
Bucky licks up the side of your neck. He grips your hips and pushes into your slick walls with one firm thrust. Pleasure blooms from your core as he stretches you. Fuck, you never feel a burn with him, just pure bliss. You drop to your elbow, moaning as you blatantly stare at an aghast Steve.
Bucky grunts, snapping his hips into yours. "I'm so deep in her. She's so fucking tight." He lifts your hips and you cry out his name.
"You hear that Father," Bucky asks, a smirk forming as Steve struggles against his invisible bonds. Bucky pulls you flush against his chest, each stroke of his cock pushing you to your tiptoes.
He places his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. The salacious wet sloshing of your cunt echoing in the small room is vulgar and filthy and it makes you even wetter, your slick dripping around his cock.
"Sounds like she doesn't want to let me go." Bucky taunts, lifting your dress, exposing your swollen pussy. Steves's eyes darken, a hoarse grunt caught in his throat.
"Her sweet cunt keeps sucking me back in." He groans, fucking into you harder and faster. You're not listening, too focused on the pleasure burning through your veins.
His tail wraps around your belly, keeping you still. Buckys mouth drops to your ear. "You know, I bet the good father is hard right now, bet his cock is aching to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him."
He flicks his wrist, lifting Steve out of the chair. Your grin hidden by Bucky's rough palm, he's right. Steve can't hide his lust-blown pupils, he definitely can't hide his cock straining the thin fabric of his pants.
You can help the moan ripping through your chest. Buckys large body surrounding you, Steve's piercing eyes on you. It's so debauched but you love every second of it.
"Aw look at that," he darkly chuckles. Bucky pulls your dress down exposing your tits, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple while his long dexterous fingers circle your clit. "He wants you, little one, but you belong to me."
"Yes, yes I'm yours, all yours Bucky," you pant.
He nips at your bruised throat, his hips slapping into you so fast you're getting dizzy. It's too much, you're so close, so fucking close.
"All mine. Let's show him how pretty you look when you cum."
Steve crashes to the floor, his head tilted back as the desk flies across the room. His gaze locked on your pussy. "Cum for him, little one, let him see why your pussy is better than salvation. " He says, his fingers spreading your folds so Steve can see his large, thick cock pushing into your sopping core.
You clench down with a cry. It's a visceral reaction, the knot unraveling in your cunt, your body tensing as you fall apart.
"Good girl." Bucky groans, his deep voice rumbling across your skin. " Don't you agree, Steve?"
A sly grin cuts across his face, his blue eyes flickering to a deep black. "She's a very good girl."
He stands, shedding his cloak. "Now it's my turn to ruin her sweet cunt."
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all the good things
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: bucky's been more than a little happy recently. sam thinks it has something to do with the pretty girl on the team.
author's note: based on a prompt and idea sent in by a lovely anon of mine, "i haven't seen him smile like that in ages." hope u like it x
It was a stupid lie.
One that Sam thought would be funny and harmless and okay, maybe a little cruel, but harmless regardless.
It was supposed to be harmless.
Because Bucky never smiled like that. Never looked so happy.
And Sam noticed it.
He noticed it the morning they had to leave for Germany.
“Plane’s all loaded. Tony said he’ll meet us in Berlin. Everyone ready?”
Clint groaned, “We’ve been ready since your five a.m. wake up call, Rogers.”
“Why was that necessary again?” Natasha asked.
Steve narrowed his eyes, “You know why.”
“We’re not always late, Steve. Cut us some slack and Clint - Clint don’t you dare take my spot. This is like Moscow all over again —“
Sam zoned them out because he noticed Bucky standing there. Right by the door with his hands twitching and he knew something was up.
Something that involved a really pretty girl, dragging herself in all late with heavy, sleepy eyes. You looked like you hadn’t slept all night and something about it made Sam want to laugh.
He didn’t though.
Not when you dropped your head on Bucky’s chest like that.
Sam watched as his hands stopped twitching.
“‘m so tired.”
“Yeah? Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up so late watching those reruns,” Bucky pointed out.
You grumbled something and Bucky laughed.
“I got her bag, man.” Sam interrupted.
Bucky looked over at him and nodded.
“I got her,” he quickly said, without thinking. “Got you, right, Y/N?”
“Mhm. Got me, Buck.”
Bucky smiled and Sam noticed that smile didn’t move from his face for a long time. A good twenty minutes. He didn’t know why he was paying attention to them so much. Maybe because he knew something was there. Something good was there between them and Sam liked when his friends had good things.
Even if those good things came during a ten hour plane ride.
“Alright, so Fury set us up in this hotel across the club. Tony said it gets pretty crazy around there, so going undercover will be no problem. However, we do need to watch out for these guys,” Steve handed out some profiles. “Ex-assassins. Pretty intense. Last Fury heard of ‘em they were in Chicago doing some high intel work for —“
You walked in, yawning and took a seat right next to Bucky. To everyone else, it seemed normal. You always sat next to Bucky and you always looked like that when you did. All bright-eyed and happy. Sam just didn’t know if the team knew what that was because they were too focused on Steve.
Sam focused on you though.
Focused on the way your head fell on Bucky’s shoulder and focused on the way Bucky moved his hand so you could look at the profiles together.
“Sleep well?” Bucky murmured.
“Yeah, yeah. Missed you though.”
Sam acted like he couldn’t hear them.
Like he hadn’t heard them.
But he had and he did and he needed to talk to Steve about it because he couldn’t be the only one noticing them, right? Everyone had eyes just like he did so they must have noticed.
They must have.
At least Steve would’ve.
“There’s something going on between them,” Sam tried explaining to Steve in the middle of the market. They were in some farmers market in the middle of Berlin. “I’m telling you, man, you —“
“Yeah, Bucky’s —“ Steve sighed. “He’s tryna figure it out. Doesn’t think he deserves her.”
Sam took a sip of his coffee.
“And you haven’t tried convincing him that he does? Just - just look at em’” he nudged his head over to you.
You were walking around the market with Bucky beside you. It looked like you were trying to keep an eye out, get a good glimpse of the area surrounding the club, but really couldn’t when one of the workers stopped you. Stopped to talk about some fruit he was serving and Bucky stopped too. Wrapped his arm around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.
Sam knew he had to do something when you reached out and instinctively tangled your hand in Bucky’s hair. The worker said something that made you two laugh and Bucky turned his face into your neck to stop from laughing too much. From smiling too much.
“I haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.”
“Me too,” Steve agreed.
So Sam had to do something. He had too and alright, maybe he hadn’t gone about it the right way, but it got him where he wanted and that’s all that really mattered.
Sam swore he’d never seen Bucky so pissed off before though.
“Is she getting it?” Bucky asked.
They were at that stupid club. The one that was about to get ransacked by those ex-assassin assholes if they didn’t move fast enough. Bucky was at one end of the bar while you were at the other, trying to get some code from some German guy. Sam passed by to make sure things were going smoothly.
“Yeah, she’s trying too. He won’t stop flirting with her though.”
Sam watched as Bucky’s gaze fell.
“Is she flirting back?”
“Think so. Think she’s trying to get his number and code in one go. Pretty impressive if you ask me.”
Bucky’s fist clenched and Sam mentally praised himself. He shouldn’t have because yeah, he lied, but it was harmless, okay? And just because you weren’t flirting with stupid German guy didn’t mean he couldn’t lie about it because stupid American guy wasn’t making any moves either. So, getting him a little pissed wasn’t going to hurt anybody.
Except maybe the ex-assassin assholes who walked through the door. Sam believed Bucky knocked all five of them out in less than ten minutes.
Steve didn’t even have to come in and Clint and Natasha stayed on the roof. Tony too.
No one got hurt the entire night.
Except maybe Bucky.
And you because the next morning on the plane Bucky wouldn’t speak with you.
“Hey, Buck,” you greeted. “Someone didn’t come to my room last night to watch our reruns.”
Bucky didn’t respond.
You looked at him.
“Hey, Buck, I’m talking to you.”
You tugged on his sleeve and he didn’t budge.
“Grumpy,” you teased. “Grumpy, hey, we don’t take off for another 10 minutes so why don’t stop staring out the window and look at me? Hm?”
“Don’t you have some German guy to text?’ Bucky shot back. “Real shame if he didn’t hear from you before you left the country.”
Bucky wanted to scoff. He wanted to scoff so bad.
“German guy? What German guy? Buck I —“
“Can’t even reply to my text when we’re one floor apart, but you’d do long-distance with him?”
“Long-distance? Who said anything about long distance and what German guy?”
You waited for him to say something and he didn’t.
“What German guy, Buck? And would you stop grumbling things under your breath and just look at me? Please.”
Your hand went to his jaw and you turned it to face you.
Bucky removed your hand from his skin.
You sighed and a part of you wanted to be irritated, it really did, but he was just upset. He looked really upset and you didn’t want to make him more upset, so you didn’t push. Not too much anyway but there was still a misunderstanding and you needed to fix it.
Now. You needed to fix it now.
So you got up and took a seat on his lap. Right on his thigh and rested your back on the window.
“That isn’t safe.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, “Pretty sure I’m safer here than there. Don’t ya think?”
Bucky didn’t say anything.
You held back a grin.
“Now how about you tell me what’s got you all grumpy? Hm? I can see that little crinkle on your forehead and you know —“ you smoothed it out with your thumb. “You know how much I don’t like that.”
“I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me, Buck. Communication, remember?”
“You could’ve told me you wanted to…see other people. I know we aren’t together and I know it’s stupid that I’m being like this and if you want to be with German guy than —“
“What German guy?”
Bucky looked away from you.
“What German guy, Buck? There was…is no German guy. There’s no one but —“
“That guy from the club. The one you were flirting with.”
You were taken aback for a moment and stayed quiet. Really, you didn’t know why you stayed as quiet as you did for as long as you did, but Bucky must’ve thought that he was right when you did. That your silence was an I caught you moment because he started moving you off his lap. Started unwrapping your arms from around his neck but you stayed put.
“I wasn’t flirting with him. I would never —“
And you’d be mad, you really would, but he was just hurt. He was hurt so you leaned forward and nudged your nose against his cheek. Against his stubble.
“Hey, grumpy, don’t do that. You know I’d only flirt with you.”
“Sam said —“
“And Sam jokes a lot. What makes you think he wasn't joking?”
Bucky didn’t say anything.
“You really think I’d do that to you?”
Bucky sighed, “No, no I know you wouldn’t. I guess it just —”
Sam cleared his throat and Bucky’s head shot to him. There was a smug grin on his face and Bucky immediately went, “I’m gonna kill him.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am. I can’t believe he would...you really...“
And he didn’t have to continue for you to know what he wanted to say. You really didn’t flirt with him? You really didn’t want him? It was written all over his face and all you had to do was tighten your arms around his neck. Card your fingers through the back of his hair for him to get the message.
His head fell on your chest.
“Am crazy about you, darlin’,” he looked up at you. “Just thought I lost you before I could make you mine.”
You stopped breathing.
“You wanna be mine, right?”
You blinked for a few seconds then pushed him back into the seat, kissing him a little too hard. Yeah, grumpy, I wanna be yours, you squeaked out because you were that excited. That giddy and Bucky laughed against your lips. Laughed and pressed his lips against that beautiful smile of yours even harder because he’d only been dreaming about kissing you like this for months. You even wanted to add that you’ve wanted to be his, well, since the first time you caught him watching reruns of that stupid baking show you always turned off.
Because to you it was too intense and fast and your life was already like that. Already too chaotic, but to Bucky it was calming. He found it calming so you started watching it with him.
She didn’t even leave it in the freezer long enough. How did she expect it to hold itself together? It’s chocolate, not glue, you’d always say. Always go on some tangent and Bucky really liked it. Found you funny and comforting and it really could've just been your voice. Your voice was sweet and smooth, but it wasn’t just that. It was you and all of you and he fell in love with all of it.
All of you.
Just like you fell in love with him when he rested his head on your shoulder and fell asleep right between you one night.
“Got me, Y/N?”
“Got you, Buck.”
So, the kiss felt like that. Like sleepy nights and baking shows and home and just everything good.
Sam could tell.
After all, he liked when his friends had good things.
Even if he had to make a few harmless lies to get them.
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how about dilf!bucky and cockwarming (if you’re into that kinda thing) 👀
⟶ midnight delight ; dilf!bucky
SUMMARY || you fall asleep before you & bucky can have time to yourselves, but bucky has a dream about you and needs you now. turns out you didn’t keep all that quiet.
PAIRING || dilf!bucky x f!reader
WORD COUNT || 1,327 words
WARNINGS || mention of: squirting, scars, pregnancy & masturbation, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink [belly bulge], crying kink, ruined kink, cumplay + creampie, lots of teasing & dirty talk, bucky turns subby for a moment — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
NOTES || for bucky i’d have kids <<3
It was the first night where the kids were in bed before 10 PM.
Do you know how often that happened?
The kids asleep, the kitchen clean, and Bucky stepping out of the shower before 10 PM?
It never happened.
Bucky's towel hung low on his hips, dangerously low as it revealed his toned, but soft tummy. The tummy that was littered in hair and various scars that you’d always ask to hear stories about.
You loved listening to Bucky speak. About anything.
“The kids are?” Bucky was confused at the words that left your lips, “asleep?”
You nodded your head, giddy as you giggled, “they sure are.”
With the towel still wrapped around his hips he stepped closer and closer and even closer until he stood right in front of you.
Body still warm and slightly wet from the shower, smell of bergamot, like Earl Grey tea, on his skin.
You were on your knees, still having to crane your neck to look at him, “mmm, I think that calls for mommy and daddy to have their own celebration.” Bucky purrs, kissing you sweetly.
You hum into the kiss, “I think we should.”
That’s the thing about having kids, you were tired.
Well, exhausted after the week you’d had.
So when Bucky disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and you slid under the comfortable, oh so soft against your skin covers...well, you passed out.
Like a light.
Cuddling Bucky’s pillow for him to come out and chuckle, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he turned off your bedside table lamp and slid under the covers himself.
But you didn’t stay asleep long, getting roused by Bucky’s lips on your shoulder and neck.
You groggily opened your eyes, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted before you made the brave move of checking the alarm clock that sat on your nightstand.
Oh thank God.
“You awake, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, voice thick with sleep still as you groaned in response.
“M’yeah,” is all you can mumble as you slowly get comfortable again, Bucky’s wandering hands causing a flutter in your lower tummy.
They’re squeezing your hips, pulling them tighter against his crotch and...
That’s explains why he was awake.
“Had a dream ‘bout you,” he whispers, lips back against your neck as you wiggle your hip, “tell me about it.” You breathe out in a sigh, smile on your lips as you enjoy the way he’s massaging your hips.
“God,” he chokes out, “felt s’fuckin’ real.”
It had been a while since you and Bucky had been intimate. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but every time you would get interrupted.
Or your vibrator had died because you hadn’t charged it in weeks.
Bucky has you pressed against his front now, dick rutting against your ass as you feel and hear his breathy little pants against your skin.
“Jus’ need’a feel you, sugar. Your tight cunt wrapped ‘round me—shit,” he hisses, choking back a moan as his hips press themselves tighter against you before you’re flipped around.
“Been far too long since I’ve been buried deep ‘side of you,” he purrs, holding your face with one hand as the other is lifting your leg to hook over his hip.
You’re tingling, panties damp at the mere thought of his cock.
When his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting the sweet slick on the tops of them, is when you realize just how much you need it.
“S’fuckin’ wet, you’re soakin’ right through your pretty little panties,” he groans, dick twitching in his boxers, “fuck, I-I jus’,” he can’t finish his sentence.
“I know, I know,” you pant, nodding your head, “need you, Bucky.”
He’s pushing his boxers down just far enough to grip his cock, shoving your underwear to side before plunging into you.
Slowly, both of you relishing in the moment that you’ve both been longing and yearning for.
The low rumbling moans that leave Bucky’s lips makes you flutter around him, squeezing him tighter, “oh my God.” Bucky can’t even find the words.
Chanting your name like a mantra, whimpering as he’s sunk into you, as deep as he can possibly go and he’s gripping onto you like you’re just a figment of his imagination that’ll fade away if he loosens his grip.
“Baby,” he rasps, “can we stay like this? So warm and wet,” he whines in your ear, “yeah, fuck, we can do anything you want.” You blurt because the feeling of Bucky nearly in your guts is sending you into overdrive.
Holding each other, you stay connected for a little while, enjoying the moment as Bucky occasionally rock or circles his hips making you squeak and whimper yourself.
“The last time I was this deep ‘side of you,” he chuckles, “we got pregnant.”
You remember the last time, both of you ripping each other’s clothes before you ended up straddling him on the couch not allowed to move as Bucky kept you pinned on him.
A shudder ran through you at the thought of that night.
Bucky cocks his head, “are ya thinkin’ of that night?” He hums, moving your head so you’re looking at him.
““Bout how I fucked you ‘til you couldn’t remember your name? The way I made you squirt all over me that we had to buy a new couch? Or was it the way I stuffed you full of my cum?”
You let out a strangled sob, feeling yourself grow wetter from his words, making a mess over yours and his thighs.
Your fingers are gripping his shirt, “please?” You croak and he just shakes his head, “please what?”
The frustration you felt was making it so you were close to tears, “oh baby, don’t cry, you know that jus’ makes it even harder for me to resist you.”
A stray few tears slip past your closed eyes, “need you, please, anything.” You hiccup, feeling his hands digging into your hips now.
“Anythin’?” He teases, pumping slowly into you, “I can work with that.”
The bed creaks, shitty headboard knocking against the wall and you both curse under your breaths just hoping that it doesn’t wake the kids up because you’re both sure as hell to horny to stop.
“Love feelin’ myself deep in you. All the way,” he presses on your tummy, “here.”
“S’my favourite fuckin’ thing,” he continues to fuck you with slow, but deep strokes.
“Havin’ you wrapped ‘round me, squeezin’ me with that greedy cunt of yours,” his eyebrows are tight, panting and it’s embarrassing how close you are.
“Plus,” he smirks, “I’ve missed seein’ that cute, swollen pregnant belly of yours.”
That’s all it takes for the coil to snap, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder as you cum because you’re nearly screaming his name.
“That’s it, baby, gonna let me fill you up. Gonna be leakin’—fuck.” Bucky’s hips stutter, spilling his seed in you and he can barely catch his breath.
You’re still floating, letting Bucky take care of cleaning you up before coaxing you to go to the bathroom before you inevitably fall back asleep.
The next morning you’ve both got a pep to your steps, breakfast laid out on the table; pancakes, various fruits, eggs, toast, and anything imaginable as your kids and Bucky make their way downstairs.
“Hey dad?” Your youngest son says, “what is it, bud?”
“Why were you and mom jumping on the bed last night if I can’t?” You have top turn around, choking on your coffee as Bucky’s eyes blow wide.
Your daughter happily munching on her pancake, “we’re adults, that’s why.”
It’s a good answer, but it doesn’t please your son as he’s going to open his mouth, but Bucky beats him to it.
“When you’re an adult, you’ll understand, buddy,” Bucky laughs before quickly and swiftly changing the subject and coming up to stand behind you.
“Next time, remind me to gag you with your panties.”
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Can I have a Biker/Mob Bucky with a forced marriage trope? 💦💦 (Breeding kink please?)
Title: Promised to Him
Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader
Summary: You return back to your town after years, hoping to start anew. But faces of the past reappear, set to fulfill promises you had made years ago.
Warnings: Non-con, forced marriage, breeding kink, kidnapping, language, 18+ ONLY
It was strange how this town never seemed to have aged. Everything was almost exactly how you remembered it to be. Even the smell of the place seemed the same: hyacinths that grew in almost every house, stale coffee, and motor oil. Being back here proved to be more difficult than you thought, for everyone was keen to catch the look of the girl who ran away.
Nobody ever really left this town, and if they did, they had the good sense to be gone forever. You held more than mere curiosity; you held their smug resentment too. They had told you when you’d left for university years ago that you will regret leaving, but you never knew they’d make you regret coming back too.
“They don’t sell them carrots at the city, do they?” The cashier taunted you, putting your groceries in a bag. You held in your retort, reading her name tag and recognizing her as one of the girls you went to school with.
“How much?” You asked, not rising to the bait.
“I would charge you extra for being you, but alas, it’s all paid for. Grab ‘em and take ‘em and leave.” She said, rolling her eyes at you. You stood still in surprise, your wallet open in your hands.
“Excuse me?” You said, bringing her attention back to you from the other customer she had started on. “Paid for? How? By whom?”
The look you got told you exactly where she thought you could stick your questions in. That was one thing you missed about the city. Everyone was too busy in their lives to care about someone else. People there were aloof, often even cold, but that suited you just fine.
“Look, I haven’t got time for you. You’re blocking the queue.”
You struggled for a moment, determined to hold your ground when the person behind you huffed in irritation. Taking your stuff, you bowed your head down and exited the store, ignoring the murmuring that followed you. Oh god, how you wished to return to the city where all that was expected of you was to pay rent and do your job? You had never expected to be laid off so suddenly, nor find yourself alone and helpless enough to let your mother convince you to return home.
It had been years, but your legs remembered the way home easily. You’d played in these alleys, stolen sweet kisses behind the trees in your youth. They remembered you just the same, the birds chirping out their hello to you, the only ones to do so sweetly as you passed.
You were almost to your home when the rumble of bikes reached you. You sidestepped, walking along the edge of the road to allow them to pass, however, they slowed near you and purred alongside. Raising your head to look at them, you caught your breath. Well, you suppose it was time for him to show up anyway. You’d been expecting him since the day you came back.
“Bucky”, You whispered, watching him dismount his bike and walk over to you. Steve and Sam smiled at you from their own bikes, though they didn’t climb down. They all seemed to have grown buffer, stronger than before and you spied some new tattoos inking under the collar of their shirts.
Bucky stopped directly before you, his long hair tied back into a small pony. His blue eyes were fixed on you, the curve on his lips widening as you began squirming under his gaze. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Doing okay sweetheart?”
His voice had deepened, a scar near his eyebrow dimpling as he regarded you. You gulped uneasily, the last day you’d seen him flashing behind your eyelids, that confrontation still ringing in your ears. It was dim hope that he’d have forgotten about that, but by the steely look in his eyes as well as the danger he exuded, you knew that to be false. Bucky Barnes was not one for forgiving, and never for forgetting.
“Hi.” You softly greeted him and his friends, managing a forced smile. Sam waved at you cheekily and your eyes flitted between the three of them nervously, your fingers playing with the strap of your grocery bag.
“Been a long time.” Bucky said, coming closer. Almost unconsciously you stepped back to maintain some distance, watching his smirk widen as he pushed you back against the wall, cornering you in the isolated alley. “Come on sweetheart, you don’t need to look so scared. The last time I saw you, you were spitting fire.”
You touched the cold wall behind your back as if asking it to give away a little. This was not how you’d expected to meet him again. You thought he’d show up at your house, ready to continue the argument that had cemented your decision of leaving this town, but meeting him in a dark alley was not something you wanted. You had no control here, nothing to defend yourself against him.
“I have to get home soon.” You pathetically said, looking away from him. “We can talk later.”
Bucky chuckled, placing a hand on the wall beside your face as he bent to bring his face level to your own. “Of course sweetheart. About time you came home, hm?” Tucking a stray hair behind your face, his eyes still hard, he smiled before taking your hand and pulling you with him. You protested, digging your heels into the ground as Steve and Sam watched in silence.
“Bucky, stop!” You said, hitting his back with your fists until he jerked around to roughly pull you to himself, your grocery falling away from you and spilling on the ground. “Aah! What are you doing?”
Anger that had not rushed in your veins in years rose to the surface again, your eyes blazing at him in fierce rage. Years ago, he had done something similar and it had sent you skipping town in the dead of night, and looking at him now you knew it was the right decision. Just like this town that never stopped living in the past, Bucky refused to move forward and change.
“What am I doing?” He asked, fingers digging painfully in your arms. “I am doing what I should have done then. What did you expect baby, that you’ll come back here and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened?”
You slapped your hands on his chest to push him away, barely managing to put an inch between you. Two people walked past you, looking at the scene before quickening their steps and going away. You didn’t even try calling for help. Nobody would interfere with Bucky and his people, not if they knew what was good for them.
“What happened between us was in the past Bucky.” You snapped, trying to keep angry tears at bay. “Don’t make the same mistakes you made then. Let me go!”
Incensed by your words, he squeezed you harder until you cried out in pain, whimpering in his hold. This was only the second time he had put his hands on you, a reminder of the strength he packed and how it was barely kept at bay.
“Buck,” Steve called suddenly, “come on man, you’re hurting her. Let up, you know we don’t hurt our own.”
Almost instantly his hold slackened, thumb running gently over the place where you’re sure you’ll bruise tomorrow. His eyes went soft, almost apologetic as he stroked your cheek. “You’ve always had a way of getting under my skin.” He said, linking your fingers together. “Come on now, I am taking you home. You’re not getting away from me again.”
As he tried to take you away, you shook your head, a traitorous tear sliding down your face. He refused to listen to anything you said, Sam and Steve ignoring your pleas to them as their bikes rumbled to life. You looked back, a hand reaching out for your fallen groceries as if they could anchor you and prevent your taking.
“Leave them. I paid for them after all so I can leave them to rot.” Bucky snapped, forcing you onto his bike. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes until he knew all your attention was on him. “Hold on. You can try to run away, but you’ll only break bones this time. This time, you won’t break my heart.”
He climbed in front on you, taking your hands and pulling them around his waist, squeezing them in warning. Then in a roar of engine, you were flying with him, the wind whipping against your tear-stained face as you drove past your house and back to the past.
Back to square one, that’s where you were at. The boys hadn’t renovated their house, but it still looked huge and intimidating. Walking in, you were flooded with the memories of your teenage years spent playing with them, your first kiss with Bucky in the kitchen, the first night you spent in his bed, the very last night you spent here and in this town. This used to be your heaven, today, it was your hell.
“Have someone bring her stuff round here.” Bucky said, his fingers wrapped around your wrist though you’d stopped struggling a while ago.
“Nat and Clint are already on it.” Sam said, chucking his shoes off and flopping dramatically on the couch.
You bit your lip at the news, scared for your mother. You’d known Nat and Clint for years, but you doubted they’d taken your leaving any better than the other members of the gang. Bucky turned to look at you and sighed, cupping your chin to press a kiss on your forehead.
“They’ll behave themselves.” He promised. “You’re my girl, your family is my family. Nobody’s gonna harm them.”
Even now with the years long gone by, he could read you like an open book. Your love may have faded, and his may have soured, but the remains of it that lingered between you were potent and strong. How had things gone so wrong? How can the man you would have once taken a bullet for scared you enough that you just left?
“Buck,” You softly said, trying to appeal to the softer side of him. “It’s not too late, please let me leave. We can talk over this.”
He had rarely denied you anything, but this man was not the man you’d known before. Bucky exchanged an amused glance with his friends before looking at you like you were the dumbest, cutest thing ever.
“Sweetie, don’t worry your head. We’ll have a lifetime to talk after the ceremony, hm? Come on, you need rest.”
Bucky started you up the stairs and you screeched, shouting curses at Steve and Sam who were scrolling down their phones. If by any fluke they let you in the kitchen, you vowed to poison the lot of them.
“What ceremony?” You asked, panting as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s stride. “Bucky! What ceremony?”
He didn’t answer until you reached his room. You sucked in a breath as you entered. This was the room you had slept your last night in town, well, not really slept. You’d crept away from his bed and rushed home to pack and disappear, leaving a scrawled note for your mother and Bucky that you’re leaving early for your studies and would not be coming back.
Bucky watched you take in the room, standing behind you with his arms around your waist. He’d taken your virginity in this bed, promised a lifetime of happiness.
“Not much has changed, has it?” He asked, placing a scratchy kiss on your neck. “You can redecorate if you want.”
You gulped as you found a picture of yourself beside his bed, one taken on your 19thbirthday, merely days before you skipped town. You both looked so happy that day. Bucky had finished university while you were only considering joining one. He hadn’t been happy about you looking for ones in the city, but that day he had promised you no arguments and fights. It was such a beautiful day with all your friends and family wishing you the very best.
“I remember that day.” Bucky said, following your gaze. “I made you cum so many times that night that I had to carry your downstairs in the morning. You were always so responsive to my touch.”
As he talked, his hands moved, roving over your frame. You shivered when he grazed your sides and under your breasts, pushing his hardness firmly into you. Whimpering, you placed a hand on his wrist to stop him and he stilled before grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face him.
“Bucky, please don’t.” You begged, tears prickling your eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
He blinked at you before smiling tenderly, tucking a strand of hair behind your year. Gently leading you backwards, he pushed until you were at the edge of the bed. With a shove, you bounced on the mattress and crawled up on your elbows, watching in fear as Bucky deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, his eyes boring into yours.
“Why am I doing this?” He asked, titling his head. His shirt fluttered to the ground, leaving him bare from waist up and you couldn’t help but stare at your name tattooed right over his heart. “I am doing this because you promised yourself to me.”
Pants roughly pushed down, he quickly came forward to pull you back by your ankle as you tried to escape. Climbing over you with only his boxers on, he held you down with one strong thigh thrown over yours, the blue in his eyes darkening.
“You remember those days?” He asked, “We were only teenagers when you promised you’d marry me. You were spoken for, always. We were always meant to be!”
His lips descended over yours, claiming them after years with a passion that hit you like a punch in the gut. You sobbed into the kiss, your nails raking across his back as you wiggled under his body.
“We were kids!” You protested, screeching when Bucky tore through your clothes to bare you to his hungry gaze. “It didn’t mean anything!”
“It meant the world to me!” Bucky harshly said, breath warm on your face. His rough fingers traced your cheek before holding your jaw in place, pressing a kiss on your pouted lips. “You meant the world to me. You still do.”
Cold air met your sweaty skin as he forced you out of your tattered clothes, licking and biting every patch of skin he exposed. You cried out, pulling on his hair to deter him.
“Bucky, this isn’t you. You wouldn’t hurt me like this.” You gently said, softening your touch until his eyes were on you. “We promised each other a lot of things. You promised never to hurt me.”
He bunched the cloth of your panty and ran his thumb over your covered slit, taking in your gasps with delight. Leaning down, his nose nuzzled into your hair and he sniffed you, holding you hostage.
“That’s right.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he kept rubbing you. “Just like you promised never to leave me. And then you did.”
Your panty was torn away with one powerful tug, it’s elastic chaffing your skin and making you cry out. Bucky’s eyes feasted on your glistening sex, his tongue running across his bottom lip in wonderment at your moist center. Carefully collecting your dewy essence on his thumb, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it, closing his eyes as he tasted you again after what felt like ages.
“Nothing intoxicates me more than your taste.” He said, holding your hands tight. Lowering his boxers, he presented you his thick cock, the very sight of which had you tremble. What is this large before? “I would have loved to taste you again, to have you come in my mouth again and again and then take you until the sun preyed upon our tryst with voyeuristic eyes. But I have waited far too long for you. Today is the day I will bind you to myself. Forever.”
Every plea falling from your lips meant nothing to him and he positioned himself over your weeping slit, his hardness lubed in your juices. Your wrists were pinned beside your head, his blue eyes churning like the evening sky and gleaming with the light of burning stars. In one push of his hips, he sheathed himself inside your warmth, your gasp matched only by his groan that reverberated through the room.
“Oh god!” You exclaimed, struggling to take him in. It had been far too long since you’d laid with a man, especially one as large at Bucky. He stretched you to accommodate him, rolling his pelvis until you keened pathetically.
“Oh yes, I am your god. And by sundown tomorrow, I’ll be your husband.”
He maintained a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you in long strokes that had you whimpering. It felt too good, too sensual. Bucky burned with the need to possess you, but it was impossible to separate his love away from his obsession. You felt his light and his darkness in equal amounts, the sparks of his fire reaching you and forcing you to burn too.
“Bucky – I, please.” You begged, incoherent with pleasure. The last night you were under him flashed behind your eyes, a major wave of déjà vu rolling down your spine. A heated promise of matrimony was made, followed by an equally powerful night in the sheets where he forced you to shout to the heavens that you’d take his ring and name. The very next day, you were gone. But today, he held on tight. There won’t be any escaping now.
“Look at me.” He hissed, toying with your clit, bruising your shoulders and neck with his passionate kisses. “Look at me and fall apart. Let me see your walls break down. I am claiming you again baby, and there won’t be no leaving this time.”
You came like a thunderstorm ravaged your insides, flooding your channel with heat that bubbled around his length. His breath hitched, eyes squeezed tight as you clamped around him. It took a while for you to realize you were crying, the salt of your tears on Bucky’s lips as he kissed them away, eyes too tender for the way he was taking you against your will.
A monster had no right to be this beautiful, nor so full of love.
Biting your lips, you shook you head as the familiar tingling in your abdomen began anew. Bucky tensed, his thrusts choppier and jerkier as he neared his edge too.
“Yes baby, one more time.” He said, “Come on, let me love you again. Open your heart to me.”
The tidal wave of emotions that you couldn’t keep at bay swept over you again, your back arching. Your nipples scratched against the hair on Bucky’s chest, the added stimulation causing you to groan in pleasure far too great to bear. Shuddering in delight, you fell apart and Bucky grunted, holding you tighter as he prepared to unload into you.
“I’m gonna fuck our brat into you.” He promised and your eyes widened. You weren’t on any pills. “Let’s see you run away now. Once you’re my wife, the mother of my child, you’ll never leave.”
“No!” You shouted, but to no avail. Bucky let out a moan, his face buried in your neck as he came inside you, flooding you with his spent. You cried at the feeling of his warmth inside you, cried at your freewill being snapped like a stretched rubber band. His hold loosened, an arm wrapped around your waist and bringing you in his side.
Turning your face to him, you sniffled when he softly wiped away your tears. Kissing you deep, he lost all the hardness that he had had earlier today, bringing to you the wounded look that had probably stayed with him for years after your departure.
“I love you so much. I never stopped loving you.” He said, blindly reaching back into his nightstand until he got the velvet lined box out. You swallowed thickly because your reality was staring you in the face with an ultimatum. No was not an option.
Knowing that the rest of your life might go much easier with a loving man by your side, you sidled closer, brushing his scruffy jaw gently. His eyes misted at your voluntary touch, overwhelmed. You’d loved this man once more than life itself. If the only shot at happiness you had was reigniting that, you’d start now.
“I will love you again too.” You promised, not knowing if it was your vulnerability or your helplessness that prompted this. “You gotta give me some time.”
Taking your hand, Bucky slipped in a diamond ring and kissed your fingers before kissing you.
“You’ll have all the time in the world almost Mrs. Barnes. We’re getting married tomorrow.”
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Sweeter than Sugar
Summary: She broke his heart but you're not going to let her win. Bucky deserves the best and you're going to give it to him.
Pairing: Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader, mentions of former relationship with OFC.
Word Count: 4K
Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), body shaming by OFC, language, mentions of insecurities. painful break up (not reader) bit angst, fluff. As always 18+ only.
A/N: Do not copy, rewrite, repost or translate my works. Comments and reblogs are welcomed. Beta'd by the lovely @deann and @makbarnes but all mistakes are my own.
A/N II: @star-spangled-bingo 2021 Squared filled: Curtain fic and @gotnofucks Body positivity challenge
"Wait till you try this. I think this is my best batch yet." Bucky promises as he pulls the tray out of the oven with his vibranium hand.
You cringe for a second before remembering that he can handle the heat.
You stretch, looking around the large bright kitchen. A fresh breeze floats through the open window carrying in notes of rain and freshly cut grass and the faint sounds of the neighbor's kids playing with their dogs.
Leaning back in your seat, you turn your gaze back to him, a faint smile on your lips as he blows on the pastries, cute little puffs he named after you.
His blue eyes shine under the soft yellow lights, an apron under the swell of his pudgy belly. He looks incredible, wearing only a pair of black boxers that stretch across the curves of his ass. His hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there's always something smeared across his cheek.
Yesterday, it had been red velvet frosting, and today, cherry.
Bucky scoops a puff on to a small white plate, grabbing a fork from the drawer. He beams, his entire face radiant as he walks towards you.
That's the look that makes your stomach twist and leaves you feeling dizzy.
Dating Bucky has been a dream. He's loving, kind and he looks at you with such love that you lose your breath just thinking about him.
According to him, you've improved his life in several ways; he swears his food tastes better now, that you somehow make his cakes perfect, his frostings sweeter, and well, he can’t look at a peach without grinning like a drunk-in-love idiot.
You’ve spent many late mornings and lazy afternoons watching him patter around the kitchen, listening to him explain his baking processes while you lounge in a chair.
You don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but he speaks with such passion, his hands animatedly flying in the air as he talks about chocolates, melting points, and the differences in pans.
Bucky has discovered early on that he loves to watch you eat. To be more specific, if it's his food. Only his food, if he’s being honest. He gets so nervous every time that his stomach plummets because he wants to make things for you.
Give you so many things.
Starting with your own custom-made pastry.
“Here, Peach, it just melts on your tongue,” his deep voice lowering to a near moan.
He slips the pastry into your open mouth, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip as you swallow. Oh, your eyes almost roll back in your head when the flavors explode on your taste buds. You’ve never tasted anything that wonderful.
“Oh my god, Bucky,” you gasp, leaning forward for more. “I-that’s so good! Can I have another?”
He grins, lopsided and wide, his heart thundering so hard it feels like it might fly out of his chest. Bucky will give you pastries as much as you want if you keep looking at him like that. He puts his all into his baking and the fact that you enjoy it makes him feel as if he can walk on air.
Bucky kisses your forehead as you chew, pushing away from the table, he slides on his sock-covered feet to the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”
“What do we have?” You giggle as he dances in front of the fridge, calling out options for you.
It’s hard to believe that the carefree man in front of you is the same one that was ashamed to remove his shirt a few weeks ago.
Bucky holds your hands at your sides, fingers laced between yours as he feasts between your thighs. He promised to make you come for him at least three times and you swear it’s been double that by now. His warm, wet tongue flicking over your swollen, sensitive clit over and over, sucking and pulling it into his mouth like he can’t get enough of you.
You moan incoherently, voice hoarse from begging and mewling, your legs limp around his broad shoulders. “Buc-Bucky, oh right there, Bucky,” you plead, feeling pressure build in your belly as his tongue traces patterns over you.
Bucky grinned, his face covered in your slick. He can’t remember the last time he had a better meal in his life. “That’s my girl, so sweet, need one more taste, just a little more,” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit again. Your mouth falls open in a wordless scream, back arching off the bed when he gently shakes his head, sucking so hard that you see stars.
Bucky groans actually groans deep and vulgar when you cum,and you feel it as your body explodes, waves of pleasure surging through you until you’re gushing on his beard. He eases up, nuzzling into your puffy folds as you come down from your high. Bucky looks up, his dark slate-blue eyes taking in your heaving chest, a bead of sweat rolling down your belly.
“One more?” he says hopefully, wanting to dive back into your pussy.
Your eyes widen as you frantically shake your head. “No. Oh no. Bucky, I can’t, I really can’t, I’m not sure I can handle any more.” You laugh breathlessly, tugging one of your hands free from his tight grip. You rake your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. "Besides, I’ve been dreaming about you fucking me until I can’t walk.”
A faint blush sweeps across his cheeks as he averts his eyes. “Peach,” he mumbles shyly like he just didn’t spend the past hour worshiping your pussy with his mouth.
Bucky stands up, wiping a hand down his face. He stares at his glistening palm for a second, and then his pink tongue darts out, swiping across the wet surface. You wonder if he’s aware that he's moaning, your pussy throbbing at the guttural sounds.
“You’re filthy,” you jest when he does it again. His face gets even redder as he sucks on his finger.
“You taste better than my pies,” he retorts. “I could eat you all day, every day.”
“Tomorrow, for sure, but right now I want you inside me.”
His smile drops a little when you tell him to get undressed. He’s been dreading this moment, doing everything he can to avoid it. You scoot back on the bed, reaching out for him. Bucky looks down at his body, at his belly, his eyes narrowing, he scratches the back of his neck, telling himself he can do this.
He lifts the edge of his navy blue Henley, freezing when he hears her voice in his head. “Who would want a fatty? No one is going to love you looking like that.” Even now it stings thinking about her. Bucky glances over at you, his heartbreaking at the thought of you rejecting him.
Bucky drops his shirt and reaches for the lamp. “One second.” He says. An unmistakable hint of sadness in his voice has you sitting up. He’s never sounded like that before.
You tilt your head to the side, searching his face. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”
“Just gonna turn the lights off first.” The corner of his lips lifts in a weak, watery smile.
You move to your knees and grab his large hand before he can switch them off. “Why?”
Bucky swallows, “no reason, just like the lights off, 'is all.”
Bucky’s admittedly good at a lot of things, but lying isn’t one of them. He briefly meets your gentle gaze, worry and fear swimming in his beautiful clear blue eyes.
Placing your hands on his chest, you grab his chin. “Bucky, look at me.” He immediately follows your soft command. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
Bucky blinks, shaking his head, almost confused at the thought that you could do anything wrong. “No, no, you’re perfect! It’s me. I don’t wanna disappoint you.” His voice tapers off in a whisper, hearing her sharp laughter the last night they were together. “I know I’m fat, so it would be better if we turned off the lights, that way you don’t have to look at me. “
You stare at your generous, doting boyfriend. “Why wouldn’t I want to look at you?,” you question, befuddled because who on earth would jump at the chance to see a naked Bucky Barnes.
He shrugs a shoulder, his somber eyes drifting down. He grabs his belly and jiggles it. Another shrug followed by a quiet, “I look different with my clothes off.”
You crane your head back, “I love your belly, it’s perfect. Who made you feel like you have to hide it?”
Bucky sighs, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “My ex, Moxie- “
Bucky dated her two years ago. She latched on to him when he and Steve bought the bakery, wanting to be the girlfriend of the rising baking star.
Bucky slowly gained weight as he sampled his baking and designed dessert menus for local restaurants, his joy for baking expanding each day, finally getting to see his dreams become reality.
He hadn’t noticed the changes in his body until one night Moxie cruelly pointed them out.
He was getting ready for bed, eager to be with his girl after a full day of running around. He had been telling her about how another restaurant wanted his input, so excited to share his news that he didn’t notice the way she glared at him.
Tossing his shirt in the hamper, he turned to her and smiled, his hands on his belt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day baby, I can’t- “
Moxie sneered at him, pretending to gag. “Are you serious?”
Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Um, what?”
“Um, what,” she mocked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. There's a pause, tension seeping into the room. “You know what, I have to say it, I can't take this anymore James. Look at you and look at me, why the fuck would I let you touch me anymore?”
Moxie sighed, “can you put on your shirt back on or something because that- “she gestured at him “-is disgusting” She let out an irritated groan when he flinched at her words.
A punch to the gut would have hurt less. Bucky felt his heart split. “Moxie,” he whispered, unable to find words to express the pain currently ripping through him.
“Look, I didn’t sign up for this, you were in shape when we got together, what the hell happened to you? Why do you think I stopped letting you touch me.” She ranted, ignoring his soft pleas for her to stop.
“Either lose the weight or I’ll fuck Steve, at least he still looks good.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning, “can you go somewhere else, I don’t want you accidentally rolling over me and squishing me in your sleep.”
His mouth floundered open, but he couldn’t speak. It all hurt too much, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was too thick and his chest grew tighter with each breath; he needed to get away, terrified of what might happen if he cried in front of her.
Bucky shuffled out the room, his heart shattering with every step. He thought she was happy, that he made her happy. Her laughter following him out to the hallway made his head droop even more.
What did he do wrong?
He spent the night on the couch, staring at his old pictures through tear-filled eyes, Bucky always had a little fullness to him, but he was always happy with his body. And he had been having so much fun with the grand opening and all the new opportunities that he never noticed that he stopped needing belts and his shirts were a little snug over his belly.
Bucky called Steve, his best friend fuming when he told him what happened. By the time he was done speaking with him, Bucky felt a little better, his heart may have been in pieces but he knew what he needed to do.
He kicked her out the next morning.
Much to Moxie’s surprise and Bucky's. He may be chubby but he's not going to be her pushover either.
Bucky ignored her apologies and said she had to go. It shocked her when Steve had shown up with a roll of garbage bags, tossing them at her feet with a sharp quip that he doesn’t fuck losers. Both men stood side by side, watching silently as she packed her belongings.
The only things she left behind were his broken heart and a few nagging insecurities that plagued him.
He finishes, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his confession, you want nothing more than to stamp out the sadness marring his beautiful eyes.
“I thought she loved me but--“ he sighs, “--I don’t want you to look at me the way she did, I love you too much, Peach, and I know I should probably lose a few -”
You’ve never been angrier in your life. You want to punch little Ms. Moxie in her throat, she better hope she never runs into you because they will have to pry you off of her.
Clearing your head, you clasp his face in your hands and pull him down for a kiss. “Bucky Barnes, you are the sweetest man I know, you’re beautiful and I love everything about you.”
You silence his objections with another kiss. “I mean it Bucky, I love all of you. You don’t need to change anything.”
Bucky swallows the small protest, letting himself relax. You’re not her, you won’t hurt him. Placing a kiss on his soft, round belly, you murmur, “you have no idea how sexy you are, honey.”
You stand on the bed, holding on to his bicep for balance, and tug his shirt off. Looking down at him, you bite your lip. He’s ridiculously handsome and you’re going to prove it to him.
You pepper kisses along the curve of his neck as you sink back down, praising him and telling him how much you love him, describing in vivid detail how each part of his body is perfect.
His confidence and love for you growing with each word. By the time you reach the band of his boxers, he panting, his eyes darkening with an almost feral need to possess you.
Bucky tears off the last barrier keeping you from him and he pounces. You giggle as he pushes you into the soft blankets, the solid, comforting weight of his body encompassing you as he kisses you with such passion you forget to breathe. His warm lips melding into yours, his wet tongue dipping into your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue as it dips into your mouth.
Bucky reaches down with one hand, grabbing his cock, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours so he can gaze into your eyes. Bucky watches your mouth fall open, a gasp pouring out when he guides his thick cock into you.
He rolls his hips, moving deeper into your wet, hot heat. “That’s it Peach, you’re so good,” He brushes his lips across yours, swallowing your oh Bucky as he stretches your tight pussy around him. The slight burn gives aways to pure bliss, you circle your hips after a minute. A quiet I’m ready breathed into his mouth.
Bucky thrusts languidly into your pussy, each deliberate slow drag of his throbbing cock against your soft walls sends bursts of pleasure up your belly and down your spine. His lovemaking tender, yet so possessive that your head is reeling.
He makes sure that you feel all of him, each inch as you clench down, greedy for more of him, even as he goes deeper and deeper, his soft lips caressing your neck. His body keeping you pinned, so you have to take everything he’s giving you.
That pressure builds again, heavy and hot in your belly, digging your heels into the top of his thighs, you meet his strokes, pleading with him to please move a little faster, you need it so bad.
You don’t have to beg; he wants you to cum for him; he wants to feel your sweet pussy flutter around him as you cry out his name.
Bucky sucks a bruise on your throat, his hips pounding into yours. The headboard smacking against the wall with each powerful thrust. The dull thuds drowned out by your loud moans, the pressure getting more intense.
“Bucky,—” you cry out, scratching his lower back when he grinds his hips down, “—oh fuck, do that, do that again,” you frantically chant, slapping your hands on his ass, keening when he does, god yes, he does it just right, hitting a tender spot inside your cunt so hard that you bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“That it Peach, is that what you need.” He slips a hand between your bodies, his wide fingers circling your clit, “Go on, cum for me, give it to me Peach, be my good girl, and cum for me.”
You do, your walls clenching down as the pressure snaps, sensations firing off as your orgasms winds through you. Bucky’s pace falters, becomes erratic when he feels you milking his cock, unable to hold himself back any longer he lets himself go, relishing in your warmth until he spills inside you.
He tries to roll off of you, but you wrap your arms around him, murmuring for him to stay for a minute. You smooth your hands over his slick back, Bucky relaxes on top of you, grinning at your contented sigh. “I love you Peach.”
“Love you too,” you respond, plotting all the ways you’re going to let him know how much he means to you.
After that night, you began to praise Bucky, complimenting his body every chance you got, smacking his ass whenever he walked past you, hugging and kissing him.
The first couple of weeks, he would hide his face behind one of his large hands and his cheeks would resemble one of his bright red apples. “Peach, you don’t have to, I mean I’m-” he would stammer each time, always tucking his hair behind his ears.
It took you three days to figure out that he has a praise kink and you amped it. He barely opened his eyes before you were saying something that made him hide his face behind his pillow, laughing when you wiggled under it to tell him how good he looks when he smiles.
While you loved making him blush, you cherished how confident he became. And you reaped the benefits, one second he was a bashful baker with buttercream frosting on his forehead, the next he was bending you over his counter, railing you so good you couldn’t even scream his name.
After a while, he stopped avoiding the bathroom mirror in the mornings. And you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the first time you saw him cooking, shirtless, in the kitchen. He turned when he heard your footsteps, his face turning that familiar shade of red as you openly gawked.
“C’mon Peach, don’t you start-” he playfully grumbles, his lip twitching as he held in his smile, he moved back to the frying pan turning off the stove as he braces himself.
You squeal, flinging yourself at him, peppering his back with kisses. You couldn’t contain the litany of praises on your tongue, so proud of him. Bucky twisted in your grasp, cupping your face in his hands. “God I love you Peach.”
Bucky and Steve are celebrating the grand opening of another bakery. The largest one to date. The new building is full of investors, press, other bakers and chefs, a live band playing in the corner, drinks, and food everywhere, and of course the tower of desserts in the middle of the room. The atmosphere light and airy, glasses clinking, people dancing and every kind of cake, pies, and pastry imaginable on silver platters through the room.
You’ve never had so much fun, although a slightly buzzed Bucky is having an even better time because you’re wearing one of his favorite dresses. You remember when he first saw you in it, you twirled out of the dressing room and he nearly lost it in the middle of the store.
The more he celebrates, the more he’s giving you that look. Steve has to keep interfering, he’s close to going feral in front of all his guests.
Steve sent him to the kitchen after he caught him trying to put his hand between your thighs. You’re laughing as a contrite Bucky gets up from the table to refill the rapidly diminishing display.
“You know I’ve known Buck my whole life and I’ve never seen him this happy.” Steve remarks as he takes a seat across from you. His warm blue eyes glistening. “Thank you for that. He’s been through a lot and you’re the best thing that happened to him.”
Your cheeks get heated at his words. Steve leans forward, holding your hand between his. “I mean it, even though he’s getting on my last nerve talking about you.“
Steve squeezes your hand as he looks up at the ceiling for a second. “God, the man never shuts up, and I’m this close to strangling him if he compares you to another peach, but I love-“
He cuts off, his head jerks back so fast, you think something struck him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
You turn around in your chair, searching the crowded room. “Who are you talking about?”
“Moxie,” Steve spits out, his hand curling into a fist. “White dress by the bar.”
You find her flirting with one of the investors. Moxie puts her hand on his chest, her shrill laugh cutting through the surrounding conversations. Whatever she tried fails spectacularly. The tall, sturdy blonde grimaces and walks away. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t want to slam her face into the wall.
She spots Steve and waves, making her way through the crowd. “Hey, long time no see.”
Steve raises a brow, his eyes hardening. “Why are you here?”
She laughs, patting his shoulder. “I’m here to apologize to Bucky, I know he misses me, he must be lonely.”
“Really?” you question, keeping your voice light and even.
Moxie dismissively glances at you before returning her attention to Steve. You chuckle under your breath, tapping your heel on the floor.
Don’t ruin your man’s event. Don’t ruin your mans’ event. You repeat the thought as you inhale through your nose.
“So I heard you two are doing really well.” She says, her manicured nails roaming over Steve’s suit. “Really well.”
Steve flicks her fingers off him, “We are. No Bucky’s not lonely. He doesn’t miss you. He’s very happy. With her.”
Moxie’s polite veneer cracks when Steve points at you. Waving your fingers at her, you grin at her. “You go near my Bucky and I’ll rip that cheap necklace off and shove it down your throat.”
She turns to Steve, gesturing to you as if she's the innocent one here; he raises his glass, blowing a harsh breath through his lips. “Don’t look at me, I still don’t fuck losers, but I’ll call if you if that changes.”
You laugh in your empty glass when she sputters. She turns to you, hand on her hip. You slowly raise your eyes, returning her stare. Part of you wanting her to do something, so you can wipe the smirk off her overly painted face.
“Whatever, I don’t need this. Keep the fattie. I can find another rich loser like that.” She snaps her fingers, storming over to the bar. You blink a few times in disbelief. The audacity of this bitch, thinking that she can stay and mingle at his event.
You're debating if you should have her thrown out by one of the staff or if you should drag her out by her hair.
You look her up and down as you ponder your choices, pausing when you see the edge of a tag sticking out the back of her dress. Hmm, interesting. She must plan on returning it after tonight.
A devious smirk slowly takes over your face, you know exactly what you’re going to do to little Ms. Moxie.
You glance at Steve, picking up his wineglass. Steve shakes his head while grabbing your hand. “Hey hey, I know what you’re thinking, and no.”
Before you can say anything, he’s pouring more burgundy wine into the glass until it’s nearly sloshing over the sides. “If you’re going do it, you gotta do it right.”
You exchange knowing glances. No one hurts Bucky. You saunter over to her, keeping your hand steady, not wanting to lose a single drop on the floor.
“Hey Moxie,” you call out. She turns around and you ‘trip’ over your heels, the deep red liquid flying forward in a perfect arch, splashing across her ivory dress, her face and you even got some in her hair.
“Oops, gosh, I am so clumsy,” you state, hiding your grin as she shrieks.
Steve jumps up, offering to help before she can swing at you. “I got you, darling.”
He places a hand on her back, quickly ushering her away “a little club soda will get that right out,” he reassures a pouting, whining Moxie.
He's lying through his teeth, that stain will never come out. Steve gets a peek at the price tag, almost laughing at the $899 imprinted on the card. He maintains his façade, leading her through the room, he stops, giving her a wide smile.
“And you can find some at the drugstore down the street.” He states, opening the front door and pushing her out. Her indignant shouts cut off when he slams the door in her face.
You throw your head back and cackle, startling some guests around the bar, you apologize for your outburst between fits of laughter, wiping the tears pricking at your eyes. You wave down the amused bartender, placing an order for you and Steve.
Steve joins you, raising his fresh glass of wine in a toast. “No one fucks with Bucky.”
Neither you nor Steve realizes Bucky saw the whole thing. He ducks back into the kitchen, clutching the tray of Cannelés to his chest. For weeks after the breakup, he had rehearsed what he was going to say that next time he came face to face with Moxie.
But what you and Steve did was even better, the love of his life and his best friend always looking out for him.
Loving him unconditionally.
And just like that, the last traces of his insecurities vanished.
Later that night, you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. He smiles at your hand on his belly. He places his large hand over yours, wondering how he got so lucky to have you.
And if Steve would kill him if he named another dessert after you.
He’ll risk it.
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Alright whore, you asked for this 😘
Stepdad!Bucky making reader squirt for the first time then going completely feral and shoving her face in the mess she made while he just fucks her into the mattress
Make A Mess For Daddy
Holy fuck, I did ask for this didn’t I? 🥵
Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky x 18+F!Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, stepdad/daddy kink, p in v, squirting, humilation, mess kink. 18+.
Word Count: 500ish
Bucky's jealously often reared it's ugly head, and he never failed to take it out on you.
He'd been waiting for you that night, sipping a whiskey over ice in his armchair when you crept through the door just after midnight - glaring at you accusingly as you kicked off your shoes and tried to ignore his frustrations.
You thought maybe tonight was different, that maybe he'd just let it go and allow you to disappear to your room without even so much as a snide remark about your date with Peter. You were wrong, of course.
"You fuck that kid tonight, huh? Walkin’ around dressed like a whore, bet he couldn’t keep his grubby hands off you." He grunts - sharp, insistent stabs of his cock against your cervix causing you to wince in discomfort. Bucky never cared for your pleasure when he was like this. Possessive, marking his territory, fucking you until all you can remember is his name. "I asked you a question. Better fuckin' answer it, princess."
"N-shit-no!" You rasp, your mouth dry from panting into the comforter. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is hypnotising. No other man would ever compare to him. "I didn't. I swear."
"That's right, you fuckin' didn't. You know who this slut cunt belongs to, don't you?" He fucks you harder with each word that slips from his filthy mouth, pushing you further towards the edge, an unfamiliar pressure building in your abdomen - burning between your thighs. "Let's see how much of a mess you can really make, shall we? C'mon baby, make a mess for daddy."
Bucky pulls his cock free of your cunt, nudging your knees apart as his hand slips down - fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with a ferocity that makes your eyes roll back. Your face pressed into the mattress, you sob at the pressure inside you, an intensity you've never experienced before.
"Daddy, I can't-" he shuts you up with a harsh pinch at your sensitive nub, but you can't stop. "Doesn't feel right, please, I think I need to-"
A sharp slap of his palm against your pussy sends you hurtling - bliss searing through your veins and your knees weak as you feel moisture pool beneath you.
"Well fuck, would you look at that?" Bucky hums, damp fingers curling around the back of your neck as he tugs you up against his chest. He tightens his grasp and forces your gaze down - the large, dark patch of moisture staring you in the face. "You did make a mess, didn't you baby?”
Shame swirls in your gut as he chuckles against your ear, dragging your body backwards just enough so that when he forces you back down, your cheek squelches against the moist puddle of arousal - the taste of it marring the corner of your mouth.
“My nasty girl, that’s what you are.” He grunts in satisfaction, sliding his cock back into your overworked channel, his balls slapping against your clit when he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Lick it up, princess. Be a good girl and clean up after yourself.”
God, it makes you cringe how much you enjoy it. Makes your pussy tighten up around his girth, has you rocking back against him - the globes of your ass bouncing off his hips.
You do as he says, tongue slipping out to lap at the mess beneath you; his palm splayed out against the side of your head, forcing to hold your position.
"That's it. Get it all. When you've cleaned that up, I'm gonna make a whole new mess - just for you."
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Behind the Storm
summary: On a mission, you're hit with a spell that takes away your ability to see. Bucky does what he can to make you feel safe.
pairing: Bucky x reader
word count: 7.7k
warnings: canon level violence, blind!reader, nightmares, bucky is protective af,
a/n: I hope the anon who requested the blind!reader fic months ago sees this, so sorry it took so long! ✨
Blood trails down the back of Bucky’s neck; thick and oozing from the rusted pipe now discarded to the corner of the room. His assailant lays face-down in the concrete, unconscious. Steve’s outline sways in double vision a few feet away as Bucky gently taps his fingertips to the source of the bleeding. He winces at the touch and vibranium onyx comes back coated in red.
“Where is she?” Bucky murmurs through the pulsing in his head. He doesn’t have to specify who he’s referring to as Steve calls for you to check in on the coms. It’s a silent agreement they shared— the knowledge that it will always be you he’s asking for. Bucky leans against the wall, half holding himself up as he waits for your voice to come through the coms. Instead, all he hears is crumbling static.
Suddenly, traces of faded purple burst into the hallway—remnants of an exposition of light and energy and power from several hundred feet away. A strangled scream follows and Bucky is sprinting towards the epicenter before Steve can warn him otherwise.
There’s no mistaking that sound. The break in the voice, the panic, the fear. Bucky runs until the room is coated in blinding light, until the purple energy touches over every surface and seeps through the cracks of the concrete. Until it’s consuming everything around him.
He knows that sound because he’s heard it in the dead of night. It’s familiar and agonizing and his stomach plunges deep below the surface, buried under the foundation and dirt and burning through the center of the earth. You cry out again and it echoes through the halls—chasing him, mocking him. He can’t get there fast enough.
Bucky doesn’t spare the time to check whether the witch still occupies the room as he races inside. Darkness tunnels around his vision, his heart pounding so violently in his chest he’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline or the concussion threatening to pull him under. None of it matters as he filters through the purple light in search of you.
When he finally spots you huddled in the corner of the room, desperately clenching your hands around a rusted wrench, Bucky can’t find it in himself to feel even an ounce of relief. Your back is pressed to the wall, protecting yourself. You’re trembling, panicked, and Bucky’s not sure his heart will ease for even a moment until you’re safe on the jet and that terrible ringing has left his ears.
“Y/n,” he says your name gently, but you flinch violently enough you nearly knock your head against the wall.
“Bucky? Is that you?” you call, nearly shouting into the purple haze. Bucky is only standing a few feet ahead of you and while you’re clouded by the remnants of magic, he can see your outline perfectly clear. Still, he notices that you’re looking beyond his shoulder as you call for him. Vacant stare, unfocused eyes.
“Yeah,” he replies gingerly, stepping closer. “I’m right here. Can you see me?”
You shake your head rapidly, your grip flexing against the wrench as if you might be afraid of what else laid within the purple mist. The remnants have faded since whatever the witch did to cause such an explosion of power and Bucky turns his head to find Steve standing at the back of the room. They share a concerned look.
“It’s too dark in here,” you tell him, trying to inch closer to him though each step is apprehensive, like you don’t see him at all. “She must have cut the power. Harkness was right there but then she... I don’t know... it’s too dark, Bucky. I can’t... I can’t see anything.”
Bucky’s heart stills. It freezes cold within his rib cage and blood stops flowing entirely. Daylight seeps in through the broken window to your left and the sunlight touches gently against your skin. Do you not see the stream of light? Can you not feel the warmth on your skin?
You move forward in search of him and you collide against his chest. Startled, you raise the wrench out of instinct and Bucky manages to wrestles it from your grip and toss it to the floor before you could land a swing. You start to panic again, screaming out for him because you don’t realize it’s his arms that wrap around you, his arms trying to ease your fear.
“Hey! Hey! It’s me!” Bucky warns as he blocks an uppercut you attempt to swing at his jawline.
You still, brows furrow in confusion. “Bucky?”
But Bucky doesn’t respond. He can’t. Now that he’s close enough and the magic has faded from the room entirely, he can see what’s become of your eyes and it renders him speechless. Stone molds through his body, tension coursing like mud in his veins, and still—his damn heart won’t stop beating so violently it might crack through his ribs and spill to the floor by your feet.
In place of the vibrant shades he’s grown to adore is a paralyzing storm of dark grey clouds. Swirling through the whites of your eyes, sinking into your irises. Deep and heavy as if lightening might strike within their storm. Thunder rolling just over the hills. They consume every inch.
Bucky reaches forward and grabs the sides of your face. It’s harsher than he ever intended, but he needs you to be still, needs to understand how this could have possibly happened, how the light and color could have been drained from you completely. The suddenness of the touch startles you, but he can’t focus on anything beside the darkness that has consumed your eyes. It terrifies him straight to his bones.
“Bucky? What’s wrong?” you ask him even though he knows you can’t see the hardwired clench in his jaw or the way his eyes screw shut to stop the tears from building. He doesn’t know how to respond or what to say to you. He doesn’t know how to not make you as scared as he is.
“What is it?” Steve calls from the edge of the room, his voice taunt.
You flinch at the sound of Steve’s voice, your gaze turning in his direction and though you’re looking straight at him you still ask, “Steve? Was that you?”
“It’s him,” Bucky replies defeatedly.
You shake your head and his hands fall from the side of your face. “How can you be sure? Harkness has pulled tricks on us before and with the power cut—”
“The power’s not out, Y/n.”
Bucky swallows back what he’s sure is a pool of blood from the inside of his cheek. It’s bitter on his tongue. “The lights are working fine. The sun is shining through the windows. I—I can see him. I can see you, sweetheart.”
“What? No. That’s not...” you step back a few paces, oblivious to the wrench Bucky had cast aside. He lunges for you before you trip over it and still, your heel catches on the edge and you lose your balance. There’s barely time to yelp before you’re back in his arms. He stabilizes you the best he can and then, you glide your shoe against the floor, touching the wrench with a startling realization.
The panic starts to distort your features. Your chest starts rising too quickly, your hands begin to shake. Suddenly, you’re uneasy in your stance, knees falling weak as you try to look at Bucky’s face, but all you can see is an unforgiving darkness. It swallows him whole. It swallows you, too.
“I can’t... I can't see...” you start to murmur between shallowed breaths. “Why can’t I... Why can’t I see?”
“You're going to be okay. I swear it on my life that I’ll fix this,” Bucky tells you because he can see the panic attack coming on. He knows the signs. He’s seen them before in the mirror and he gathers you within his arms. You’re shaking against him and all he can do is hold you tighter. “Just focus on me, okay? Just on me. I’ll fix this, sweetheart. I promise I will.”
It takes twenty minutes before he gets you to calm down enough to make it to the jet. He carries you through the ruins of the warehouse and across the vacant lot because your legs are too weak to walk. The hyperventilation has worn you thin and as you curl against his chest, he can feel the unease buzzing under your skin.
With every step, your hands clench around the straps on his suit like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go.
The only reason you sleep at all is because of the sedative Banner gave you. You had clung so desperately to Bucky’s arm on the jet home, fused yourself like an extension of his own body when you landed back at the compound. You screamed until your voice gave out as the medical team attempted to separate you. You didn’t know they were SHIELD. You couldn’t see the familiar faces. All you knew was someone was trying to pull you away from Bucky and you fought against it with everything you had left.
Bucky tried to tell you who they were. He tried to get you to listen over the noise but you couldn’t see the way he reached for you, couldn’t see the desperation in his eyes or the desolation dragging him under. You were still screaming when Banner put the syringe in your arm; that same ringing returning to his ears, the awful sound of your screams he couldn’t erase from his memory.
The moment your body fell slack, heavy limbs sinking into the gurney as they carted you away, Bucky sank down to his knees. At the center of the landing bay, the Winter Soldier's helplessness was on display for anyone to witness. He couldn't find the strength to move until Steve came in search of him an hour later.
“Buck?” Steve stands at the frame of Bucky’s room, leaning into the open doorway. His arms fold over his chest as a short, tight smile pressed at his lips. “Did you even try to sleep?”
Bucky sighs and shakes his head. He knows better than to lie. He’s seen the dark marks under his own eyes.
“You’re listening for her,” Steve says. It’s not a question.
“You know how bad her nightmares use to be, Steve,” Bucky replies slowly. He glances over his shoulder to the wall behind him. You’re separated by a few feet worth of drywall and foundation and still, it’s as if he can hear every breath you take. He can hear the rustle of your sheets as you toss and turn. The squeak of the floorboards when you pace at night. It’s the only barrier between you.
Your screams used to carry through the entire floor. Steve and Sam would be hovering outside your room by the time Bucky got you to calm down enough to close your eyes again without fear of the demons you’d find. He never had the courage to stay and you never dared to ask, so he reluctantly pulled away each time your breathing fell back to an even pace. He’d slip his body out from under your hold and he’d pass Steve and Sam lingering in the hall, talking quietly amongst themselves as if they too hadn’t been awoken by the monsters lurking in your dreams.
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “We don’t know when the spell will wear off. If it ever will. Wanda is doing everything she can to track down Harkness but—”
A scream rips through the walls and it pulls the breath straight from Bucky’s lungs. He knows that scream. He’s committed that awful, agonizing sound to memory and on instinct, Bucky sprints into the hall. He slams his shoulder on the doorframe on his way out and a sliver of wood breaks off.
“Get Banner!” Bucky shouts to Steve, pointing back to the med wing. Steve disappears down the end of the hallway without an ounce hesitancy.
Your nightmares have never sounded this real; as if the demons might actually be crawling from under your bed and through the shadows to devour you whole. Your voice breaks as if they’re consuming you alive. Like a small child afraid of the monsters in her closet, sheets pulled tight above her head— with only the slight shift of a t-shirt from the window’s draft, you scream as if you've seen bared teeth and scales.
Bucky breaks the hinges on your door as he shoves his way inside. He barely has a second to adjust to the darkness of the room before he registers you fumbling for the gun on your nightstand. There’s no hesitation as you unlatch the safety and aim in his direction. Bucky’s eyes widen.
Bucky blocks the bullet on his left forearm as he advances on you—the sharp click of metal to vibranium and sparks burst from the contact. He doesn’t let himself look at the tears streaming down your face, the sweat beaded into your hair, or the bullet now lodged into your dresser as he wraps his hand around the gun and yanks it viciously from your grasp before you can manage to pull the trigger again.
“No! Stop!” You scream as if he’s one of the villains in your dreams. Vile and evil and ruthless in his pursuit. There’s such fear in your voice that it nearly paralyzes Bucky on the spot.
It’s only then that he realizes that the lines have blurred between nightmare and reality. You can't open your eyes and see the comfort of your bedroom, the safety of the compound. You can't prove to yourself that the demons are only trapped within your head. Because you’re trapped there, too.
“Y/n! Y/n, listen to me!” Bucky shouts. He fights his way to crawl on top of you, pinning your body to the mattress just to keep you from hurting yourself. You whimper and he molds his palms to the sides of your face. Even as you scratch at him and break blood on his cheek, he’s unyielding. He barely feels the sting of it when you’re this afraid.
He tries to remind himself it’s not him. It’s not him you’re scared of, not him you think you’re fighting. But it’s hard not to when you’re begging him to stop, to let you live, to not hurt you.
“You’re awake!” Bucky tries again, growing desperate and he hears his voice crack. He holds his hands firm on the sides of your face; the solid metal of his left in contrast to the warmth of his right. “Feel me! I’m right here, okay? I’ve got you. Hear me, sweetheart. Feel me. It’s Bucky.”
You freeze, you gaze unfocused up at him though you’re not able to meet his eye. You look directly at him and still—you see straight through.
Suddenly, your features begin to contort and then, you’re sobbing and Bucky’s heart cleaves down the center. He quickly climbs off of you, curling in against your side and wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. You come to him easily, face pressed tight into the crook of his neck, your hands bunched into the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
“You’re alright,” he whispers, soothing a hand down your spine. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t... I don’t know what’s real,” you murmur against his collar and he’s certain that if he didn’t have the serum in his veins, he wouldn’t have heard it at all.
“This is real,” Bucky affirms, holding you as tight as he can manage. “You and me. Right now. This is real, okay? No one is going to hurt you. I’ve got you, honey.”
It’s only then that Bruce slowly emerges from the doorway. He’s holding another syringe in his hand, a solemn look upon his features. He exchanges a short glance with Bucky as he begins to approach.
“Do you trust me?” Bucky asks slowly. He slides the long sleeve of your t-shirt up your arm to give Bruce better leverage. You don’t say anything, but you nod against his chest. Bucky sighed. “You’ll feel a little prick on your arm, okay? It’s going to help you sleep. No dreams this time.”
You don’t respond and Bruce looks to Bucky for guidance. Bucky swallows and give him a short nod. The needle is only inches away when you squeeze Bucky’s waist.
“Promise you’ll stay,” you whisper. “Please.”
Whatever remained of Bucky’s heart shatters completely. Its shards and glass and broken pieces left within his chest and still, he finds the strength to tell you, “I’m not going anywhere.”
You don’t even flinch when Bruce pricks the needle to your vein. Your body becomes so slack that Bucky has to remind himself you’re only sleeping. He still finds himself checking for your pulse, focusing on the gentle breaths against his skin. He doesn’t sleep at all.
Bucky spends every night in your room. Even if he starts in the chair by your windowsill, he feels better knowing he’s close enough to notice the nightmares before they start. The slightest variation in your breathing and Bucky crawls into the bed beside you. His arms snake around your waist and gently tug you to lay over his chest. A hand soothes down your spine until your breaths flow evenly again and he listens for the sound of your heartbeat until morning.
You haven’t woken up screaming since.
Bucky pulls himself from his trance. He’d barely slept in the week since your sight was taken and the exhaustion is evident in the dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt look on his face. He’s just thankful you’re not able to see it. Still, his lids are heavy as he pushes himself to his feet and follows your voice to the bedroom.
He’s learned to retrain his steps so that you can hear him as he approaches. Intentional placement of his steps over the squeaking floorboards and a heaviness in his heels. It feels almost unnatural given his decades training to be invisible, but it puts you at ease. He can see the tension fade from your shoulders when you recognize his gait.
Slowly, you reach for Bucky but you extend your arm too far to the right and you miss him entirely. Your hand hovers through the air until you find his shoulder and only then do you start to relax as you touch the cold surface of the vibranium.
“Nat usually helps me but she’s out on a run,” you say as your fingers gently tap against his shoulder, light pressure in tender rhythm as if playing the keys on a piano. “Would you mind?”
Bucky nods, but quickly adds, “of course. What do you need?”
“Just something that matches. I can put it on myself, I just... I already feel out of place so I don’t want to be walking around with two different socks on.”
“Lang does that all the time, you know,” Bucky chuckles, desperate to see you smile again. It seems to take most of your energy, but your lips curve just slightly in the edges. It lasts only a moment and it fades quicker than it arrived, but it’s something.
Bucky riffles through your drawers in search of something comfortable for you to wear. Eventually, he settles on a pair of leggings and a loose fitted t-shirt you wore often enough for the color to have faded a few shades lighter in the wash. The fabric is soft against his fingertips as he pulls it from the drawer and sets it on the bed. He doesn’t know much about twenty-first century fashion, but he hopes you won’t mind. Your fingers graze over the clothes and your smile returns.
Then, you reach out for his hand and Bucky hesitates for a moment before he places his right hand in yours. A frown pouts over your lip and you extend your free hand in search of his left. He’s not sure what to make of it, how you noticeably sigh at the touch of cold metal to your skin. It’s not the first time you’ve sought out his left arm since Harkness stole your sight and Bucky simply can't wrap his head around it.
“Why do you do that?” A shiver passes through his spine as your fingers graze along the gold detailing in his palm.
“So I know it’s really you.”
You say it so casually, as if you might see his arm as something other than the embodiment of violence he’d committed under Hydra’s orders. You touch the lines of the plates and trace over what would be his lifeline marked by a river of golden embellishment; feather light grace at the tips of your fingers. It’s almost as if you’re committing the details to memory; preserving him. He realizes then that the arm he’s grown to despise has become a comfort to you – a reminder that when doubt creeps in and threatens to drag you deep into the shadows, that he’s still there with you.
"I’ll be out in a minute, okay?” you tell him, reluctantly letting go of his hand. Bucky lingers a moment longer as you feel around for the tag at the nape of the t-shirt to make sure it’s facing the right way. You smile in his direction and he tries not to let his stomach drop when you look too far to your right and miss him entirely.
“I’ll be outside the door.” Bucky’s voice is raw as it slips out—a byproduct of the shock. Then, he closes the door behind him, careful of the broken hinges he’s yet to replace.
When he looks up, he spots Wanda and Steve huddled around the kitchen table. Wanda’s vibrant red hair is tossed up in a bun, strands falling out of place, and she wears dark circles under her eyes that mirror the discoloration on Bucky’s face. She’s been tracking Harkness since she disappeared but she hasn’t had a single new lead in days. The frustration wears on Steve’s face, too, as he clenches his jaw at something she said.
“Have you heard anything?” Bucky can’t help but ask as he approaches. He feels like a child as he wrings his hands in his lap, looking between Wanda and Steve with what he knows is misguided hope. It's been too long now for the spell to have faded on its own.
“Not yet,” Wanda says slowly. “I’m doing everything I can to track her down but...”
“We need to prepare her, Buck,” Steve cuts in. A frown is etched deep into his features and it looks as though it physically pains him. “Even if we find Harkness, there’s no guaranteeing she’ll reverse the spell. If she even can.”
Bucky falters in his stance, physically taking a step back. His breath suddenly feels tight inside his chest. “What are you saying? You’re just giving up?”
“No, of course not,” Wanda implores. She stands and reaches a hand for Bucky but he flinches before she can touch him. Her lips press to a thin line as she steps away to give him space. “I just... I don’t think we should give her false hope.”
“This doesn’t have to be debilitating, Buck,” Steve tries, but Bucky is barely able to hear him through the ringing in his ears. It echoes as badly as it did in the halls amongst the purple haze, as bad as it so often carried through the foundation into his bedroom as he sprinted to chase the demons from your dreams.
“People lose their sight all the time and they learn how to reacclimate,” Steve continues, cautious with every word. “It's a difficult road, but Y/n--”
“--is an Avenger, Steve!” Bucky slams his hands on the table. The coffee mugs shatter onto the kitchen floor; shards of broken ceramic on the floor by Wanda’s feet, mocha sinking into the cracks in the tile.
“Buck--” Steve reaches out for Bucky’s arm to put him at ease, but Bucky yanks himself out of Steve’s grasp.
He feels like his entire body is on fire. He can’t stand still, can't breathe. He’s been hanging on by a thread, desperate to portray the strength he doesn’t have so you could hold onto hope, so you didn’t have to feel this paralyzing fear the way that he does.
He tries to stop himself, to stop the fears from slipping out, but they’re like fire on his tongue and he can’t swallow them back.
“How the hell is she supposed to be an Avenger if she can’t fucking see!? She’ll never be in the field again. Do you get that!? The one goddamn thing she’s worked her whole life to do—to help people—and she’ll never go on another mission again!”
Wanda lowers her head, eyes averting to the floor. A blush of red coats her cheeks and Steve slowly sinks in his chair, an agonizing look on his face. Bucky is breathing so heavy it starts to feel numb in the back of his head, in his teeth, in his fingertips. His hands tighten to fists and he nearly lashes out again when he notices Wanda’s eyes flicker over his shoulder.
Bucky’s heart drops as he turns to find you standing in the frame of the door, gripping tight to the handle. Tears well through the cloudy grey skies in your eyes and Bucky is certain the floor must have given way from under him because he’s falling through hundreds of feet of abyss. His stomach is somewhere else, his chest caved in. A tear slips over your cheekbone and Bucky’s knees nearly give out.
“I know,” you say, your voice absent of emotion though it’s laced with such heaviness, it sounds as if it might pull you under the surface to meet him at the bottom of the void. “I know the chances of finding Harkness and reversing this. I know.”
Bucky crosses the room to you— slowly, because he wants you to know he’s coming, to give you the chance to retreat into your room and slam the door in his face. But you don’t. You stand firm and your gaze lays on the ground as he approaches.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers heavily. “I shouldn’t have—”
“You’re were right, though.” You shrug and there’s a painful sort of emptiness in your expression that fractures a piece from Bucky’s heart. You brush a hand over your eyes and catch tears on your wrist; the reflective streak against florescent lights shine bright over your skin. “Without Harkness, there’s no reversing this. And we both know I’m useless in the field if I can't see the guy with a gun standing a few feet ahead of me.”
Bucky swallows back bile. “You’re not useless—”
“Even if I learned how to adjust to civilian life, I could never be in the field again. I’d be a liability,” you argue, a lump burning in the back of your throat. “And you—you would end up getting hurt because you’d devote all of your attention to making sure I don’t get myself killed.”
“We can talk to that guy in Hell’s Kitchen,” Bucky offers desperately. “He’s blind, right? I’m sure he could help figure out a way for you to—”
“He’s got powers, Bucky. Superhuman senses and I don’t know—sonar or something,” you scoff. The grey storm clouds in your eyes seem to rumble; not in anger or rage, but something darker, something worse, something like acceptance. You exhale a breath so heavy it could have held the weight of an anvil over your chest. “We’re not going to fix this, okay?”
“You don’t know that.”
Bucky’s not sure why he says it. Wanda’s warning about false hope echoes in his ears but maybe he needs it, too. He needs something to cling onto because if he confronts the fact that he may never get to watch the way the afterglow flickers within the colors of your eyes again, or catch your gaze from across the room as a smile lifts at your cheeks made only for him, or see you sprinting towards him in the middle of a battlefield and leap into his arms, he might crumble completely.
He knows it’s selfish. He knows that this isn’t his burden to bear, that this isn’t his reality to accept. But if you're not a part of the Avengers anymore, you’ll inevitably learn how to be okay without them. You’ll learn how to find normalcy again in your own way – he knows you will because you’re stronger than anyone he’s ever known.
What if you no longer find purpose living in a tower with a team you’re no longer a part of? What if you decide you don’t need him anymore? What if you leave? What if you break his heart beyond what he can repair? He won’t survive it and that, he knows most of all.
Bucky doesn’t say a word of his own fears as he slowly reaches towards you, his hand gingerly laid upon the side of your cheek. You gasp at first, startled by the sensation, but you relax as the onyx of his vibranium thumb brushes along your cheekbone. He knows then that if you could see his face, you’d realize how painfully he loves you – so whole and heavy that his entire world rests simply in the palms of your hands.
“I’m not giving up,” Wanda says softly from the edge of the room. “I promise, Y/n. I won’t stop until I find her.”
“I know,” you tell her and to anyone else, they might have assumed the smile you forced was genuine. But Bucky can see how it aches, how desperately you wished for it to be sincere. It doesn’t reach your eyes, not with the oncoming storm in its wake, and it fades the moment Wanda’s footsteps disappear from the room.
Bucky wakes when he hears you scream. He jolts out of bed, the sunlight streaming in through the cracks between your curtains, and he’s disoriented for a moment as he finds he way to his feet. He slept in your room again last night as he had for the two weeks since Harkness disappeared, and he stares blankly at the empty bed. Sheets are thrown to the side, crumpled in use, and you’re nowhere to be found.
Then, he recognizes the bitter smell of coffee filtering into the bedroom. Bucky narrows his eyes, certain that the rest of the team was out in search of Harkness. No one else should be on this floor. His heart is still pounding as he makes his way into the kitchen, cautious of the broken hinges on your door.
He finds you running your hand under the sink, grumbling under your breath, and the coffeepot sitting half empty on the counter top. Beside it sits two mugs amongst a pool of spilled coffee over the marble surface. Bucky sighs.
Without word on Harkness, you’ve been trying to find your routine again. Determined to get back to a normalcy you weren’t convinced you’d ever find, but stubborn enough to try. The couch is slightly shifted out of place, the edge of the carpet turned up. He can practically envision your path to the kitchen and clumsy attempts to avoid the furniture in your way.
“Are you alright?” Bucky calls gently, soft enough to not startle you to his presence.
You glance up in his direction and quickly turn off the faucet, nursing your left hand. It’s only then that he sees the burn mark running over your skin; red and beginning to blister. You hold your wrist delicately against your ribs and you make no attempts to hide it from him. You know better than to try.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you murmur, embarrassed. “Thought I could at least make you coffee after you spent these last two weeks taking care of me and I—I still fucked it up.”
Bucky gently takes your injured hand in his own and covers the burn with the cool palm of his left hand. You sigh at the touch, eyes fluttering closed, and for a moment Bucky can pretend like this is any other day. He could imagine that when you open your eyes again, it will be to the vibrant shades he sees in his dreams
“Looks like perfectly good coffee to me,” he says sweetly, eyeing the coffee as it drips over the edge of the counter into a puddle on the floor. “You just missed the cup is all.”
He’s surprised when he hears your muffled laugh against his t-shirt. Your lips curve to a smile and you lean your head against his shoulder, content in the security of his frame beside you. Slowly, as if to give you the chance to pull away, Bucky brings your hand to his lips and presses a feather light kiss to the burn. The feeling surprises you as you pull in a shaken inhale and you turn your head up to him.
Bucky’s gaze flickers to your lips.
“Y/n!” Natasha’s voice suddenly echoes through the hall. It startles you enough that you flinch against Bucky’s hold, pressing your face tight into the crook of his neck. Footsteps carry in from the elevator, Natasha panting as she sprints towards you. She pauses at the edge of the kitchen. “We found Harkness.”
You stiffen in Bucky’s arms, though you don’t say a word.
“You’re sure?” Bucky says instead.
Natasha nods. “She’s in interrogation now.”
“Can she reverse it?”
“Wanda’s working on it,” Nat admits, the hesitancy reading in her tone. She tries to get a better look at you, hoping to see relief on your features, but you’re too afraid for that. You’re too afraid to give yourself even an ounce of hope in the fear it might be ripped away from you again. So instead, you press your ear to Bucky’s chest and try to steady your breathing. His arm wraps tighter at your shoulders and the compression seems to alleviate some of the tension in your body.
“I’ll bring her down in a minute,” Bucky says and you squeeze your arms around his waist. Natasha gives him a short nod and he waits until the sound of the elevator dings and the doors have closed behind her to exhale.
He swallows. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Will you—” You pause, taking in a shaking breath. Your gaze fixated beyond where he could see, dark grey clouds fading near to black. “Will you promise me... if this doesn’t work... Promise you won’t leave me behind?”
Bucky’s heart lurches and suddenly, his throat is so dry it might start bleeding from the cracks.
“I’m scared this might not ever go away, Bucky, but I’m... I’m terrified that I’ll lose you because of it,” you cry, your voice muffled by the collar of his shirt and it fractures Bucky completely. Your fingers curl into the fabric as you gather fistfuls in your hands. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you, either, and I know it’s been such a burden to take care of me the way you have but—”
“No,” Bucky manages to choke out, his voice breaking in the effort. “Never, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m here with you. Always. As long as you want, okay? Forever, if you ask.”
He’s not sure how else he can say it—that he loves you. The very idea of you being anything but the brightest light at the end of tunnel was unimaginable to him. To even consider you as a burden, as a weight upon his shoulders he could not carry, was inconceivable. Every moment he had with you before Harkness – while hidden amongst stolen moments and safe within the shadows – was all that kept him going for a long time. And now—now he has you in his arms and you cling to him as if he could ease each of the worry lines on your face with the touch of his fingers.
There is no doubt, no hesitancy, in his voice when he says, “you have me, sweetheart. No matter what happens. You have me.”
Bucky doesn’t dare allow himself to consider the weight of how easily you relax into his arms as he says it. You only give him a short nod, a tight smile, and he begins to guide you to the elevator. He doesn't know what to expect, when he reaches the interrogation room, but there’s something lighter in his chest – as if a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders – because you’re holding his hand.
Natasha’s eyes flicker to your intertwined fingers as the two of you approach. She does well enough to hide the smirk that pushes at her cheeks, but Bucky can still see the vague twitch in the muscle. She folds her arms over her chest.
“Ah! And here’s the guest of honor herself!” Agatha Harkness’ voice rings through the room. She wears an unsettling smile that sits wide against her features but does little to reach her eyes. She fixates on you as you step inside the room, admiring the storm clouds blocking your line of sight. Bucky can’t register touch in his left hand the way he can in his right, but he can still feel the pressure as you squeeze it tighter, flexing your grip to remind yourself he’s there with you.
“Just do as you promised, Agatha,” Wanda warns.
“As long as our deal still stands,” Agatha taunts back. She tugs at the bindings securing her hands—and her powers—at bay and still, a flicker of purple light dances in the tips of her fingers. She winks in Bucky’s direction and he finds himself inching in front of you. It only seems to make her smile wider.
“Reverse the spell, Agatha,” Wanda orders flatly. Bucky doesn’t dare ask what she agreed to do in exchange for Harkness’ cooperation, but whatever it is, he’s grateful.
Agatha rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. Bring her to me.”
Bucky doesn’t move. He can practically feel your pulse raging from your palm as you keep your hand latched against his. Natasha bends down and slowly releases the cuffs on Harkness’ wrists, though she’s cautious to remind the witch that there were several Avengers still present in the room should she try anything foolish.
“Can’t exactly perform a miracle if the metal man is standing in my way,” Agatha groans. She kicks her legs up onto the interrogation table, lounging back into the thin metal chair as if it could recline.
Bucky feels a growl burning in his chest as he stares down the witch and a dangerous thought crosses his mind of whether ending her pathetic life would simply reverse the spell on its own. She must read the contemplation upon his face because her smile falls and she sits up straighter in her position.
“It’s okay, Bucky,” your voice says gently from behind him. Your hand slips from his hold and suddenly, he feels cold. He’s not sure what to do with the emptiness there, so he curls his fingers to a fist as you feel for the back of the chair and slowly sit opposite Harkness.
“Wow,” she preens, “I really did a number on you.”
Your expression remains unchanged. Only Bucky notices when your jaw flexes, the muscle twitching as you struggle to maintain the steel to your features. He nearly reaches out for your hand again before he stops himself.
“Do it, Agatha. Now,” Wanda presses. Red magic filters at her fingertips, traveling between the spaces in-between as if she were rolling a coin. Effortless and beautiful and terrifying all the same. Agatha swallows as she watches the magic curl to a ball at the center of Wanda’s palm.
“Alright, alright. Geesh.” Agatha leans forward against the table, her hands coming up to her eye line as a purple light begins to emerge in the middle of the room. It begins as nothing, pulling pieces of magic from the air or from the florescence or from the very matter of space itself until it winds and winds like spooling a ball of yarn until it’s the size of a small ball.
Agatha licks her lips in concentration as she lowers the ball of magic to your eye line. Then, the very edge of her mouth curves up at the corner and Bucky doesn’t have even a moment to react before Agatha’s arms extend and the light warps into a purple so dark, it’s nearly black, and the entirety of it is drawn into your eyes.
“What did you do!?” Wanda yells, slamming Harkness against the wall with the invisible strength of her power. Natasha is on her in an instant, cuffing her wrists and dampening the witch's power.
But Bucky doesn’t notice any of it happening around him. Not as you start screaming. He skids onto his knees in front of you as your hands press into your eyes.
“Y/n!” Bucky shouts, his hands gripping at your thighs. “Y/n! Answer me!”
But you can’t. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him over the sounds of your own screams. It echoes so painfully within the room that Natasha winces as she dares a glance in your direction. You start shaking then, tremors so violent that Bucky doesn’t even have a moment to think before he’s scooped you into his arms and takes off running.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. The med wing, maybe. But he can barely think. Barely breathe. He nearly slams the two of you into the stairwell doors in an effort to race you between floors. He should have known better than to trust the word of that witch. She’d blinded you to make a quick escape. She had no reason to reverse the spell and every reason to destroy the lives of the people intent on tracking her down.
He never considered that it could get worse. He never stopped for even a second to wonder.
He should have. If anyone understood the cruelty of the fates, it was Bucky Barnes. He should have protected you from it. He should have kept you safe. He should have—
He stills on the third floor, his pulse pounding so violently in his chest he’s scared to look down into your lap, scared he’s going to find his blood coating your clothes, his heart raw and exposed in your hands. Your voice echoes through the stairwell as you call his name again and slowly, he lowers you to the steps.
Your eyes are squeezed shut, almost painfully so as Bucky kneels down on the steps ahead of you. You keep your hands clenched into his shirt, your fingertips grazing over the comfort of solid metal on his left arm.
"I should get you to Banner,” Bucky tries, throwing a cautious glance to the door a few steps above. He can see the agents in lab coats passing by the small window in the door and he wonders if maybe he can grab their attention and bring someone to you.
When he turns back to you, he finds you staring at him. Lips parted, hands shaking.
It takes a moment before he realizes.
But when he does—the air gasps from his lungs.
The wash of storm clouds in your eyes has faded, cast out beyond the horizon and exposing the rush of color in its wake. You don’t blink. You don’t look away from him for even a second and your eyes start to water as you stare at him, trying to find the strength to speak. But words aren’t enough. They can't be. Not with the way you’re looking at him.
“Y/n?” Bucky gapes, unable to tear his gaze away from the crystal-clear sky in your eyes.
The smile that presses into your cheeks makes Bucky’s stomach weak. It brightens across your face, touches your eyes, and Bucky chokes back a sob before it can consume him whole. Your hands are on his face then, holding his cheeks, thumbs brushing sweetly over unshaven stubble. You look at him like he’s the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen and it renders him speechless.
“Hi,” you manage to say through the tears and the laugh and the smile so wide on your face it might even touch your ears.
Bucky laughs and it tastes so beautifully of relief. “Hi.”
“You're so beautiful,” you whisper, your fingertips pressing delicately along his jawline as if you’re memorizing him all over again. There’s no teasing in your voice as you say it, no playful smile. It’s the sincerity of it that scares him the most, that tugs the lightness from his features and made his heart pound so loudly he’s sure you can hear it.
He doesn’t mistake it for a moment when your gaze flickers to his lips. It happens quickly and the anticipation that follows feels thick in the air between you. His chest rises quicker with every breath, his hands shaking in anticipation. He doesn’t realize how close he is to you until your breath touches his cheeks. And then – you pull him to your lips.
There’s a new vulnerability in closing his eyes but as your lips meet and he’s consumed entirely in the feel of your mouth against his, the fear slips away. Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him closer and he crawls up the stairs to hover over you. He feels you smile against him, your tongue flicking over his upper lip, and he swears he’ll never know what it is to be afraid again.
When you finally pull away, it’s only when your breathless and Bucky’s cheeks are pink, his lips swollen.
You laugh, brushing your hand down the side of his face. Your eyes trace over his features, taking your time, before you meet his eye again. “You said if I asked for forever...”
There is no hesitancy when Bucky replies. He pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your cheekbones, your nose, feather light over your eyes.
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
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Left Gasping For Air
summary┃doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.
pairing┃bucky barnes x f!reader
word count┃2,737 words
warnings┃sex pollen, dub-con/non-con elements, mention of anxiety, injuries, masturbation, lots of raw sex [unprotected sex], desperation for each other, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, cream-pie, crying, side kink, choking kink, praise kink, slight mocking & degradation, pet-name [baby & honey], authority kink, oral, alludes to shower sex, happy ending — 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI
notes┃you are responsible for your own media consumption — DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANYTHING MENTIONED ABOVE.
No, no, no, no, no. Oh God, no.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Dear God you prayed that it wasn’t what you thought it was, but when you met Bucky’s eyes, you got all the answers you needed.
You’d been set-up, fallen for their trap. Soon to be incapacitated and reduced to nothing but carnal instincts.
Bucky grabbed your upper arm with his metal one and dragged you. The reason? Because you were completely over your fucking head.
It was like having Bambi team up with the world’s best trained assassin — you’re stumbling over your feet and oh God do you miss sitting at your desk.
You don’t go out into the field, you’re a goddamn analyst specialist. You work in the background, not the foreground like Bucky does.
“We need to get back,” he rushed, pulling you through the seemingly abandoned building and fuck, you were in trouble.
You’d heard the stories, done your own research on the subject, but you never thought you’d end up in one of those tales.
Bucky was rushing, rightfully so.
Not only had you been breathing in the odourless, but noxious gasses, you’d been compromised and very clearly seen.
Which meant that the entire mission was busted, but at the moment, you didn’t really care about the mission.
Not as much as you did about what was about to take over you in just a matter of hours.
This was bad.
Terrible, horrible, the worst thing that could happen on a fucking mission.
“You okay?” Bucky whispered, looking over his shoulder as he dropped your arm and all you could do was nod because honestly? No, you weren’t okay.
You were just in a state of shock, not really believing this was happening.
Bucky swallowed thickly, black eye bloomed and blossomed, but already healing thanks to the engineering of the super-soldier serum he had running through him.
You wondered how it would affect him.
Would he handle it worse? Better? The same as you?
Only time will tell…ironic.
“Stay low and jus’ follow me, okay?” He then said, snapping you out of your thoughts, concerned eyes glazing over your own as you chewed on your bottom lip and nodded, “okay.”
When you finally stepped through the threshold of your shared motel room, you took a deep breath and collapsed onto the bed with shaky hands.
The bed creaked and then dipped with Bucky’s weight. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, but then again, you always could.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” He humourlessly chuckled, running his hands down his face as you managed to crack a dry laugh, “fucked is an understatement.”
You stood up quickly then, drawing all of the curtains shut and double checking the locks as Bucky looked at you.
“We’re gonna be fine, just fine,” you mumbled, more so to yourself, as you paced the room trying to wrack your brain at the options you had.
Bucky remained on the bed, there were two, yet you still found yourself trapped in a fanfiction trope.
“What are uh…what are the,” Bucky paused to find the right words, “what are our…uhm, options?”
There really was no better way to phrase it.
Have sex or die, is what you wanted to say, but you found another way to phrase it.
“Well,” you rejoined him on the bed, cross legged, “we can just try to wait it out, hope for the best.”
Bucky shook his head at your words, “is that…well is that safe?”
You inhaled sharply, “not even slightly.”
The words seemed to hit Bucky hard as he winced, “what else?”
“We can uh, well we always have the option of servicing ourselves.” Masturbate. You could masturbate the night away in hopes that it would quell the ache and burn of the Molotov love cocktail.
“How safe is that?” He asked, kicking his combat boots off to crawl higher up the bed.
You licked your lips, “it’s not guaranteed to work.”
There was one more option — the option with a 100% success rate according to the peer reviewed studies you’d read in your Human Biology & Instincts course during your PhD years.
“The last thing is to, uh…well I think you know.”
“To fuck ‘til we’re passing out?”
Your eyes went wide at his words, but fuck if he wasn’t right.
“Yeah, generally that’s the idea.”
Bucky stretched himself out on the bed, his tummy peeking through and it only reminded you of the dire situation.
The room quickly lost it’s light, with the setting sun and the drawn curtains, you were plunged into an almost darkness as crickets soon chirped away outside of your door.
“We should try to get some sleep,” you finally said, hopping off the bed and crawling into yours just a couple of feet away.
Bucky didn’t verbally respond, humming instead as he slipped under the covers nearly fully clothed and you decided to do the same.
A subconscious precaution because maybe if you were fully clothed, the serum wouldn’t work.
Yeah, that was a fucking stupid thought. Of course it would still work, but you could still hope.
The room was silent as you rolled over, watching Bucky do the same.
“”M here for you, jus’ know that, yeah?” He said, a flurry of emotions causing your stomach to flutter as you swallowed dryly and nodded your head.
“I am too, Bucky.”
“Goodnight.” Were the last words you heard from him before drifting off into a comatose state, unsure of what the fuck was about to happen.
It was unbearably fucking hot.
You had ripped the covers off of your body, but that wasn’t enough.
No, you were sweltering, boiling, feeling like a cookie on a baking tray as you began ripping clothes off your body hoping to find some sort of relief.
That’s when you heard Bucky’s soft moan and your pussy quivered as a new wave of arousal washed over you.
“Bucky?” You croaked, “Bucky, it’s s’hot.” You whined, whimpering as you began tearing off the rest of your clothes.
Bucky panted, “I know, I know — fuck,” he groaned as he turned his head to look at your body and his dick twitched.
Painfully even, as he stripped his clothes off and not even his cold vibranium arm could be of any help to himself anymore.
You both lay in your respective beds, panting and writhing both from the pain and the unbelievable level of horniness you were both feeling.
And Bucky looked so so, so damn good.
Thinking about him and seeing him almost made you feel okay. Imagining his hands and lips all over your body; nipping, sucking, sinking his teeth into your skin.
It was almost too much.
And the thought of him was tantalizing.
“Baby?” You whimpered in response to Bucky’s voice, “touch yourself, we gotta — fuck,” he chokes on his own breath.
“We gotta, remember? Touch your pretty pussy and make yourself feel good.” He’s trying, he’s trying really goddamn hard to restrain himself as he digs his fingers into the cheap mattress, penetrating it.
Hearing him say to touch yourself sends you into a sex driven catatonic state as you arch your back and delve between your thighs.
There’s a moments relief, washing over you like a cool wave on a hot summer day and then all over again you feel hot, aching, and desperate.
“S’not enough, Buck,” you croak, “need you.”
Bed springs creak and groan under Bucky’s dense weight before he’s stumbling into your bed and you’re crying.
There’s tears running down your cheeks, wet sobs escaping your parted lips and then he touches you.
Cold hand running up from your navel to in between your breasts — a line of goosebumps following the metal before it’s wrapped around your neck.
Desperation laced in his touch, gripping at your curves because he needs to make sure that you’re real, that he hasn’t slipped into a coma and that this isn’t a dream.
“I won’t be able to stop myself,” he pants, your eyes snapping open to find him hovering above you. His dog tags hang in front of your lips, warm metal brushing by them as they swing.
“Once I touch you I, fuck,” he stops himself to catch his breath, “I know I won’t be able to stop because I can smell you and it’s killin’ me that I haven’t tasted you yet.”
You choke out a gasp, “all night long you’ve been moanin’ my name in your sleep.”
His nose brushes your jaw, whirring metal joints humming in the otherwise silent room.
“Control yourself,” he suddenly growls.
It shuts you up, but does little to help the twisting ache that’s churning your insides.
You want more, you need more.
“It hurts,” you mewl, hiccuping again before the grip around your neck tightens and Bucky’s lowering his lips to your ear.
His stubble scratches you, amplified ten-fold by the pollen, as you feel his hot breath against your searing skin.
“Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you need.” You gasp at his words, watching him pull back — pupils blown so wide you can no longer make out any of the blue that are his irises.
He’s been consumed, just like you, and that’s when you realize that what Bucky’s feeling is probably a thousand times worse.
The good is better, but the bad is excruciating because of his super-soldier serum that’s already running through his veins.
He needs this just as bad, if not more, as you.
His lips are on yours, hungrily and messily, hands cupping your face and the kiss leaves you floating.
His touch was intoxicating, giving you exactly what you need.
Hot skin against hot skin, the room filling with sticky, thick air and in the moment nothing matters except for how heavy Bucky’s cock feels against your abdomen.
“Shit,” he hisses, “’m done waitin’.”
You don’t get a chance to say anything before his head is between your thighs, holding them open and he’s lapping at everything you have to offer.
The moan that rips through your chest leaves his dick twitching as he ruts his hips against the mattress. He’s dry humping it to get any sort of relief.
“Bucky,” his name leaves your hips as you go to grip his hair, tugging at the roots as he hums against your cunt.
Your first orgasm washes over you, Bucky’s face clenched between your legs before he’s digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass and thighs.
“Fuck, fuck,” his voice is low and raspy, “oh baby, wanna see you do that all over my dick.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to speak before he’s fisting his cock, lined up with your entrance, and pushing in.
It’s indescribable, the feeling of him sinking into you, whispering out a fuck as he sinks deeper and deeper into you. It grips you just like you’re gripping him with warm, inviting walls.
“This,” he thrusts, slamming the headboard against the ugly wallpapered wall, “is what I’ve been fuckin’ cravin’.”
Bucky meant what he said, that he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back because he kept fucking you through the pounding on the other side of the wall — your poor neighbours begging for your silence.
“Shut the fuck up!” Someone yells through the walls as Bucky bangs his fist against the wall, ball’s deep inside of you and the drywall cracks and speckles your naked and sweaty chest.
“Go fuck yourselves!” Bucky snarls back, baring his teeth as he speeds up his thrusts and suddenly the neighbours are quiet as can be.
For some unknown reason, that’s what throws you, no, catapults you over the edge as your walls flutter around his cock and you’re coming for the second time that night.
It only encourages Bucky.
“You better be keepin’ count, ‘cause I plan on setting a fuckin’ record.” He snaps, bed in shambles as it creaks and squeaks before his own thrusts are growing sloppy.
But you only want more.
You haven’t had nearly enough, the pollen at it’s peak and all you want is to fuck.
“Gonna fill you up,” he groans, “God, you’re gonna be so fuckin’ stuffed.” His breathing is laboured, chasing his release before it hits him and a thunderous roar leaves him as he pumps you full of his seed.
It settles him, but not for long.
It settles you for even less before you’re whining, trying to rock your hips because he’s still hard as shit inside of you.
Super-soldier meets sex pollen, his stamina is God-like.
“C’mon Buck,” you plead. “Need more.”
He chuckles deeply, “yeah?” He’s mocking, smirk on his face as you wait for his next move.
“Then come and get it, baby,” he has you flipped over, lying on his back as you’re suddenly straddling him and the new position has you falling into his chest because he’s impossibly deep.
“Well?” He taunts, “suddenly you can’t fuckin’ move? Is it ‘cause ‘m jus’ so fuckin’ deep ‘side of you?”
He uses a metal hand to press against your lower tummy, “I can see how much you need this,” he purrs, thumb meeting your clit as shocks of electricity run through every nerve ending in your body.
“Baby you’re soakin’ my stomach, look’atcha,” he hums, eyes meeting the mess you’ve made.
You meet his eyes and you can see how wet his chin is from being between your thighs and it sparks something inside of you.
You rock your hips, steadying yourself over his chest as he groans, “oh that’s a good girl, feel so fuckin’ good like this. Jus’ needed a little encouragement.”
He’s lost himself in you, unable to form a coherent sentence as you lose yourself in the feeling of riding him like your life depends on it, because it does.
“You feel so good, Bucky,” you mumble, voice small, “s’all yours, baby. ‘M all yours,” he groans, digging both flesh and metal fingers into your skin as he meets your thrusts.
You lose count after your fifth orgasm, brain reduced to nothing but mush as you and Bucky fuck the night away only taking occasional breaks to drink as much water as you’re sweating out.
The night dwindles away, early morning sun peeking through the moth-eaten curtains, replacing the moonlight that was streaming in.
But Bucky is still deep inside of you, slow and gentle thrusts meeting your tired hips as he’s kissing and suckling away at your collarbones in hopes of leaving his mark.
He doesn’t care who sees. He’s fuelled by a drug that makes you uncontrollably horny.
“One more for me, honey, one more,” he purrs sweetly, fingers locking with yours as you let out a drawn out and high-pitched mewl before arching your back so your chest’s meet.
You give him one more, Bucky wrapping his arms around your tired and sore body before squeezing you in a near bone crushing hug as he spills the last of what he has to offer.
Neither of you have the energy to do anything more than fade off into a much needed, dreamless sleep messily wrapped in each other’s limbs.
When you awake, you groan at the muscle aches.
Maybe it’s a masochisitc trait, but you feel...good.
Better than good, you feel great.
Bucky isn’t where you last saw him; passed out in bed beside you, but instead you assume he’s the one in the running shower and God did you need one too.
Without thinking you’re climbing out of bed and into the bathroom where Bucky pokes his head out before pulling aside the cheap curtain and welcoming you into the warmth.
The water hits your skin, soft moan flooding Bucky’s ears as you stretch your neck side to side.
A kiss to your shoulder. A second kiss to your other shoulder and stubble that makes you shiver running against your neck.
There’s something different about this ache between your legs because it’s not painful or unbearable. Instead, it’s welcomed as Bucky’s fingers slide down your wet chest.
Or maybe the pollen hasn’t fully worn off yet, but you just don’t give a fuck as Bucky presses you against the cold tile wall of the shower with his thumb between your parted lips.
Sex pollen or not, Bucky Barnes would be your fucking weakness no matter what.
3K notes · View notes
#1 for imagine with dads!best friend 😉
So y/n has a crush on her dads best friend, because he’s this big beefy man with charm that makes all the ladies swoon. He’s all she can think about when she is laying there awake at night.
It’s her graduation (or some event) and her dad throws a celebration. Bucky is invited and she’s excited to see him until he shows up at their house with a random woman hanging off his arm. She’s jealous and realizes he’s never going to like her the way she would wants and sneaks off to her room to be alone, until Bucky finds her and they are alone
The Graduation Party
@littlecanadianlani was kind enough to send me over some (immaculate) Dad’s Best Friend! Bucky ideas and I’m so obsessed I think I’ll make them a series of one-shots so I can keep up with my requests at the same time!! Each piece will be a standalone fic rather than a chapter but I’m super excited about this!! 🥰 #2 is also out now! Read it here
I went for a graduation party since I didn’t really get one yet 😅
Pairing: Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4.3K
Summary: Your parents throw you a graduation party but things take a turn when Bucky turns up with a new girlfriend
Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, fingering, huge age gap (Bucky is maybe around 40, reader is 21), lil angst perhaps? Fluff, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (behave yourselves pls), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, pet names, coercion (but in the sense that Bucky knows he shouldn’t want his best friend’s daughter. All parties are enthusiastically participating), humping, riding, dumbification
Minors, do not interact
You weren’t sure there was a man more intimidatingly handsome than your dad’s college best friend and he knew it. If tall, dark and handsome was a person, it would be Bucky Barnes with his piercing blue eyes and soft, flushed, pink lips.
He was the definition of a bachelor. Unmarried, no kids, seemingly endless disposable income and from what your dad had told you, a new woman every week. And why shouldn’t he? Married life just didn’t seem to be his thing, settling down might never happen for Bucky and there was nothing wrong with that.
Plus the fact he hadn’t settled had kept your little crush alive. You couldn’t help wondering what it was like to be with a man like Bucky. A man with experience, a man who knew how to actually make love to a woman, rather just offer five minutes of painfully inadequate sex before rolling over and falling asleep, leaving you frustrated and unsatisfied.
It was terrible to admit but countless nights had passed with your hands delving between your thighs, a shiver running over your flushed skin as you imagined how his gruff little groans would sound when you offered yourself up to him. How it would feel to have him slipping into your tight heat until you weren’t sure where his body ended and yours began.
But your little fantasy was all crumbling down around you now, at your own graduation party no less. Bucky had just arrived with a girlfriend. You couldn’t have seen it coming, a tall, beautiful woman hanging off his arm as his dad introduced himself to her.
You couldn’t believe how jealous you were. You were only carrying a school girl crush after all, plain and simple infatuation, it was nothing serious but God, your chest had tightened with discontent seeing how he smiled at her, introducing her to the other guests at your garden party until those charming eyes locked with yours.
“Oh sugar, congratulations on the results! You did amazing!” He beamed proudly, crossing the whole garden to wrap you up in the tightest hug. His body felt huge and comforting, smelling fresh and woodsy and God it would be so easy to get lost in it, lost in him.
“Thank you Bucky!” You couldn’t help the tinge of heat burning in your cheeks as you pulled away.
“Oh angel, you make me feel so old. Can’t believe you’ve graduated college now! You’re so beautiful too, you’re all grown up! But hey, this is Sarah, she’s been dying to meet you!” Bucky grinned, his words making you tingle with longing right up until Sarah was thrust in front of you, your arms wrapping around her before you had a chance to stop yourself.
“It’s so nice to meet you honey, Bucky’s been gushing about how proud he is of you!” Sarah was so lovely. That was even worse. Never mind the fact she was pretty, she was painfully sweet.
“It’s nice to meet you too! Bucky hadn’t mentioned you before. How long have you two been… um…” you questioned softly, not really knowing their situation
“Dating? A few weeks now. No needa be shy honey, I don’t mind answerin’ your questions.” Bucky’s confident smirk made your stomach churn. The whole time you’d known Bucky, he’d never been this open about being in a relationship. In fact, Sarah was the first actual girlfriend you knew of. You could feel your smile faltering, your little crush being dashed before your eyes.
“Oh shit, we should go say hi to your mom, talk to you later okay?” Bucky grinned, gently lifting Sarah’s hand in his own once more and heading off to find your mother.
You needed to get away. You needed to get out of the crowd before the angry, frustrated tears that were prickling your eyes spilled over. It was stupid, childish and you knew that but it didn’t make it any easier, knowing you’d never compare to this beautiful woman in Bucky’s eyes. No one stopped you as you made your way to your room, the wooden door slamming behind you while you flopped onto the bed, face buried in the pillow.
You had no idea how long had passed before you heard the door creak open again.
“Baby, you in here?” The familiar voice sent longing straight through you, the sickly feeling nestling in your chest. At the sound of Bucky, you pulled your head up out of the pillow, thankful you had managed not to cry.
Bucky looked so damn concerned.
“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He questioned softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, face flooded with worry.
“Nothin’ Bucky, just didn’t feel great. Where’s Sarah?” You asked, running a hand through your hair, the hem of your little sundress ghosting the top of your knees.
“Oh she went home.” Bucky laughed, the low chuckle erupting from his throat.
“What’s so funny?” You quizzed gently, watching his expression as he turned to look at you.
“Say nothin’ okay? Your dad and I made a bet a few years ago. Bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn’t have a girlfriend by the time you were graduating. Sarah’s my neighbour, she volunteered to play along when I was tellin’ her bout you last week.” Bucky’s admission made your heart swell for so many reasons. He wasn’t settling down. Sarah wasn’t his, he wasn’t taken and fuck, he told his neighbour about you?
“Oh…. So you’re not… Dating?” Damn your curiosity, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you had considered how they would sound.
“Not dating anyone, sugar. Why? Ya getting jealous of Sarah?” He teased, working out that he was spot on when you couldn’t meet his gaze. You were jealous of Sarah. You did want to be her. You could feel how your cheeks were burning ferociously, the room suddenly far too hot despite the evening breeze drifting in the open window.
“Oh angel, don’t tell me a delicate, innocent little thing like you wants someone like me.” His words made you impossibly hotter, your skin only getting hotter under his intense gaze.
“If I didn’t know better honey, I’d think you were jealous of Sarah. You wanna be my girl, huh? I’d only ruin you princess. Don’t wanna do that, wouldn’t be right.” Bucky could hardly contain himself. Your blush gave you away entirely. You did want him. You wanted to be ruined, pinned to the bed and fucked until you couldn’t cum anymore but he needed you to admit it. Needed to hear it out loud before he could give in.
“Tell me you want it angel. Tell me you wanna be treated right. Tell me how bad that little pussy needs a real man to take care of it.” Fuck, how had his voice dropped an entire octave? It was coming out as more of a low rumble, sexy and deep and delicious. The heat on your skin danced it’s way to your core, nestling in your tummy in a way that made your insides squirm.
“Fuck Bucky, I need it. Need you to t-treat me right.” You couldn’t even consider that he might be messing with you, so highly strung from need that it couldn’t even be a possibility. No, you needed this too badly now. Your fingers just wouldn’t compare to what you knew Bucky could offer.
“Fuck this is so wrong.” He hissed, hands fisting your bedsheets to hold himself back.
“Oh Buck, just once?” You suggested quietly, setting a hand on his clothed thigh. His eyes scrunched tightly shut at the contact, willing himself not to look. Not to feel you touching him. Your hand looked so tiny on his leg and you just wished he would open his eyes to see it.
“Careful angel, you don’t wanna do this.” He couldn’t bear to look at you. He couldn’t let himself. He knew that when the dam inside him broke, there would be no going back.
“Oh but I do Bucky. Wanted to do this for years.” His resolve was weakening, huge frame almost trembling at the thought of being buried so deep in your tight little body.
“Baby, it’s so wrong.” He was losing it as your fingertips trailed higher up his thigh. He could tell you had shifted closer without having to look at you, your breath tickling his neck from how close you were. He could smell your shampoo and your perfume but most of all, he could feel your confidence that was now seeping out of every pore, clearly emboldened by seeing the effect you were having on him and fuck, did he find it sexy.
“You know what’s ‘wrong’ Buck? How long it’s been since a man fucked me right. Bet you could change that though, couldn’t you? Bet you could make me feel so good. Two of my little fingers just don’t fill me the way I know you could. Such a tight squeeze, you have no idea. So warm and wet Buck, bet even you would struggle to last.” Where in the hell was all this confidence coming from? Half of you didn’t even care and after hearing the growl that came from Bucky, you knew he was loving it as much as you were.
“Oh fuck honey, you can’t say shit like that. Can’t fuckin’ handle it. Makes me wonder how filthy that little mouth can get.” His breathing was heavy and irregular, leaning into your lips on his neck, eyes still squeezed firmly shut.
“You wanna find out Buck? Wanna find out how good my mouth can make you feel?” Fuck he had lost it. The band inside him snapped, grabbing you by your thighs to pull you messily onto his lap, lips on yours in an instant. There was no finesse or practice to it, just two people, consumed by need, trying to relieve some tension but finding that making out had the exact opposite effect. You were both only becoming needier. Huge hands wandered over your body, the kiss becoming fiercer and more intense, fingers gripping hungrily at any exposed skin either of you could reach.
“Jesus, oh Bucky.” The little cry had slipped from your lips, muffled by Bucky’s own lips on yours.
“Oh god angel, we shouldn’t be doin’ this.” Bucky hissed quietly, removing his shirt nonetheless. He was so keen he could hardly keep up with himself but his head still told him he shouldn’t want this as much as he did.
“Do you wanna stop? Too old to keep up with me?” You teased him with a flirtatious roll of your hips over his crotch and you could’ve swore you heard an actual growl leave his throat.
“Was thinkin’ for your sake angel. Don’t think you’ll handle what I’m gonna make you feel. You won’t want anyone but me to touch you ever again. You ready for that honey? For your own fingers to not be able to give you the same relief I can?” God it all sounded so appealing falling from his mouth, his tone laced with nothing but sex.
The mewl that left your body was borderline embarrassing, Bucky gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. He hadn’t expected that one action to leave you bare in front of him. He could feel his mouth hanging open, drinking in the sight of you in his lap. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the endless expanse of soft skin, begging to be kissed and held and loved before you pressed your lips hungrily to his, ridding him of his jeans as quickly as possible.
“You’re fuckin’. Beautiful.” Bucky could only gasp the words out between kisses, both his hands charting a path up your naked body after you slotted comfortably onto his lap again. The skin on skin felt incredible, not to mention his cock lying between his legs, heavy and thick and begging for attention.
“Wanna be selfish for a second Buck.” You whispered, pushing him back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help yourself, reaching between your bodies, pressing his thick cock flush with his tummy before spreading your slick folds, setting yourself down on his bare dick. A strangled cry left the large man as you rocked yourself back and forth, spreading your wetness over him. Your clit dragged over his sensitive head, pulling a groan from both of you. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements and fuck, you looked like a goddess above him, breathy sighs slipping from you, using his body for your own pleasure.
There was something about it, seeing you so bold and confident, taking what you needed from him that made him even harder.
“Oh God Bucky.” You whined, pressing yourself down harder ever so slightly.
“That’s it angel, keep goin’. Fuck you’re just gettin’ wetter. You look so pretty and dumb like this, ruttin’ on my cock. That smart little brain just turned to mush now you’ve got a nice big cock to play with? All that education but your pretty little head just stops workin’ when you needa cum, is that it?” You didn’t expect Bucky to be so vulgar in bed, especially not with you but you were loving it.
“Fuck you feel so good.” You gasped, taking in his lazy smirk as you worked yourself on him.
“Think you could cum like this honey? Or do you wanna come sit on my face for me?” His words pulled a gasp from you because yes, you really did want to sit on his face. How could you refuse an offer like that?
So you shuffled up the bed, settling on Bucky’s face.
“Put your weight on me honey, I won’t break.” Bucky laughed, noticing how you couldn’t possibly be comfortable just hovering above his face. Pressing down a little more, he chuckled at how you were still reluctant to put your whole weight on him.
“Like this angel.” He smiled before gripping your thighs to press you the whole way down on him, beginning to lap at your pussy with long, broad strokes of his tongue straight away.
Fuck his tongue worked miracles, slipping between your folds while his nose nuzzled your clit. You’d never been eaten so intensely before, whimpers escaping you while Bucky sucked and licked and bit at the most sensitive part of your body.
When his lips connected with your clit, you almost wanted to squirm away from the insane amount of stimulation. His lips wrapped around the swollen bud, tongue flicking over it while he moaned sinfully, holding you against his mouth with one arm wrapped around each of your thighs. There was no escaping his mouth, hot and wet and trained only on driving you into blinding pleasure. Your hands fisted in his hair, helping you to ride his face while Bucky devoured you.
The knot in your tummy was tightening, fuelled by Bucky’s moans at how good you tasted.
You were so close, curses and pants of Bucky’s name spilling from you like a prayer and when Bucky’s eyes opened, looking up at you, a content hum left his throat.
That hum shattered you, the vibration on your clit driving you over the edge and if Bucky thought you looked like a goddess before, you certainly did now. He completely admired you, taking in how your back arched, how your head flung back, hips grinding against his face while one hand left his hair to tease your own nipples and God, that cry of his name made his cock throb painfully.
“Oh oh, Bucky please.” You whimpered, struggling in his grip when your body told you he had given you too much.
“You sound so sexy when you beg, you know that?” Bucky smirked, letting you go so you could pull yourself from his face, tumbling on the bed.
“Not just as sexy as you sound when you cum, but close.” His dusting of stubble was shiny with your slick and you struggled to think of a more attractive sight than his beautiful man that had effortlessly dragged an orgasm from you, lazily stroking his own cock to the sight of you naked in front of him.
“I can do both for you if you want. I’ll gladly beg if you make me cum like that again.” One orgasm like that couldn’t satisfy you, not now that you’d had a taste of real pleasure. Besides, you hadn’t even had a chance to feel his cock inside you yet.
“Shit angel, I’d love that, havin’ such a sweet little girl on her knees beggin’ for me. Fuck, you might be the death of me, you know that?” Bucky fisted his cock a little faster at the thought up until you shuffled off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His eyes went wide as you looked up at him expectantly, perching himself on the edge of the bed to watch you.
“Is this what you want? Want this big cock angel?” He cooed softly, not taking his eyes off you. You couldn’t tear your attention away from his swollen tip, head slick with precum, begging to be lapped up.
“Please Bucky, please lemme take care of you.” You whispered, offering him huge wide eyes and plump lips, longing to be parted by his dick.
“You can do better than that honey. If you want this, you gotta earn it. Ask a bit nicer.” He had every right to be so cocky after eating you like that so you indulged him a little.
“Please Bucky, can’t think of anything else. Needa feel you.” You whined. “Just lemme taste you Bucky, please, thought about this for so long. Thought about gagging on your cock like a good little girl, thought about you fucking my face.”
“And did you touch yourself while you thought of me?” Bucky asked, leaning back on the arm that wasn’t stroking his cock, giving you a chance to take in his tight abs.
The shame almost make you feel light headed, admitting to your deepest secret.
“Good girl. This pussy belongs to me now, okay? You feel like touching yourself, you text me.” Want and need surged inside you at Bucky’s promise of this little arrangement continuing but you almost lost it when he leaned forward, pressing a hand to the back of your head, guiding you over and onto his cock. Your lips parted and wrapped around him of their own accord, letting him slip into your mouth. The slightly salty taste of his precum made your pussy throb, your tongue running over his slit, collecting every last drop.
“Oh Jesus.” Bucky managed to hiss, one of your hands wrapping around the base while you forced your head down further.
“Where did you learn this shit angel? Fuckin’ filthy, you know that? Thought you wanted to be a good girl but this mouth says otherwise. All mine now though, aren’t ya? This mouth only sucks my cock from now on.” You hummed in approval, dragging another hiss from Bucky, thrusting himself deeper into your throat.
You pressed your head down until he hit the back of your throat and God, the strangled cry that left him was pornographic, low and wanton and pained, like he was holding himself back, trying so hard not to fuck your face recklessly.
“Feel so good baby.” He whimpered, pressing you down until you gagged around him. The noise, coupled with the sudden tightening made him almost feral, a loud grunt from him inspiring you to work your hand faster on his base.
“Oh fuck, I can’t take much more angel, ‘m so close.” He whimpered, thighs trembling, ready to paint the back of your throat at any second. You sped up your movements, bobbing your head in time with your hand, tight and sloppy and noisy before Bucky pulled you off him, squeezing his hand tight around his own base.
“Can’t cum yet baby, fuck, needa feel that pussy first. Know you needa be taken care of.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with that. When he was sure he had held off his orgasm, he let go of his cock, arranging you on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, stepping up behind you. His dick pressed to your entrance, gathering slick until he slowly began to press himself into you, inch by inch.
“God, you’re big.” You whimpered, fingers gripping the sheets, arching your back to allow him to push in with less resistance.
“Fuck, feels good. God, can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside you. Can’t believe a sweet little thing like you is so cock obsessed. Gotta say, I’m lovin’ this side of you honey. Even lettin’ me fuck you raw? This little pussy jus’ wants to be filled. S’okay, I’ll fill you up nicely.” He had sank the whole way into you, allowing you a few seconds to adjust to the stretch before you took charge and began to move, inching forward, then back onto his cock, almost hoping he wouldn’t notice how needy you were.
“You that horny? Can’t even wait for me to fuck you so you gotta do it yourself?” His tone was condescending, almost dripping with pride that he had reduced you to such a mess so quickly.
“Bucky, so fuckin’ horny, please. Please give it to me. Just fuck me.” You couldn’t have possibly cared that you sounded like a whiney mess. It didn’t matter that you sounded obsessed, all that mattered was feeling Bucky finally start to move.
“Oh kitten, you’ve gone all cock drunk on me? Silly baby can’t think of anythin’ but cummin’ round me. Tha’s okay, guess I can forgive you this time. You were so worked up earlier after all, seein’ me with someone else. All yours now honey. Gotta make this pretty pussy feel special.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he gripped your hips and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you again, beginning to set a decent pace.
You hadn’t expected his cock to pound your g-spot right away but you guessed it helped to be with a man who knew what he was looking for, unlike anyone you’d been with before.
“R-right there Bucky, oh fuck, I can’t.” You whined, keening against the bed so he could press painfully deep inside you with each thrust.
“You can’t what honey? Can’t handle it? Can’t get enough? Can’t hold back?” His suggestions all came in that confident tone because he knew you couldn’t answer. He was fucking you senseless, each thrust driving every thought from your head.
“Can’t hold back, fuck.” You whimpered, knowing your orgasm would be seconds away. But on the next thrust, everything stopped. Bucky didn’t push back in, sinking to his knees instead with a groan, level with your pussy. Two fingers slipped effortlessly inside you, curling in a way that you could hardly handle while his lips sucked your clit. You were done for, pussy clenching around his digits while the dragged you through your high, tongue lapping at your clit for all he was worth. You were gushing on his face, you knew it and you didn’t care, mumbling little ‘thank yous’ and praises as you rode out your high. You could hear the slick noises of Bucky fisting his cock in his other hand, tight and relentless, still wet from your pussy.
“Good girl honey, bet that felt good.” He whispered when your high had ebbed away, pressing his cock back inside you, fucking you fiercely once more. The wet sounds of his thrusts into you were horrendously loud but then again, so were his grunts as he chased his own release. You were on cloud nine, feeling fucked out and euphoric but delighted that Bucky still wanted to finish inside you.
“Cum for me Bucky, please please fill me up. Wanna be your good little fuck bunny. Wanna feel your cum leakin’ out of me.” You knew he would love it if you used a little pleading tone but you didn’t realise just how effective it would be. A few more hard thrusts had Bucky’s hips stuttering, cum spilling inside you. The groan that left Bucky was mesmerising, clinging to your body while he spilled his seed inside you.
“Jesus I don’t remember the last time I came that hard.” Bucky murmured in more of a relaxed chuckle, kissing down your spine before pulling out of you slowly, grabbing a washcloth from your dresser so you could clean yourself up.
“I’ve never cum that hard before.” You giggled gleefully, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, still faintly tasting yourself on them.
“We should get back to the party but we should do this again sometime. I meant what I said honey, you’re mine now.” It was such a change seeing Bucky so sheepish but it was quite pleasant at the same time. You didn’t even know this side of him existed up until now.
“And you’re… Mine?” You questioned softly after pulling your dress on again, straightening it out as much as possible.
“All yours angel. Maybe we shouldn’t be too open ‘bout it just yet though.” He laughed, admiring the little flush of your cheeks and the twinkle in your eye.
@babebr @sebsbrokentoe @justatirednightowl @harrysthiccthighss @stucky-my-ship @allydrabbles @white-wolves-and-grey-skies @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @littlecanadianlani @badgirlwolfy
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If I see ANYONE trying to ship MCU Natasha and Yelena when Black Widow comes out i’m going to commit arson.
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You need a fake boyfriend to chase off an ex or some other creep. There’s two men in the crowd you’d consider asking to pretend to know you and help chase this other guy away. Do you pick mafia Bucky or lumberjack Bucky? Is there another guy in the room that I’m not seeing that you would want over these two?
Pairing: Beefy Lumberjack Bucky x Reader
Warnings: implied past abusive relationship (omc x reader) protective Bucky
Word count: 965
A/N: Written on my phone. Don't copy,rewrite, translate, or repost my work.
You've been dodging your creepy ex all night but he's getting more persistent and frankly, you're frightened of what he's going to do.
It took everything you had to break up with him. The last time you left him, he found you and dragged you back. No one had helped you then. You can't let that happen again. Clutching your fist to your mouth, you hold back a sob. You can't let that happen again, you can't.
Looking around the room, you see a tall man with chestnut hair and clear blue eyes. A bright, genuine smile cutting across his bearded face as he speaks.
You go to him because he radiates a gentle energy and he towers over everyone in the room. You don't why but he seems safe. You say a silent prayer that for once in your life your instincts about a man are right.
Looking over your shoulder, you see your ex stalking towards you, his bleary eyes staring you down. He’s drunk and when he drinks, he gets even meaner.
Fear knots in your belly, an all too familiar sensation that sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.
You speed up to a near sprint, stumbling into the lumberjack. He looks down at you, his smile fading into a worried frown at the sight of your tear-filled eyes.
“Please help me,” you rush out, glancing back again. “Please-“
Bucky follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing at your ex. “He hurt you?”
You swallow thickly, mouth suddenly dry. You drop your head, you shouldn’t be ashamed, but you are. And it makes you hate your ex even more.
Bucky stares at your downcast face, his eyes flitting to the drunk idiot stumbling in your direction. And he’s angry, it’s raw and instantaneous. He thinks of his family and how he would kill anyone who hurt them.
He doesn’t know you yet, but he knows that he can’t stand how scared you are. And he knows that whoever that man is doesn't matter, he will never harm you ever again.
“Steve, Sam come here a sec,” he calls out across the room. You turn to see two equally tall men walking towards you. Bucky tilts his head down, he reaches for your chin but then stops. “Hey, don’t worry about anything, I got you.”
“I- thank you.” You keep your eyes averted, flinching when you hear your ex scream your name, telling you to get your ass over now.
Bucky laughs, his eyes hardening. “This is the last time you’ll have to worry about him.”
You shrink back when Bucky storms through the crowd, Sam and Steve following him. The room goes quiet when Bucky lifts him up by his neck and shakes him like a rag doll.
He slowly walks out, keeping your ex in the air. The conversations resume when the door closes behind him.
You weren’t expecting that. For once, your ex looked terrified and you can’t lie, it looked beautiful, you wish you could have taken a picture.
You wait nervously by the bar, perking up when Bucky and his friends come back in. He looks around, his face lighting up when he spots you. As he gets closer, you see his bottom lip is split open and his bruises mar his large knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I shouldn’t have asked-“
Bucky gently waves off your apologies. “This is nothing, I once tripped and landed face-first in a pile of wood, gave myself a black eye and broken nose.”
He gestures at his face. “This doesn’t even hurt. And around here we don’t hurt women, so don’t apologize and don’t thank me either. I’d do it again.”
“Thank you,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “And I’m sorry that you got hurt.”
“How about you stop by Martha’s diner tomorrow morning and check on me?” He smiles at you, his blue eyes widening a tad as he playfully raises his brows. “Make sure I’m not dying from my injuries. “
Bucky scrunches his nose at you as he places his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. He’s trying to make himself seem smaller, hoping he doesn’t scare you.
It's working. You feel protected for the first time in forever.
“I thought you said it didn’t hurt?” You question, fighting to keep the smile off your lips.
Bucky shrugs. “If it gets me a date with you, I’ll go out back and fall into another pile, a car, whatever I can find around here, hell I’ll use this counter,“he laughs, tapping the marble surface with his knuckles.
You snort, hiding your face behind your hands. Bucky can’t remember the last time he saw anyone as beautiful or sweet as you. He wants to make sure you never have that scared look in your pretty eyes again.
“I don’t wanna pressure you, I’m guessing you’ve been through a lot, so we can go as slow as you want.” He grabs a napkin off the bar counter and snags a pen out of his pocket.
Bucky finishes writing and slides the napkin to you and backs away.
“Something tells me, I would regret not asking you out, so here’s my number. I eat at that diner every day before work, it’s an open invitation so just show up whenever you want.”
You watch him walk away before looking down at the napkin. Under his number and name, is a tiny stick figure with oversized biceps face-first on the ground.
A wide smile stretches across your face. Yeah, your instincts were right about him.
Breakfast with Bucky sounds really good.
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐛.𝐛
a/n: this is one of my favorites & it was inspired by the endings beginnings gif set
pairing: bartender!bucky x reader
reblogs/feedback/likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged! however, DO NOT repost/steal ANY of my fics!
warnings: 18+, language, oral (m & f), fingering, unprotected sex, fluff, sorry for any missed typos
The bar has cleared out from its peak hours. All that is left are: the regulars, a few college kids playing darts, and a newly single girl sitting alone at a small booth in the corner.
You stare blankly at your empty glass, spinning it slowly in your hands. The glass has been empty for quite some time- you desperately want to get more, but your body felt glued to the booth cushion.
The alcohol has worn off and all that is left is the light fog around the front of your head.
With all the strength you can muster, you scoot off the booth with the glass barely hanging from your fingers. You sniffle and take a deep breath before walking to the near-empty bar.
Plopping yourself down on one of the stools, you wait patiently for the bartender to get to you.
He has been refilling you all night- you’re surprised he hasn’t cut you off.
He watched you the whole night to make sure you weren’t going to get out of hand- but you never reached the “security come to get her”.
Just sat in the booth the whole night, dressed in your black skirt and a graphic t-shirt that's tucked into the sides- with your hair pulled away from your face.
You intrigued him every time you came in- coming in happy as can be, ordering fruity cocktails. It all turns to shit the moment the man, who he assumes is was your boyfriend, comes in. That's when the sweet fruity cocktails turned to the bitter taste of whiskey.
The same man was with you earlier, but he had left in a fury a couple of hours ago. This interaction wasn’t the first time he saw him leave like this.
He caught glimpses of the sour relationship throughout the months, as this bar is was “your spot”. He thought how much of an asshole the guy was when he’d leave like that, sometimes in the middle of you talking.
His blood would boil at the sight, wishing you’d leave him already- growing protective whenever you'd come in, security on stand by every time.
When the man left, you wouldn't drink much after- only sit for an hour or two. Based on the unusual amount of whiskey you consumed tonight, he assumed there was a breakup.
From years of experience, he knew not to cut off someone freshly broken up with. There were rules he had set for situations like this.
Number one: do not comment about what is wrong.
Number two: do not go past the bar (including helping to the car or walking home).
Number three: do not kiss or flirt.
Number four: do NOT by any means, take a girl home.
With the experience, he knew to never break these rules- it would lead to unnecessary yelling and people hysterically crying.
You were handling the loss of the relationship much differently than previous customers. From the months of watching from the sidelines, he had a desire to comfort you.
You didn’t cry- not really, just sat in the booth downing glasses of the cheapest whiskey the bar offered. Every now and then your eyes fill with tears, but that’s when the whiskey would come into play- prolonging the sulking session.
Nonetheless, he watched you made sure nobody messed with you, and left you to cope on your own.
“Refill?” He asks, bringing the bottle to the counter and twisting the bottle cap off.
“Water, please.” You lightly shake your head.
“Whiskey’d out?” The glass fills and you take it, not bothering to make eye contact with him.
“Uhm, yeah,” A faint smile appearing and disappearing.
He looks at you- your eyes are red from the strain. Sitting quietly, you sip the glass of water.
There is a mental battle going on inside his head. Debating back and forth about breaking his rules, but his mouth is faster than his brain.
Number one: Do NOT comment about what is wrong.
“For what it’s worth, he seemed like a dick.” Giving in, he says, attempting to cheer you up, but you are caught off guard by the comment.
You didn’t think he was paying attention to the events that happened at the booth. Glancing up at him, you finally pay attention to the man who has been supporting your drinking habits.
He wears a red and black plaid shirt with a black t-shirt underneath and you could faintly smell his cologne from where you were sitting. His hair is tossed about and facial hair covering his jawline.
You are mesmerized by the sight in front of you.
“He is, but I'm the idiot that keeps going back.” Mumbling defeated, you finish the glass of water.
Beginning the spinning again, zoning out on the empty glass.
“But… I think this time is for real,” You add.
Raising an eyebrow, he tilts his head in confusion.
“Cheated.” Anger builds in the pit of his stomach as he nods along.
“His loss.” He brings the water tap to the glass, stopping the spinning.
You let your grip on the glass go, letting him refill it.
Your eyes flutter to his, taken back by how icy they look. He breaks the focus by putting the tap back down. He holds out his hand-
“James, but people call me Bucky.” You hesitantly shake his hand. His palms are smooth, the grip soothing you.
Swallowing hard, you pull away.
“Y/N.” You give your best smile you could manage.
Bucky smiles back before tending to the other customers. You watch him pour fruity drinks into glasses and laugh with the others.
He is charismatic, but not over the top. It’s a natural charm he has, one that’s captivating. He is whipping away the fallen liquid and crumbs from the counter. The smell of the grease had eased, leaving you to assuming closing time is soon. The college kids have left, leaving the dart vacant.
The regulars are finishing their drinks, before throwing a five-dollar bill down before disappearing outside. Meaning the only person left is the newly single girl.
Every now and then, Bucky glances at you while he cleans up.
The bar closed almost fifteen minutes ago, but he didn’t mind the company. His managers and co-workers leave him, but not without reminding you to lock up and kick the girl out.
He had no plans of kicking you out till he is finished. The TVs are playing reruns of friends.
Glimpses of a smile would appear when a comedic scene would come on. Bucky wished he had seen it more, but it would fade like the fruitiness of the drinks.
“Oh god, I didn’t even realize you guys closed. I’m so sorry-“
You frantically getting up from the stool when you see Bucky locking the front doors.
“You’re alright to stay longer if you want,”
The truth is you didn’t want to leave because the moment you leave, you know you’ll be forced to face reality.
“I don’t want you to have to stay longer than you have to.”
He shakes his head, pulling out another small glass.
Filling it with water as well,
“I don’t mind the company.”
The words fell from his lips making your stomach flutter.
Number two: Do not go past the bar (including helping to the car or walking home).
Bucky scrunches his dirty apron that hung around his waist. Tossing it in the hamper that stays by the entrance to the kitchen.
You tense up as he takes a seat next to you. Bucky smiles gesturing to cheers your glasses. You smile nervously, clinking the glasses before bringing it to your lips.
Resting the cup on the counter, he is staring at you- mesmerized by your beauty, even in the aftermath of a disaster night.
You’re avoiding eye contact as you are flushed. He chuckles at the reaction. You go to hide your face in your hands but being cut off by the gentle sound of Bucky’s voice.
“Don’t hide, you look great.”
This only furthers your desire to hide behind the tallest wall you could find. The real truth is that you haven’t been looked at like that in so long.
Your ex only looks at you like a prize he has won, showing you off like a trophy. This gaze was soft and admiring. You manage to look back at him with a soft grin, the first time one this genuine appears across your lips.
“Are you okay?” The smile fades from your lips.
Bucky’s face scrunches with concern. You take a deep breath and begin to talk about the break-up.
Bucky intently listens as you begin to vent about the severity of the break-up. He had cheated throughout the whole relationship, gaslighting you whenever you’d bring it up. Making you believe this next go-around would be better, he’d stop the affair, he’d stop lying- all the make you stay.
None of them were true promises, because weeks later he’d be back in a random girl’s bed.
You explain the insane reasons you stay, and this brings Bucky to an unusually heated level. Normally when people would use him as a free therapist while bartending, he wouldn’t be this emotionally attached to the events.
Bucky wanted to find him and beat him to a bloody pulp by the end of the story. If he had known how badly you were treated by him, he would have spoken up at previous nights.
“You’re too good for him anyway. Fuck him.”
Bucky’s tone comes across as more aggressive than he wanted it to. You crack a smile at the protectiveness. It was nice to have someone to be protective for once.
“I don’t know…” Your voice is soft and just below a whisper.
When you look back at Bucky, his bottom lip is tucked under the top. He bites back the urge to cup your face and press his lips against yours.
Showing you how you should truly be treated. Making you feel like you’re worthy of every good thing in the world. His eyes are pleading and yours are begging for him to do something.
You wish for him to take your mind off your shit ex. Wanting to forget the shit evening you had experienced. You need his soft lips against yours. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes. Knowing you both want the same thing, his gaze drifts to your lips.
Bucky leans in closer to you. Your breath hitches, begging with your eyes that he’d bring his lips to you.
Number three: do not kiss or flirt.
He takes the side of your face in his hand, fingers resting just below your ear. Bucky’s thumb rubbing lightly against the corner of your mouth. He watches your lips slowly part. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, before licking his own. Your chest is heavier and the amount of self-control you were exhibiting should be awarded.
Bucky takes one last breath before bringing his lips to meet yours. His tongue slipping so effortlessly into yours. Colliding against yours hungry and desperate.
Your eyes are tightly shut and your body aching to be against his. Bucky's lips pull apart from yours, leaving the two of you panting. It is quiet for a moment, the two of you mentally decide the pros and cons of what is about to happen if you continue.
You bring your lips back to his, more eager. This time, Bucky’s other hand is brought to the other side pulling you up and out of your seat. One hand moves from your cheek to your waist, guiding it back toward the pool table.
“Jump.” Bucky breathlessly mumbles against your lips.
His hands leave the sides of your face, assisting you. You are roughly placed on the green felt, letting your legs spread open for Bucky to move between them. You are washed over by the guilt of using him. You pull away from the kiss using your palm as a barrier between your bodies.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky is quick to back away in fear he hurt you in some way.
“I don’t want to use you.”
His facial expression changes.
“You’re not using me- I just want to make you feel good if you want to stop-“
That is all the confirmation you need from him before you reach and pull him back between your legs. Bucky brings his hand back to the side of your face, cupping it rougher than before. His other falls to your waist, scooting you closer to the edge of the table.
You grip the edge of the pool table, digging your nails into the felted edges. His fingers are searching desperately for the edge of your skirt.
Bucky finds the end and slides his palm along your thigh, slipping underneath the fabric. Your breath hitches and a quiet whimper falls from your lips. You break away from the kiss looking down as his palm lifts the fabric up.
Bucky drops down in front of you, pressing his lips against your leg. He peppers kisses on the inside of your leg, not breaking eye contact with you.
The intimacy of eye contact is foreign to you- intimacy is foreign. Passion is foreign. Watching a man worship your body is foreign. This is an experience unmatched by anyone you’ve been with, especially for someone who you barely know.
His kisses are innocent till he reaches your inner thigh. His eyes are darker than before, you watch in awe as he doesn’t leave a piece of skin uncovered in a kiss. Bucky held the sides of your hips as he began to trail kisses closer and closer to your clothed heat. He wants you to feel better. He wants you to know that someone is willing to treat you like you’re supposed to.
“Do you want me to stop?” He breaths, ready to devour you.
You shake your head, granting him full access to your heat. It began aching the moment Bucky dragged his finger over the covered area.
You try and steady your breathing but watching him focus so intently on you made it harder for you to breathe. He becomes eye level with your heat. While licking his lips, he tugs on the band of your panties.
You gently lift, allowing them to be slid off in a swift motion. The cool air hitting the moist area sending shivers down your spine.
“Shit,” Your voice is soft and quiet, as Bucky's tongue dips in between your folds- tasting your arousal.
It is a taste he could easily become addicted to if he wasn’t careful. A craving that will sneak up on him at any hour of the day.
“So sweet,” His stubble grazes your inner thigh adding to the sensation that is unfolding.
His tongue is warm, soothing the chill. He is licking up all the juices that are leaking from you. Your soft whines encourage him to lick around your clit. He is teasing you every time he reaches it and pulls back down.
One hand finds a rake through his hair, tugging lightly for him to continue. Bucky's lips work their magic, licking you all up. Gliding between your folds. His lips stop at the top of your heat and he uses his fingers to spread you open, revealing your clit.
It is calling his name and Bucky's thumb rubs small figure eights around the sensitive nerve, warming it up. You’re shocked at the motion, whimpering.
“Please, stop teasing,” You whine,
“Whatever you say, baby,”
His lips close around the nerve, sucking lightly at the flesh. His fingers push into your heat, soaked in your juices. Your mouth falls open and a string of curses escape. He hums against your heat swirling his tongue around your clit.
His fingers move faster, curling every few strokes. Hitting your g-spot every time, forming the small knot in the pit of your stomach. You felt the stir of the orgasm creeping, you don’t hold back any sounds.
His cock twitches at the sound of you. Throbbing against his jeans, begging to be freed and buried inside you.
“Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” You buck your hips against his lips, unexpectedly as he picks up the pace of his fingers and his tongue.
The grip on his hair tightens as you feel your walls closing around him. Waves of sensitivity and pleasure overtake you, leaving a whimpering mess. You finish around his fingers and his tongue is catching all the juices that surround the area. He hums sweetly at the taste of you.
Bucky's palms are rubbing your outer thighs, soothing and cooling you down from your high. You relax your grip and place them on the pool table, attempting to steady you breathing.
“You okay?” Bucky chuckles, standing up once more.
His facial hair glistened with your arousal. You look down at him still in his t-shirt and jeans, his flannel thrown on the floor during the heated make-out session. You glance down to see his bulge.
“Very okay.” You chuckle, flushed red cheeks and chest still rising and falling.
You reach for Bucky's belt, tugging it toward you. Your lips collide again, this time slower and more passionate- not as hungry and desperate. Your fingers undo his belt and unbutton his jeans.
Before you could reach inside and return the favor, he stops you.
“I want to be inside you.” Your nod, scooting back to the edge of the pool table.
Bucky pulls himself out, his cock dripping with precum. He was ready for you the moment you kissed him. He strokes himself, coating his precum around himself. Your heat aches at the sight of him.
Bucky runs the tip between your folds, gliding up and down, teasing you. You whine each time he passes your hole. He positions himself at your entrance, you wrap your arms around his neck, closing the gap between you. Bucky's low moan is music to your ears as he slides himself inside you.
He is much bigger than you had anticipated. His strokes are slow and deep, allowing your body to adjust to his size. Bucky's lips are attached to the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly at the flesh, his tongue soothing the nips.
“You’re doing so well, baby, with my cock buried deep inside you,”
His praises make your stomach flutter and your back arch. Bucky takes the opportunity and lays you down. Only removing himself to climb on top of you. You feel the roughness of the felt against your bare ass, but not having time to dwell once his cock fills you again.
“There you go baby, nice and deep,”
Bucky gains more access to go deep and faster than before. Your hips dig into the pool table at the intensity of the strokes. You are a whimpering mess, legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him inside you, fingers clawing at his lower back- begging for him to go deeper.
Bucky's grunts and curses are all you hear as you feel the familiar stirring in your lower abdomen.
Bucky's cock twitches and his strokes becoming lazier. Your hands leave his back as Bucky's hands reach for them. You interlock your fingers, and they rest above your head. The passion between you increases the faster his strokes become.
Each stroke grazing your g-spot, simulating you further.
“Bucky, I need-“ Your eyes roll back as one hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles around the nerve.
He knows your close, but he is almost there too. Bucky speeds up his thrusts, but not removing the stimulation around your clit. His grip on your hand tights as he brings to grunt and curse.
“Fuck!” He grunts.
Both of you reach your highs. You see stars as you’re being filled up by him. His fingers loosen their grip around you and your clit. You’re hips buck and your walls pulsating wildly, milking Bucky dry of his load.
The two of you are breathless and exhausted. Never once has a man been able to make you finish twice in one go-round. Bucky collapses next to you on the small pool table. You turn to face him, but he is already staring at you.
“You are absolutely incredible,” You breathe.
His cheeks darken with red and his hand cups your face once more, pulling you for another kiss. You pull away, staring at each other for what felt like forever. Bucky is taking in everything. Your eyes, your lips, the small drops of sweat that were around your forehead.
Number four: do NOT by any means, take a girl home.
“Come home with me?”
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summary you take care of your drunk bucky.
pairing bucky barnes x reader
warnings drunk!bucky, needy!bucky, pure fluff.
a/n I hope you like it!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
“How did you even manage to get him drunk?” you said and sighed as you kept looking at your drunk boyfriend who was looking at you with a loving stare, Steve and Sam next to his sides, helping him stand up.
“I’m not drunk, baby.” Bucky said as he tried to shake off his friends’ arms on him.
“It’s that Asgardian Mead. We just wanted to try it but, well, Bucky carried on a little.” Steve said, almost like apologising. You sighed and shaked your head. Bucky had never got drunk before and you didn’t know what to expect.
“Okay. It’s okay. C’mere big boy.” you said as Sam and Steve left Bucky’s sides, him almost falling on the top of you.
“I’m not drunk,” Bucky said again as he tried to hug you, mostly leaning his beefy body on you. You tried to keep standing up as you mumbled goodbyes to Steve and Sam. They closed the door, leaving you with your drunk Bucky.
“Doll?” Bucky muttered as he kept hugging you. His arms were wrapped around your waist and his face was burried to your hair.
“I missed you. You smell good.” he said and smiled with delight. You broke the hug and looked at him. His hair was messy and eyes were a little tired, but he looked as good as always.
“Bucky, you had been away for 3 hours.” you mumbled, trying to walk him to your shared bathroom.
“I always miss you. Never leave me again, please.” he said and hugged you again. You tried to move away from his arms but it was impossible. It was funny to see your tall, beefy boyfriend clinging onto you like a baby.
“Bucky, I didn’t leave you. You just went out with your friends, remember?” you asked and he just hummed, kissing your hair.
“Let’s get you in shower, big boy.” you said as you tried to leave his embrace again but he whined.
“I don’t want shower. I want to cuddle, please. I missed you.” he said, cupping your cheeks and pouting.
“Buck-” you started and he sat down on the bed, pulling you to his lap with him.
“Please” he whined and you sighed. He laid down on his back and you laid on the top of him, your head on his chest.
“Oh god. I love you so much. I’m never going away again. Let's stay here forever.” he mumbled and kissed you. You giggled into the kiss. He grinned at you.
“Bucky, you just went out with your friends. I love you too.” you said and kissed his cheek.
“You are so pretty. You know that, right? God, I am a lucky man.” he kept rambling and you giggled.
“Bucky, you are drunk.” you said and closed your eyes, getting ready to sleep.
“Eyes are sober, doesn’t matter. I always think you are pretty. You are the prettiest girl ever. I love you so much,” he said, making laugh, you shake your head.
“You are soft.” Bucky said and tightened his arms around you.
“Goodnight, Bucky.” you mumbled to his chest.
“No goodnight kiss?” he pouted and touched your chin. You rolled your eyes and leaned in, kissing his lips. He tasted like asgardian mead and you giggled again.
“Goodnight, angel. I love you.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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can you write a dads best friend or a best friends dad kinda of bucky smut i love your work
Oh myyyy, I thought I was obsessed with Dad’sbestfriend!Bucky but Bestfriend’sdad!Bucky put ideas in my head that I can’t get rid of 😩 I will probably be thinking about this for the foreseeable tbh
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: Probably around 2k idk I wrote it on my phone
Summary: Your boyfriend cheats on you so you spend the weekend with your best friend and her dad Bucky to cheer you up
Warnings: Smut, significant age gap, dilf!bucky, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, phone sex I guess?, size kink, praise kink, pet names, angst, cheating
Minors, do not interact
“Shit angel, sorry I didn’t realise you were in here.” Bucky’s little gasp was enough to pull your head out of your phone, tears staining your cheeks as you reread all the messages from your ex boyfriend who had just admitted he was cheating on you for the past month. Bucky looked so concerned, his eyes flitting around the room for his daughter, Amy, your college best friend, knowing that you probably needed some comfort from someone a little more feminine right now. Amy had invited you to stay over for the weekend, hoping to distract you through the hardest part of your breakup, when everything was still so fresh and raw and painful. Six months of your life had been wasted on that asshole, six months of making plans, of feeling like you were in love, of letting this man walk all over you because that’s how relationships work, right? Surely compromise was healthy? But taking a step back, you could see how much he had taken advantage of the fact you loved him. It was always you that compromised, while he never budged an inch, right down to where you went for dinner or what movie you watched.
“Sorry Mr Barnes, Amy just went to the store.” You sniffled, embarrassed by the state he had just seen you in, trying desperately to dry your tears.
“Oh honey, don’t apologize. I jus’ hate seeing you like this. That asshole didn’t deserve you to begin with. And hey, if you say the word, I’ll go break both his legs for you. Teach him a lesson for messin’ with my girl.” You huffed out a little laugh at how serious he seemed, no hint of a joke in his tone. His arms were full of neatly folded clothes of Amy’s, suggesting he had spent the afternoon staying out of the way to give you girls some space.
“Thanks Mr Barnes, I’ll keep that in mind.” You couldn’t help the smile tugging at the edge of you lips despite your tears and he gave you a little half nod in return, just happy to see you in slightly better spirits.
“You know, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. It’s not a problem. Jus’ wanna make sure you’re okay.” He suggested thoughtfully, laying the clothes carefully in their respective drawers, trying not to crease them, gold ridges in his arm shimmering against the dark metal. “But only if you get used to calling me ‘Bucky’, this ‘Mr Barnes’ shit is way too formal.” He teased. God, that little half smile of his was so attractive, eyes somehow full of both mischief and understanding, making you fidget nervously. You had spent plenty of time at Amy’s since you met at college a few years ago, both Amy and Bucky knew all about your relationship with Aaron, given that you probably spent more time at their’s than you did with your own parents.
“Thanks Bucky, you guys are so nice to me.” You smiled softly, still sniffling a little.
“God sugar, don’t mention it. You think I don’t know how often you cheer Amy up? You girls look out for each other, it sure helps me sleep at night knowing she’s got such a good friend in you.” He looked so sincere, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before.
“You ever need anything, let me know okay? Don’t even hesitate.” You nodded, giving him a warm smile, noticing his little dimples. Damn, this man was somehow getting better looking by the minute.
“Oh hey dad.” Amy smiled, coming down the hall with her bags of snacks and movies, determined to take your mind off the breakup.
“Hey honey. I was headin’ out but you girls have a nice night, okay?” Bucky was happy to duck out, letting you get into whatever you had planned for the weekend before he got roped into watching chick flicks with you both.
You and Amy had such a nice night together, laughing and eating junk, watching movies and just generally feeling distracted from the sadness that had settled in your chest since the breakup. You had both fallen asleep early, bowls of snacks discarded between you in her double bed.
Unfortunately you didn’t stay asleep for long and when you woke, sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. God you ached inside, wondering why on earth you weren’t good enough, why Aaron could possibly have needed more when you had given him everything. You couldn’t have given anything more to the relationship, now getting annoyed at yourself for changing so much to suit a man who clearly didn’t even deserve it. The week following a breakup always felt the hardest, that sad, lonely feeling was hard to shake, especially after being cheated on. You felt like you just couldn’t lie still in bed, feeling the urge to toss and turn until sleep beckoned you again. But that could be hours away so instead, you pulled yourself from the bed, lifting your phone off the soft duvet and padding quietly to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea.
The cold wooden floor under your feet was such a contrast to the warmth of the bed you had just left, the little shorts of your pyjama bottoms tickling the tops of your thighs.
“Can’t sleep angel?” Came the voice from the kitchen as you rounded the corner, making you jump. “Didn’t mean to scare ya toots.” Bucky’s low chuckle flooded you with warmth. He was sitting in his gym gear, clearly not long home from his evening run.
“Lot to think about.” You smiled sadly, hands gripping the cold screen of your phone, thinking about how you still hadn’t got used to the fact you had changed your Lock Screen from a lovely photo of you and Aaron to a photo of you and Amy together.
“He wasn’t right for you angel. Didn’t even need to meet him to know that much.” Bucky was trying his best to be sympathetic and considerate but seeing you were now losing sleep over this asshole was killing him.
“Yeah, clearly not. Just wish I’d known that six months ago.” You could feel the knot in your chest tightening, a lump in your throat forming of its own accord.
“Oh toots, you just gotta make these mistakes. That’s what life is about.” Bucky’s voice was so soothing, his many extra years of experience giving him some additional wisdom.
“But God knows, nothin’ got me through my divorce like a good rebound.” His voice was a lower chuckle, knowing you were old enough to be able to have this conversation with you.
“Now that’s a suggestion.” You laughed quietly, taking a seat at the kitchen island beside him.
“C’mon, a pretty girl like you? Wouldn’t be hard to find someone to take your mind off Adam.”
“Aaron.” You corrected, not that it really mattered now, chuckling a little at his indifferent shrug.
“Just one good orgasm toots, that asshole will be the furthest thing from your mind.” Bucky’s confidence almost made you shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your bare shoulders.
“No one has given me one of those in months.” You laughed sadly, a little blush beginning to dust over your cheeks.
“You’re kiddin’ me sugar, asshole never made you finish?” Bucky asked, hardly able to believe his ears. That blush turned into a fully fledged beam of heat radiating from your cheeks as you shook your head.
“Oh angel, that must’ve been a long six months.” He genuinely sounded so sorry for you, with good reason. It was so hard being left unsatisfied after sex, getting so worked up but not even able to get close.
“Tell me you didn’t fake it though.” He quizzed, one eyebrow raised, hopeful that you hadn’t even went to the effort of saving Aaron’s ego.
“It was shit, I had to do something.” You sighed sadly, noticing his little upset tut.
“Should let a real man treat you right. Let you cum so hard you see stars. A man who doesn’t ask you if you came but makes you.” His voice was low and gravelly, thinking about how pretty you must look when you cum.
“Wouldn’t even know where to find a man like that.” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper, nearly getting lost in the crisp evening air.
“Could help you out if you want sugar, bet feelin’ you cum is even better than I imagined.” His little admission made you gasp, thinking about how he must touch himself, hand wrapped around his leaking cock to thoughts of you.
You let his words hang in the air for a moment before you nodded.
“Is that an offer?” You asked softly, almost unsure you had even heard him right.
“It is if you want it to be.” He agreed, watching your expression carefully, hoping he hadn’t entirely misread the situation.
“Please Bucky.” You nodded, noticing his little contented groan at your decision. Ever so slowly, Bucky reached his flesh hand up, cradling your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours. All thoughts of Aaron left your head suddenly, phone discarded on the cold, dark marble. Your hands tangled in his hair, his tongue moving deliciously against your own, tasting, feeling, teasing. You felt like you just couldn’t get enough of him, loving how your own need was completely reciprocated by Bucky.
“Gotta taste you angel, thought ‘bout this for so long.” His metal hand glimmered in the moonlight as it shifted between your thighs. His eyes were trained on your parted, plump lips, thriving off the needy gasp that fell from them at how good his little movements between your legs felt, rubbing you through your pyjama shorts.
“Bucky, please, fuck me.” You all but whimpered, eyes squeezed shut from his teasing touches.
“Oh sweetie, that’s your whole problem. You younger folks think sex is the only way to feel good. So impatient, just lemme take care of you.” He was almost groaning already as his fingers flexed against your clothed sex, the fabric collecting the wetness that was already gathering in your panties. The sight of Bucky sinking to his knees in front of you was almost enough to get you off then and there, pressing you into the hard edge of the counter as he kissed up the inside of your thighs.
“Can almost smell how needy you are princess, so fuckin’ frustrated aren’t you? Don’t worry, gonna fix that for you.” His voice was sinfully low, flesh and metal fingers trailing over your exposed skin until he reached the fabric of your pyjama shorts, pulling them down your legs to pool on the floor in a heap. He pulled your panties to the side, revelling in the slick that coated his fingers as he did so.
“So wet for me angel, givin’ me plenty to lick up, aren’t you. Such a good girl. Knew you would be. Sweet little pussy has been neglected for too long.” He was almost growling, lips coming into contact with your drenched core all of a sudden. You mewled lightly at the feeling, your bottom lip sucked into your mouth, being nibbled on by your teeth to help you control your sounds. His tongue was everywhere at once, firm, broad strokes from your dripping hole to your clit making you keen against his face.
“So eager baby, knew you would be. Need this pretty cunt filled, don’t ya?” His taunts took your breath away as a cold, heavy metal finger made its way into your body, crooked nicely against your walls.
“More Bucky, God, feels so good.” You whined, his tongue flicking over your clit.
“See angel, this is what you get when a man takes the time to learn your body. You’re mine now, gonna treat this pretty pussy right.” The thought of being Bucky’s made you head swim with excitement, your body almost trembling under his touch. Pent up need and frustration was threatening to consume you, a hand falling to his hair to press his face harder against your core. Bucky happily obliged, a smug look on his face as his lips connected with your core, a second metal finger slipping into your needy body. A deep groan fell from you, knowing he was working you far too efficiently towards a long overdue orgasm.
“Don’t you dare hold back sweetie. Want you to let go for me.” Bucky’s lips were soaked in your slick as he mumbled the words before diving right back in to continue eating you like a man starved. It was all too much, a high whine of his name leaving your lips as he sucks your bundle of nerves, his fingers never ceasing inside you. Your orgasm hit you so hard and fast, knocking all breath from your lungs as the hot tingling feeling took over. Bucky gasped, feeling the evidence of your high seep from your body onto his face. One of your hands was buried in his hair, the other gripping the island so tight, your knuckles had gone pale, riding your high out against his tongue.
“Fuckin’ amazin’ sweetie, you did so well for me.” He gasped, rising from his knees to crash his lips against yours, making you taste yourself on his mouth. His dusting of stubble was still wet from your release, the fierce intensity of his kiss making your knees even weaker.
“Bucky, need more.” You whimpered against his mouth, lust so evident in your tone.
“My silly little bunny gone cock drunk, hm? Can’t get enough now, can ya angel, told you, ya gotta date a real man for a change. Gonna take this little body apart.” His threats didn’t scare you, rather, they excited you as he undid his belt buckle, pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs, hoisting you up onto the island by your thighs.
Your mouth watered at the sight of how huge he was, his head dark and angry from being so neglected.
“Fuck, gotta get a condom toots.” He whispered against your ear, dragging the weeping head over your slick folds, more to tease himself than anything else.
“ ‘m on the pill Bucky, doesn’t matter.” You gasped, fingers wrapping in his shirt to pull it up over his head, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.
Bucky cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You really think he was worth it?” Bucky groaned softly, beginning to press into your tight heat. It was such a stretch already and he had hardly begun.
“Ah, feels so good, so big Bucky, you’re huge.” You completely ignored his last question, choosing instead to let every cohesive thought escape. A little smirk teased at the corners of Bucky’s mouth, pressing into your tight heat gradually until he was fully seated inside you, loving how you squirmed uncomfortably at the stretch.
“Tightest little pussy babydoll, takin’ me so well too angel. Know it hurts but you’re doin’ so good for me, yeah? Gonna make you cum so hard you forget all bout the pain.” You couldn’t help but believe his promises, knowing he could live up to them from what you had experienced already. After a few moments of letting you get accustomed to his size he began to move, dragging himself from the warmth of your body, only to press back in, pulling groans from both of you.
“Fuck, not gonna be able to see you ‘round here again without thinkin’ of this. Gonna ruin everyone else for you sweetie, nothin’ll ever compare to me.” His words could only come out in breathy gasps as he rutted into you, loving your little sighs as he sped up. Your orgasm was bubbling in you deliciously, heat growing in your belly, threatening to consume you once more.
All thoughts of pleasure were quickly pulled away from you though as your phone began to buzz rhythmically on the counter, a picture of Aaron popping up on the screen. Your heart sank in your chest, as did Bucky’s for a brief moment.
“Answer it toots.” Bucky growled against you, not slowing his pace at all. You shook your head, words unable to come out until Bucky sped up his thrusts.
“Answer it. Let him hear you cum since he’s never gonna get to feel it.” Bucky’s little taunt sounded so good and without thinking, you reached down, accepting the call.
“Hello?” You heard the familiar voice call from down the phone, your head only half connected with the fact he was listening.
“Go away Aaron,” you gasped, Bucky angling his thrusts to hit that sweet spot inside you the man on the phone could never find. You held back your groans but only for so long before the pleasure became unbearable.
“Wanted to say I’m sorry. I was so fucking stupid, want you back.” He sounded so sincere but you couldn’t possibly find it in yourself to care.
Your grunts were slipping out of you, alarmingly loudly, Bucky taking so much pleasure from knowing Aaron was listening to you getting fucked in a way he could never have offered you.
“You there? Everything okay?” You heard from down the phone, your whole body beginning to clench again from the pressure building up inside you.
“She’s busy, asshole.” Bucky groaned, fingers slipping between your bodies to rub your clit mercilessly. You couldn’t help how you gave in, squeezing Bucky so hard, your pussy gushing as you came, wetness coating both your bodies. Bucky practically came from the sight of you squirting, riding out your insane high on his cock. Your head was thrown back, hips rolling against him to ensure his cock was seated as deeply inside you as possible.
“Fuck toots, never seen anythin’ hotter in my life, you fuckin’ squirted? Fuck, thought I’d ruin you, think you’re gonna ruin me.” Bucky was absolutely gone, completely blissed out, rutting into your tight, gushing heat until he came inside you with a filthy moan, almost collapsing against you.
You felt so drowsy coming down from your high, Bucky’s cock slipping out of you, your feet landing in the little puddle you had made on the kitchen floor, legs still unsteady. Bucky tapped your phone screen, huffing out a tiny laugh at the the fact Aaron had hung up the call.
“Don’t think he’ll be calling you back toots.” He laughed sheepishly, dressing himself again after blocking Aaron for good measure.
“Yeah. Good riddance.” You laughed, running a hand through your now messy hair, loving the little smile on Bucky’s face.
“That’s my girl. Now c’mon. You can sleep in my bed.” He laughed with a little wink, scooping you in his strong arms.
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