#bucky/reader lemon

[nastybuckybarnes]

Riding Lessons

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve just passed your knowledge test and now you need someone to teach you how to ride. Who better than your dad’s best friend? 

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 21, Bucky is mid-forties),

Word Count: 3.8K

A/n: I have a new obsession and it’s dbf!bucky. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this and I love you all very much!

~*~

You straddle the bike, feet planted firmly on the ground as your hands grip the handlebars.

“It’s heavier than I thought!” You tell your dad with an excited grin.

He only chuckles and pats your right hand.

“Yeah, it’ll take some getting used to.”

“Hey, Kid, be careful on that. Don't want you to hurt yourself,” A new, cockier voice says.

You hold back a shiver and an eye-roll as Bucky emerges from your house, a bottle of beer in hand.

“She just passed her knowledge test,” your dad says proudly, a smile on his face. You grin right back at him and nod, your eyes flickering to his best friend for just a moment.

“Now I just need to get in some practice with a good teacher.”

Your dad nods before his face lights up, and you can almost see the lightbulb over his head.

“Maybe Bucky could teach you how to ride!” He suggests, an innocent smile on his face.

Your bottom lip immediately goes between your teeth at the innuendo and you look over at the huge tattooed brunet whose eyes are now focused on you.

His steel-blue eyes get dark as he imagines you riding not only his bike, but his cock, too.

“Yeah, I could give you some lessons if you want, Kid. Can’t promise I’ll be the best teacher, but I’ll give it a shot,” he says after a moment, watching you lick your lips.

His nickname for you is a constant reminder that your crush is just that: a crush. Never to be more than a dream.

And, although being near him is hard enough to do without your panties getting wet, he’s been riding for almost thirty years. Where else are you gonna find a better -and cheaper- teacher?

“Sure, that’d be great, Bucky. Thanks.”

He nods, “it’s gonna cost you, though. Each lesson I expect a case of beer, yeah? Maybe a pizza, too.”

You roll your eyes but nod nonetheless.

“Can we get started now? I wanna be able to ride before the summer’s over.”

He swallows hard before answering, his wicked brain once again conjuring up images of you naked on his lap, bouncing on his cock. Those perfect tits in his face and that tight-

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m not doing anything later. I could swing by with one of my bikes, show you the ropes and whatnot,” he offers, shifting his weight to try and hide his growing erection.

“That’d be amazing! Thank you so much!” The excitement in your eyes does little to stop his swelling cock, but, thankfully, your father grabs your attention before you can notice the tent in his pants.

“Mark got tickets to the hockey game tonight, but you know you’re always welcome here, Buck. It’s not too late for you to change your mind about coming with me,” your dad says, already knowing the answer.

Hockey isn’t Bucky’s favourite sport, and he’s got much better plans for tonight.

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, “no thanks. Tell the guys I say ‘hi’, though. And make sure you invite them to the barbecue, yeah?”

Your dad nods easily then heads inside the house, leaving you alone in the garage with Bucky.

Nervous winds give life beneath the wings of the butterflies in your stomach, and you nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’ll probably swing by around six. I expect a pizza and a pack of beer to be waiting, got it?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “you’re gonna drink and teach me to drive?”

He chuckles and takes a step toward you, towering over you and looking into your eyes, “honey, I’m a grown man. A beer or two isn’t gonna put me over the limit. Besides, you’re not gonna be riding that thing fully today, anyway. Maybe you’ll make it out of the driveway, but I doubt it.”

You frown but nod, slightly intimidated by the man in front of you.

He slowly takes a step around you, taking a subtle inhale and holding back a groan at the sweet scent of raspberries wafting from your skin.

He walks over to his restored Camaro and slides in, giving you a raise of his fingers in farewell, before peeling out of the driveway and out of sight.

~*~

You spend the next several hours worrying about your lesson with Bucky.

You’ve only had a crush on the man for years, and now you’re getting to be alone with him. You’re not sure if you should swoon or combust.

The second option is definitely looking more appealing when you hear him pull up to your house, his bike rumbling.

With a deep breath and a final fix of your hair, you venture downstairs and outside, grabbing the pizza and beer on the way.

“Hey, Kid. I see you brought my payment,” Bucky says, a grin on his face when he sees you.

You smile, trying your best not to be shy but he makes it so hard.

His huge body takes up so much space in the garage, thick thighs straddling a Ducati.

“Yeah, hope you don’t get too carried away before actually teaching me, though,” you tease, setting everything down on one of the tables against the wall.

He only chuckles and kicks down the kickstand, then gets off of his bike to grab a beer.

“First I want you to tell me where the throttle is,” he says, popping the cap off with his belt buckle then bringing it to his lips.

You watch, entranced, as his pink lips wrap around the bottle. A drop of liquid trickles from the corner of his mouth down his chin, and you follow it with your eyes as it trails down his neck and then disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

Bucky watches you as you stare at him, and he can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest when you pull your bottom lip into your mouth.

Slowly, he lowers the bottle and wipes the drop up, then takes a step toward you.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You gonna show me what you know?”

His voice snaps you back to the present and you raise your eyes to his, embarrassment filling you as you realize he caught you staring.

“Uh, the throttle is here,” you whisper, walking over to your bike and touching the right handlebar.

“Perfect. How do you get on a bike? Show me.” He could just ask you to explain it, but he wants to see you straddle the bike.

You walk to the left side then step over the seat, your hands coming to rest on the handlebars instinctively.

“Nice. Now, where is the rear brake?” He asks, stepping closer to the front of the bike to watch as you point just in front of the right footpeg.

“Now, front brake?”

Your fingers lightly graze the lever on the handlebar in front of the throttle.

“Gear shift and clutch?”

You point to the pedal in front of the left footpeg, then the lever behind the left handlebar.

“Look at you go. Where’s the kill switch?”

Your fingers dance over the button beside the right handlebar and he nods proudly.

“Very nice. Okay, I want you to kick the kickstand up and then just stand there, balance the weight of the bike, okay? That’s a big thing is getting used to how it feels to have something so big between your legs.”

Your core dampens at his words and your gaze drops to his crotch for just a moment before you do as instructed.

The bike is heavy between your legs, and you plant your feet to try and maintain control.

“Just like that, good girl.” It slips through his lips before he can stop it and you instantly melt into a puddle of arousal.

The bike wobbles and Bucky steps forward, grabbing the handlebars to stop it from toppling and taking you with it.

“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hands covering yours and squeezing as he steadies the machine.

You regain your strength and nod, holding the bike tighter.

“So now just walk it back and forth, okay? I’m gonna move with you until you get comfortable with the weight.”

You nod then take a deep breath and push the bike forward slowly.

Each step is small and wobbly, but after a few minutes, you start to get the hang of it.

“Okay, honey, I’m gonna step away so you can really feel it. I’ll be right beside you though.”

You nod and watch as he steps aside, slowly pushing forward and back again.

You give him an excited smile and he grins right back.

“Now start her up! You’ll be good in neutral, then I'll show you how to kick it into gear.”

You start the bike and it rumbles to life beneath you, the vibration shaking you slightly.

“Now, pull in the clutch and kick down on the gearshift into first gear.”

You do exactly that, keeping a firm grip on the clutch.

“Slowly let go of the clutch. Don’t give it any throttle yet,” he instructs, stepping beside you as you follow his directions.

The bike creeps forward and you instinctively squeeze the clutch again, squealing when you teeter away from him.

Bucky lunges forward, one arm coming across your legs to grab the side of the bike while the other grabs you, his hand resting half on your ass, half on your back.

He looks up at you to make sure you’re okay, but you can’t breathe.

He’s looking at you through his lashes, lips parted and pupils wide.

“Don’t let it scare you,” he teases softly, slowly rising up to his full height. His hand moves from the bike to your thigh while the other hand stays on your back, and you need to crane your neck to look at him.

He watches you as you lean your head back to look at him and he can’t help but wonder what your pretty face would look like if he were to spit on it right now.

Or cum on it.

God, he knows you'd look so pretty all covered in his cum, mascara running down your cheeks.

He wants to grab your face and shove his cock in your mouth.

Your innocent eyes look up at him, lashes fluttering, and it takes everything in him not to stroke your lips with his thumb.

He looks so intimidating from here. So tall and big and- your eyes drop down to his crotch only to widen comically.

Hard.

He’s hard.

And he’s fucking huge.

Your eyes dart back up to his and he has to hold back a chuckle at the wonder written across your face.

So many nasty thoughts swim through his mind. There are a thousand things he wants to say and none of them are appropriate given the fact that you’re his best friend’s daughter.

Instead, he takes a slow step back, then another, then walks to the table along the wall to grab another beer.

“We’re gonna try something a little bit different now, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

He walks back to you and steps over the back of your bike, straddling it and nudging you forward a bit until you’re as far forward as you can comfortably sit.

“Okay, I’m gonna explain everything, and you’re just gonna do what I say.”

A shiver races down your spine and all he wants to do is grab a handful of your hair and fuck you until you’re crying.

You nod, like the obedient little girl he knows you are, and a grin grows on his face.

“Ease up on the clutch again. We’re gonna walk in a little circle. I’ve got you, honey.” He’s one hundred percent doing this on purpose now, but he doesn't care.

The way you looked at him after seeing his erection is enough for him to know you’re not exactly opposed to whatever’s happening.

You ease up on the clutch and try to focus on the machine beneath you, not the heat radiating off of the man behind you. The man who now has one hand resting on your waist while the other holds his beer.

You pull forward slowly, then push on the right handlebar slightly, a jolt of excitement going through you as you move to the left.

“There you go, baby, just like that,” he whispers, his breath dusting over the back of your neck.

You clench your thighs around the bike, desperate for some friction against your dripping core.

You do another turn slowly but surely, walking your feet alongside the bike, and the hand on your waist gives you a squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

You squeeze the clutch and the brake hard, clenching your hands into as tight of fists as you can manage, and you lurch forward, your heart racing as your core throbs.

The sudden stop surprises Bucky, and he bumps into you harder than anticipated, sending his beer spilling across your shirt.

You gasp, arching away from the cold liquid.

“Sorry, kid. Here, put it back in neutral and shut it down. I think we can call it a night. I’ll help you clean up.” Is he hoping he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of you in just your bra? Absolutely. Is he ashamed? Not as much as he should be.

You do as instructed, waiting until after he gets up to move because you’re sure you’ll leave a wet spot on the seat.

You only get up when his back is turned, and then you wipe the seat quickly.

“You coming?”

Your eyes dart to his and, judging based on the knowing grin on his face, you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were.

“Y-yeah.”

You follow him into the house, closing the garage door tightly behind you.

He leads the way to the laundry room and you slowly follow, your heart racing at all the different dirty thoughts swirling through your mind.

He waits in the doorway while you step into the cool room, your back to him as you take a deep breath.

This is it. This is where a line is crossed and your relationship with your dad’s best friend will change.

You pull your wet shirt over your head and toss it into the washing machine, turning to look at the older man.

He stares at you, his dark eyes focused on your chest.

“Looks like I spilled a little on there, too,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly finding yours.

You hold his gaze as you unclasp your bra and let it drop to the floor, your breasts bare and your nipples hard.

Slowly, he steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he approaches.

You tilt your head back when he comes to a stop in front of you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your quick breaths.

“That’s better. Doesn’t it feel nice to be out of those sticky wet clothes?” He asks softly, his fingers lightly dusting over your sides.

Goosebumps rise on your skin and you nod, unable to form a sentence.

“You’ve got a little bit here, though. Don’t want it to stick.” He drops his head down, warm tongue darting out to lick up a drop of beer that found your skin.

A gasp leaves your mouth and your hands come up instinctively to grab his shoulders.

Taking that as a green light, the big man in front of you grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, dropping his hold to your hips when you wrap your legs around his waist.

His erection presses against your core and you can’t help but moan softly in his ear at the feeling of it.

He sits you on top of the washing machine and forces his way between your legs, holding your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

Your eyes are hooded and you swear if he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to explode.

“Do you want something, pretty girl?” He asks, pink lips pulled into a smile when you nod.

“Ask for it then, be a big girl.”

You lean your forehead against his chest and whine. You can’t help but feel tiny before him.

“Please, Bucky. I want you to touch me.”

Your words go straight to his cock and he can’t do anything to stop himself from doing exactly what you want.

One of his hands finds your breast, toying with your nipple while the other hand dips into your pants with practiced ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked, sweetheart. Is this all for me, babygirl?” He already knows the answer, but seeing you all flustered is adorable and makes him want to fuck you even more.

“Yeah,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him as he slides a finger inside of you.

He doesn’t have much room to work within the confines of your pants, but he makes do with what he has, one finger massaging your g-spot while another rubs your clit.

“O-oh! Like that, fuck... just like that...” your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he grins.

He leans forward and wraps his mouth around your other nipple and you toss your head back, arching your back and further pushing your chest into his mouth.

“Please... I’m gonna cum...”

He continues his assault on your young body, watching through dark eyes as you fall apart because of him, as your tight young cunt clenches around his fingers and fuck, he can’t wait to get his cock in you.

The front door opens and you hear your dad’s voice call out to you, making your eyes widen.

Bucky doesn't stop. He doesn’t even slow down.

No, he keeps his hand between your legs, determined to make you cum whether your dad finds out or not.

“You’d better answer him, sweetheart,” he whispers around your nipple, his teeth scraping against the bud.

You whimper softly and nod, bucking your hips into his hand as he continues working you closer and closer to that edge.

“I-I’m just grabbing a shirt!” You call, your voice faltering when Bucky bites your nipple roughly.

“Is Bucky still here?”

You bite your lip to try and hold back a moan as the coil in your belly tightens almost to the point of snapping.

“Answer him,” the man whispers from between your legs, scraping his teeth up your neck.

“Uh, yeah... somewhere,” you call, brows drawing together as you feel it coming.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, I’ll be back down in a minute.”

“O-Okay.”

Bucky licks your cheek then holds your throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off your air.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream of pleasure and he grins, feeling your walls clamp down around his fingers.

“There you go, there’s my good girl. Such a good girl, cumming for me like that,” he whispers against your skin, peppering kisses wherever he can reach as he fucks you through your climax.

Finally, he releases your throat and pulls his fingers from between your legs, and you suck in a huge breath, body like jell-o as he licks his fingers.

“Find a shirt then come on out, I’m sure your old man wants to know how good you were for me,” he whispers, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging your head back.

He plants a sloppy, erotic kiss on your mouth, then steps away from you and leaves the laundry room, fixing his erection on the way.

You stay there, panting on the washing machine for a long while before slowly climbing down on shaky legs.

You find a shirt and yank it over your head, then venture out to find your dad and Bucky.

The two of them are in the living room, sharing the pizza and some beer.

You take a seat next to Bucky, your thighs still shaking a bit, and smile at your dad.

“So how was the lesson?” He asks around a mouthful of food.

“It was good. He’s a good teacher.” You try to keep your voice level, you really do, but it’s hard to act normal while you recover from the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Nah, she’s just a good listener, picks up on things quickly. Real good at doing what she’s told.” Bucky’s hand squeezes your thigh and your dad nods, hardly paying attention.

“How was the game?” With those three words, Bucky has your dad launching into a detailed story of the hockey game. Thoroughly distracted, your dad doesn't notice when his best friend slips his hand higher on your leg to cup your mound.

You cross your legs and bite your bottom lip, hoping he doesn't notice anything.

When Bucky gets a little too daring, you stand up.

“I uh, I’m gonna go to bed. Thank you, Bucky, for the lesson.”

He nods, dark eyes on yours and filled with something that looks a little intimidating.

“Of course. If you’re free tomorrow night, maybe we can actually get you on the road, show you how it feels to actually ride.”

You swallow hard and nod, unable to look away.

“Goodnight, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You turn without another word and race up the stairs as fast as your shaking legs can manage, your core throbbing with each step.

You try to fall asleep, you really do, but you can’t get the image of him out of your mind. Even when your fingers dip into your panties to try and alleviate the tingling between your thighs, nothing helps.

Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know nothing will ever feel as good.

“I didn't tell you to leave,” his voice suddenly whispers from the doorway.

You snap your gaze over to him and yank your hand from between your thighs, your heart racing at the intrusion.

He steps into your room and shuts the door softly behind himself, his eyes dark and his cock straining in his pants.

“M-my dad-”

“Is asleep. Knocked on his ass from all that beer. It’s just you and me, babygirl. And I plan on finishing what we started.”

You swallow hard and scoot back on your bed as he approaches, his eyes focused on your face.

“Now, someone was a bad girl and left before I told her she could. Do you have anything you wanna say for yourself?” His hand comes up to hold your face, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes wide and focused on his.

He nods, eyeing you closely, and then he pushes your mouth open further and spits in it.

“I don’t think you are, not yet. But you will be. I’m gonna show you what happens when you don’t let me have what’s mine.”

#bucky x reader #dbf!bucky x reader #dads best friend!bucky x reader #bucky x young!reader #bucky x innocent!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky smut #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky x reader lemon #bucky/reader lemon #lemon #smut #marvel smut

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: I do what I want!

Lemon: I’m calling y/n.

Tangerine: No, wait—

#tangerine #tangerine fic #lemon and tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fluff #tangerine x reader #tangerine x assassin reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x oc #tangerine x plus size reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine incorrect quotes #tangerine icons #tangerine imagine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train icons #bullet train smut #bucky barnes imagine #bullet train movie #bullet train headcanons #bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train incorrect quotes

[moonlight1030]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝑌𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

#smut #lemon #18+ content #alastor x reader #katsuki x reader #mysterion x reader #bucky barnes x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #inumaki x reader #sukuna x reader #SoundCloud

[skylarinfinity]

God… giving (AGED UP) Peter, Steve, Bucky, and tony the BEST head of their lives (as a male reader)

author notes so uh this is not a smut more like their reaction after that, i want to write full smut but english not my first language so it's hard to write full story even for incorrect quotes i have make so many grammar mistakes so yeah... hope this okay?

peter: [blushing hard] um- uh thank you?

m/n: [snort] you're welcome?

peter: [blushing harder] if you want i can try do the same for you?

m/n: [smile and shake his head] oh not yet, i'm not finish with you yet [wink]

.

.

.

steve: [panting] that- that was amazing...

m/n: [lick his lip] well thank you-

steve: [kiss m/n] do you want to me repay?

m/n: [shrugs] is okay if you don't want to-

steve: [whisper] i want to but you need to guide me~

m/n: [smirking and whisper to steve ear] get on your knees babe~

.

.

.

bucky: fuck [keep repeating the same word over and over again]

m/n: [stand up and go to the bathroom] is that good enough for you?

bucky: [still in daze] that- that's the best sex i ever had in my life...

m/n: [leaning against the bathroom door] if you call me giving you a head “sex” than oh boy this is going to be exciting! [toss couple condom to bucky]

.

.

.

tony: [grinning like an idiot] fuck! that the best one you ever do yet-

m/n: [in serious tone] get on all four and arse up now.

tony: [panicking] wait what? i thought- i'm the top for tonight?

m/n: it's either you listen to me or i stop no-

tony: [immediately got in all four] please don't stop...

m/n: [smirking] good boy, don't worry you get to have your fun after this one [kiss tony head] i promise.

another author notes

1. i always see m/n as a switch, dom bottom and top so don't expect me to do bottom behaviour so much...

2. i thinking put all the requests on the queue like the rest incorrect quotes so it's make my life a bit easier (i have queue until 29 july) so if your request not come up yet because i put it on the queue...

3. if you want me to tag you just comment or dm me but it will not update until 29 july because i already have blogs on queue and i don't really want to go edit all the blog's just to added new tag 🤷🏼

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket

#male reader #malereader #male y/n #incorrect male reader #incorrect quotes male reader #male reader incorrect quotes #male reader insert #male reader imagine #male reader marvel #marvel x male reader #male reader smut #male reader lemon #xmale reader #x male reader #x male y/n #x male!reader #male!y/n #male!reader #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect quotes marvel #marvel incorrect quotes #mcu incorrect quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel #mcu

[fictionallyonline]

@kpopgirlbtssvt here!

I made a side blog hehe 🥰🥰 I don’t know what I’ll use it for yet, but I thought “fictionally online” would be cute because, you know, I’m “chronically online”😂😂😂

@thebearer @gh0stsp1d3r @little-miss-dilf-lover @padfootdaredmetoo @mrsmaeberzatto

#vigilante #adrian chase #peacemaker #wonka x reader #timothee imagine #the bear hulu #adrian chase x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #tangerine x reader #bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train lemon #bucky x reader #Carmy

[swtki]

Hey all! I’m opening up requests to help me out of a writing slump!

Please send me requests, these are the guidelines I have:

My readers are ALWAYS inclusive 100% in fluff, this means GN, race neutral, and size neutral.

My smuts are inclusive to all Fems, meaning I only use she/her pronouns and afab anatomy, however race, and size are neutral.

I will be creating a rec post for Trans! readers, black! readers, cis male readers, any type of specific reader soon <3

Characters I will write for:

-Loki Laufeyson

-Bucky Barnes

- Steve Rogers

- TASM! Peter Parker

- Spencer Reid

Please do not ask for any other characters or any ships other than x reader.

Things I will write:

-smut (fem dom or vanilla)

-fluff (any and all)

-angst (past trauma, current trauma, breakups and heartbreak)

-dark fics (stalking, perv)

start sending them babes !

#elitalksshit #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker fanfic #peter parker smut #loki x reader #loki fic #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes lemon #bucky barnes smut #sub steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #sub spencer reid #mcu songfic #tasm #fanfic #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #avengers fanfix #avengers x fem!reader #avengers loki x reader #the avengers x you #the avengers smut #avengers x reader

[xchumonxinxchainsx]

You Saved Me..

This is something I wrote way back when Civil War first came out. I basically came home from the theater and wrote this. Bucky is my boi.💚🖤💜

Buckyx!femReader Lemon aka smutty sex stuff.

But also sweet lovey stuff.

Only real warning for this I can think of is slight dealings with trauma etc. If there is anything else feel free to point it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the living area of Avenger tower deep in thoutght. It was around 11 pm and everyone had gotten back from a big mission and went straight to bed. All except you that is. Much like Tony had experienced post trauma panic attacks after New York, you had begun getting bouts of anxiety after said Iron Man's fight with Bucky and Steve. It had been about a month since then, you had managed to pull some strings with another certain group of heroes to have most of the governmental officials who were involved in the Accords memories wiped. Tony was reluctant to continue as they were after everything that had happened but you managed to convince him it was the best thing for everyone involved.

 Now if only you could shake the memories of the fight. It kept replaying in you head over and over to the point where it brought tears to your eyes. When Steve had hone after Bucky you had gone along with him and Sam. From what he said you knew there was more to Bucky than a killer Soldier, and that was later confirmed when you met him. By the time you made it to the other soldiers you had fallen head over heals for the broken Bucky Barnes. As you all stood in the empty room awaiting your fate he looked at you with pain in his eyes as if he thought none of you would come out of this alive.

"Thank you for believing in me."

His words echoed through your mind as you remembered Tony seeing his parents die and how his rage turned him into a killer with only one thing on his mind. Bucky. You were good friends with Tony and hated seeing him lust for the blood of the man you cared so much for. This war was tearing you apart inside and out. Tony looked in your eyes and all you could see was pure vengeance.

"_____...."

You stood firm.

"You can't defend him from me."

You took a sharp breath in. Your voice broke as you looked up at him.

"I can Tony. And I Will."

Although your voice shook with pain you had never been more sure of anything in your life. The fight raged through your head like a tornado tearing at every shred of emotion you had threatening to pull all your fears back from the hole you kept trying to bury them in. You finally remembered the moment that ended it. Tony had beaten Steve down to a bloody mess on the floor panting for breath. Bucky's arm had been ripped off and he too was covered in blood. You were beaten pretty bad as you struggled to lift your head. You heard Tony charge his hand blaster as you saw it aimed right at Bucky. Everything was in slow motion as adrenaline shot through your body. You screamed at the top of your lungs as you surged with energy. You leaped up and dashed toward Bucky firmly launching yourself between him and Tony. You heard Tony gasp.and quickly push his own arm away to avoid you. You knelt in front of Bucky holding his head tenderly to your collarbone. You were shaking from adrenaline and pain and let out sobs of fear at the thought of losing him. Tony just stared at the back of your head realising your true feelings for the Winter Soldier. This gave Steve the opportunity to get the jump on him and break the arc reactor in his suit. Bucky relaxed slowly in your grasp suddenly feeling extremely weak. You looked to Steve as Bucky slouched onto you panting. He was breathing hard as he stood up waking to you. The two of you hoisted Bucky to his feet and helped walk him out. You briefly looked back to Tony only to see him struggle to sit up. He looked you dead in the eye. You winced before turning back to where you were going.

As you turned to your side on the couch you clutched a blanket around you tightly feeling all the pangs of fear you did that night all over again. You were glad that Tony had accepted Bucky at least for the most part since he was getting therapy now. But you couldn't help but feel like things would never be normal again.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn't noticed Bucky enter the room. His deprogramming had run late that night and he had just stopped down for a snack before bed. That is until he saw you. He too had not been able to get the fight out of his head. He remembered how gently you had held him and how you had without a second thought risked your own life for his.

He quietly walked toward the couch thinking you were sleeping.

"______...."

He whispered seeing the tears falling down your face.

"What's wrong?"

You shot up and wiped your eyes sniffing steadily. You hadn't had much chance to talk to him in the past month. Things had been so crazy that you hadn't even noticed he had his arm replaced.

"Bucky......nothing....I just, I have been having a lot of anxiety lately that's all..."

His brow furrowed. He wasn't exactly the consoling type, but he thought he owed you enough to try.

"Oh uh....what about?"

He slowly sat down next to you as you bundled the blanket up in front of you.

"Well...I...."

You looked at his face. He seemed genuinely concerned so you took a deep breath and continued.

"I just keep seeing the fight with Tony....over and over....every time I sleep, every time I have any down time....I keep seeing him so filled with rage....and not being strong enough to stop him....and I just....I see him now...even though he's accepted you, he still thinks you could snap at any moment and I know hes.just waiting for it to happen so he can have an excuse to attack you again and I just don't think I can stand it a second time!!"

As you talked your voice rose and by the time you had finished you were in hysterical sobs. He looked down slowly. He hadn't realised just how much you cared about him, and how much fear you had that something should happen to him. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just looked at you before slowly inching closer and pulling you into a tight hug. The cold sting of his metal arm on your skin made you gasp. You felt it coil around you and you couldn't believe how lifelike it felt. It was almost as if you felt the metal flexing like real muscle. You'd have to tell Bruce how impressed you were with his repair job later. His warm presence soothed you and your sobbing slowed to sniffling again. You could hear his heart beat as your face was pressed against his muscled chest. As you relaxed more and more you felt him almost purr as he squeezed you a bit tighter. Your face reddened. Could he care for you too? You gently pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes. He looked very tired, and his eyes called for something. He let his metal hand run down your back softly sending a shiver up your spine.

"______....."

You didn't move a muscle. Was this really happening? You held your breath waiting for him to continue.

"You saved my life a month ago...why?"

You hadn't expected that.

"W-well....I...."

You choked out. His lonely eyes searched you for the answer. You felt your face flush and heat go all over your body.

"I...I really care about you Bucky....I don't want anyone to hurt you...."

You looked down at your hands which were now fidgeting on your lap. His hand was still resting on your lower back and he was half laying down letting his shirt ride up just slightly so you could see his abs just a bit. Your eyes darted back and forth from them to your hands as you waited for him to respond.

"Why?"

He asked again. This was really starting to make you nervous. You didn't care why you loved him, you just did! Why did he have to make you explain it?! How embarrassing! Your mind raced before you gathered what little courage you had left to speak.

"Because....all those things you did....they weren't you. You would never hurt innocent people on your own...."

You looked up at him as you searched for words.

"You're worth everything to me Bucky..."

You turned away from him too embarrassed to look at him any more. He sat in silence for a few moment before sitting up again and pulling you to face him. He place his large hands on either side of your face and looked in your eyes

"Thank you......you mean everything to me too ______, you and Steve are all I have in this world. You're the only ones who believe in me."

You're heart exploded. You couldn't believe your ears.

"Bucky...."

You breathe before he leans slowly forward and gently kisses you. You take in a sharp breath as his hot soft lips press against yours. Your arms leap to his chest feeling his hard muscles as his hand move from your face to your back pulling you into a tight embrace. You let your hands travel up his chest to his neck and into his hair running your fingers through it softly tugging as you go. You hear a deep growl echo through you as his hands trace every part of you. You break the kiss slowly trying to catch your breath. Bucky grunts softly as he replaces his lips on your neck gently biting as he goes. You let out a gasp still not fully accepting that this is real. You can't do anything but let it happen as your mind is focused on nothing else in this moment than Bucky Barnes.

He slides his metal hand under your shirt and you shiver as the cold high tech machine glides across your skin. Bucky whispers in your ear as he unhooks your bra.

"_______.....you don't know how long it's been since I felt a woman's touch....."

You let out an unintentional moan as you felt his breath on your skin.

"About 70 years...?"

You breathe out with a smile as your hands trace back down to his chest pulling at the edge of his shirt. Bucky chuckles as he pulls your shirt and bra off at once, then his own. He lowers you back onto the couch tossing the blanket on the floor.

"Do you have any idea what that does to a man?"

He asks huskily as he plants kisses down your neck to your chest. You sigh in delight at his touch as he sucks each if your breasts tenderly.

"I can only imagine how pent up you must be...."

You sigh letting out a sharp gasp as he kisses lower down your stomach. He stops and pulls your pants down to run his hands over your bare skin. The contrast of temperature in his left and right hands gives you a most enjoyable sensation as you moan softly relishing in his touch. You look up at him and see lust filled eyes that are eating you up with every second he looks you over. He can't seems to stop touching you. Suddenly you had an idea. You wanted to do something special for Bucky. After everything he had been through, and to show you really did love him. You took his hands softly and moved them off you. He grunted in protest but you sat up slowly and placed your hands on his chest.

"Don't worry....trust me...."

You breathe as you gently push him back so he's now lying under you. His hands quickly return to your sides as he can't seem to keep them away. You slowly Kis down his neck and a cross his collarbone noting the places that make him softly grunt as you go. You move painstakingly slow wanting this to last as long as possible. Bucky seemed to be lost in it. His eyes were closed and his breathing was getting faster as you went. You made it to the skin where his metal arm connected and his breath hitched as you touched it. Aha! You thought. Of course the area was probably sensitive. You gently ran your fingers around it and onto the cool flexing metal of his prosthetic. He groaned deeply gripping your hair in one hand and your rear in the other. He had a firm hold on you but it didn't stop you from continuing. From his arm your fingers danced down his torso and across his fine abs. You delighted in the reaction you were getting as he twitched and groaned under you. Finally he was getting impatient.

"______....please....you're killing me...."

He said as you played with his waistband. You giggled loving his tortured moans. But he was right. You wanted him just as badly and you knew you couldn't stand much more teasing yourself. You ran your hand across the substantial bulge now fully formed in his constricting pants. He groaned deeply at the touch and ground his hips up to you. You smiled biting your lip as you undid his pants and pulled them and his underwear off revealing his large manhood. You were almost entranced by it before you slowly leaned down taking it in your mouth. Bucky grunted loudly as he took hold of your hair once again pushing your face down farther till you were almost choking. You stayed that way for a moment trying not to gag before pulling slowly back up and starting to bob your head in a slow rhythm. He thrusted up to meet you every time grunting and growling feverishly.

"Mmmm fuck _______!"

He groaned as you wrapped one hand around it to make sure his full length was covered. He propped himself up on his metal arm while he used his other hand to push your hair back out of your face letting it rest behind your head. He watched you work him sending him even more jolts of pleasure. Suddenly he let out an almost inhuman growl pushing you back on the couch and off him. You looked dazed and confused for a moment before he covered you with himself. He to hold of both your hands pinning them above your head in his metal hand. You gasped as you saw the fire in his eyes. He quickly lined himself up and pushed into you with little warning. You let out a shocked moan as he began pounding into you with no warning. You writhed around under him able to do nothing but wrap your legs around him holding on for deal life. He landed down so his face was next to yours grunting in you ear mixing in a few fuck yeahs here and there. Your spine tingled as you heard and felt him all around you. The pressure on your abdomen began to rise rapidly. You couldn't control it, or anything for that matter you moaned loudly squeezing your legs as tight around him as you could.

"Oh god Bucky!! I'm--!!"

You couldn't even get out the words before he had you moaning again.

"Yeah, you fuckin' like that huh?"

His voice was deep and gravely. He sounded like he really had been pent up for 70 years. It drove you crazy.

"Yes Bucky! Fuck me hard! I want all of you!"

You were so close to your climax as he moved his other hand to your face letting his fingers fall into your mouth.

"Yeah, fuck.....say my name. Who do you want fucking you senseless?"

"Bucky!"

"Louder!"

"BUCKY!!!"

"FFFF--!!!"

You both came hard at the same time clutching each other as tightly as you could. He twitched and growled into your ear as you let out a deep sigh of relief. As you rode it out he let your hands go and you both had your arms around each other in seconds. You panted almost dizzy from the experience. After a few minutes Bucky pulled out of you reaching for the blanket that was discarded on the floor. He pulled it over the two of you not caring that you were both naked in the living room. He didn't want to move. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your forehead.

"I love you _______ _______."

You sigh in content and bury your face in his chest.

"I love you too Bucky Barnes."

~~~♡♡♡Extended ending♡♡♡~~~

Tony yawned tiredly. He had been up late because of some bizarre bumping sound. He imagined Bruce had been up late working on something. Either way he was not in a good mood. He wandered into the living area to get to the kitchen and make himself some coffee when he stopped in his tracks. Moments earlier you and Bucky had woken up and we're currently making out on the couch, still nude. Tony could barely contain himself.

"What the hell is this!?"

You and Bucky jumped at the sharp sound. Bucky pulled the blanket up to cover your chest grinning crookedly. Your face flushed bright red.

"TONY!!! GET OUT!!"

"It's MY living room!! And MY couch!! Which I now need to sanitize with gasoline and fire!!"

"FUCK OFF TONY GOD! JUST GET OUT! OUTOUTOUT!!!!"

You yell as you start throwing clothes at him. He takes the hint that you want to get dressed and he runs into the kitchen with his hands in the air.

"Alright alright!! Damn it _____! You're such a pain in my ass!!"

Bucky laughed heartily at the scene and your pouty face.

"Dumb jerk..."

You mumble. You and Tony were still close friends but ever since you saved Bucky from him he had been treating you more like a little sister than a friend.

Bucky pulled his pants on as he handed you your clothes.

"You tell him _____, it's our couch now!"

Bucky called toward the kitchen earning a loud exasperated growl from Tony.

The two of you laugh again as you dress. When you were done he pulled you into a tight hug.

"I guess we should tell Steve huh?"

You say tracing his lips with your finger.

"Oh I think I figured it out for myself."

You both turned shocked to the door to see Steve smirking.

"I was wondering how long it would take you two to finally get together."

 

~~~~~~The End ♡~~~~~~

#marvel #bucky barnes #reader insert #lemon fic #18+ content #winter soldier #tony stark

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

tag list <3

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#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader angst #Honey Girl #bucky barnes angst #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dad's best friend bucky barnes #soulmate au #soulmate!au #soulmate!bucky barnes #soulmate!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky barnes

[nastybuckybarnes]

Comfortable

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky finds out that you’ve never climaxed during intimacy and he’s not happy about that.

Warnings: Smut, Crying during sex, Overstimulation (mental and physical), Language, Fluff, Minor Angst but not really

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Kinda based on life but without bucky coming in and setting things straight lol. I’ve also got the first like 5 parts of a new series written, so that’ll be coming soon hehe. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and I love you all very much! 

~*~

“I don’t know, Nat, I just... I guess I’m just never... I don’t know. I’m in my head a lot, I guess.”

The redhead snickers, elbowing her sister and sharing a look with her before both of their gazes return to yours.

“Barnes lacking?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to clear his name.

“No! No, God no! He just... it’s not him, it’s me. I think too much, I’m focused on making sure it’s good for him, making sure he finishes that I... I don’t know.”

Yelena purses her lips, “does he know he hasn’t made you cum yet?”

You swallow hard and shake your head, dropping your gaze to your lap.

“I... I fake it.”

The assassins exchange glances again and you huff a sigh.

“He’s good, he’s really good and he makes me feel good and I get close but... I just can’t... I can’t cum. And it’s not like it’s just him, I’ve never cum with anybody I’ve been with. I just... can’t do it. Maybe I’m broken,” you whisper that last part mostly to yourself, but both women jump in and shake their heads.

“It’s an intimate thing. You probably just want to feel one hundred percent comfortable with the person before giving that last bit of yourself to them. Orgasming with a partner for the first time is... intense. You should talk to him about it, tell him the truth and explain it. Maybe you guys need more foreplay, maybe you need to be in control more, but you’ll only figure it out by talking to him about it.”

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head at Natasha, “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings though, Nat. I just... how the hell do I gently tell him that he hasn’t made me cum and I've been faking it the whole time?”

Two sets of trained eyes dart over your shoulder just as you hear the door to your apartment shut.

Tension pulls your shoulders up and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he didn’t hear you.

The way the two Russians in front of you press their lips into thin lines gives you your answer, and you drop your head forward, hating the fact that this is now a conversation you need to have with your boyfriend.

“Well uh, I think we should take that as our cue to leave,” Yelena says awkwardly, pressing on a smile and offering Bucky a small wave as she rises to her feet, Natasha following after.

You stay rooted in place on the couch, refusing to even acknowledge his presence as he putters about in the kitchen, waiting until your friends leave before finally making his way into the living room.

Your eyes don’t leave your hands as he takes a seat on the floor in front of you, his hands, one cold and one warm, finding yours and squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to take deep breaths.

If you were to look at him, you’d see that his face is confused, not angry. Not a hint of anger could be found within him. If anything, he’s upset that you hadn’t told him before. That you didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him and telling him the truth.

The entire time he was under the impression that you were enjoying the sex and getting just as much out of it as he was.

“Why are you apologizing, sweet girl?”

You sniffle and shake your head, fear icing your veins.

You don’t want him to be mad at you and you don’t want him to feel offended.

“I just... I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and reaches one hand up to cup your jaw, raising your head enough so that you finally, finally look into his eyes.

Your beautiful eyes are filled with tears and it makes his heart ache in his chest.

“Why the tears, honey, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head and sniffle, dropping your gaze only to raise it when he squeezes your chin.

“C’mon, sweet girl, you can talk to me. I... I don’t want you to ever be afraid to talk to me, okay? What’s got you so upset?”

You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, trying to muster up your courage.

“I just... I don’t want to make you mad.”

He furrows his brows and shakes his head, absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that you think he’d be mad at you for being honest.

“Why would I ever be mad, baby? If you’re upset, I wanna know what I can do to make you feel better.”

You take another deep breath then slowly nod.

“I just... I know that sex is a sensitive topic for a lot of guys. Especially... their performance. And yours is great! The sex is great and I love it and you’re amazing! I just... I haven’t... ya’know. I never have with anyone else either. I’m starting to think that I can only do it by myself,” you whisper glumly, your shoulders sinking in.

Bucky is quiet for a moment. He’d already heard every word you’d spoken to Natasha and Yelena, and, he’s not gonna lie, it punches at his pride to know that his girl isn't enjoying it as much as he is. All he wants is for you to feel your best in every aspect of life.

“Well, why don’t we talk about this a bit more, huh? You said that it’s not just me, but everyone you’ve been with?”

He knows this isn’t about him, it’s about you, but he really hopes that you’re not trying to soften the blow. If other people have made you cum, he wants to know how and when and then he wants to cut their fingers off for ever touching you.

You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I just... I don’t know if I get in my head too much or if I’m... not comfortable enough, but I just... I can’t.”

He nods slowly, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out a solution.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable, honey?”

You shake your head and push to your feet, hating every word of this conversation.

“I am comfortable with you, Buck. I just... forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

His long fingers wind around your wrist, stopping you from fleeing like you so desperately want to.

“It does matter, honey. It matters a lot, actually. I’m not mad and I’m not offended. I just... I want you to feel the same intimacy that I feel when we have sex. It’s... amazing. And I want you to experience it. So tell me how I can make you feel better.”

Your glossy eyes raise to his and, when you see nothing but honesty and love, you nod slowly.

“I don’t know what’s missing or what needs to happen. You’ve got me really close, but I just.. maybe I think about it too much? I don’t know.”

He cups your cheeks and presses the softest kiss to your forehead.

“You’re gonna need to direct me, baby. Next time, you’re gonna need to tell me what you like, what feels good, okay? And when you get close, you tell me and I’m gonna keep going until you actually cum, is that all right?”

You nod again.

“Okay.”

He kisses your lips gently then pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Okay.”

~*~

The next time the opportunity to be intimate arises, it’s after a small get-together at Yelena’s place.

You’ve already had a sizeable glass of wine, and now all you want is your boyfriend’s hands on your body.

He pushes open the door to your shared apartment, a grin on his lips as you pepper kisses along his jawline.

“Hey, sweetheart. You want something? Hmm?”

You nod, lips not leaving his skin as you push his jacket off of his shoulders.

“C’mere.” His metal arm dips beneath your thighs, hoisting you up, while his flesh arm wraps around your waist, keeping you held tightly against his chest as you wrap your legs around him.

He leads the two of you through the apartment and into the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling away to pull his shirt off.

You shimmy out of your dress and toss it to the ground, leaving you only in your matching black lace set.

Bucky’s eyes devour your figure and he’s quick to shed his pants and join you on the bed, crawling between your legs and smoothing his hands over your thighs.

“How you feelin’, pretty girl? You okay?”

You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on the planet.

And to him, you might as well be.

“You gonna let me eat you out, baby? Please?”

How could you possibly say no to that?

When you nod at him, he grins, beyond pleased, and slides his fingers beneath the fabric on your hips.

He pulls your panties down your legs and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze while taking a deep breath through his nose.

“Fuck, you smell good. Taste even better, though.” And with that, he situates himself between your thighs and flattens his tongue against you, licking you from your dripping hole up to your throbbing clit.

You sigh happily, fingers tangling through his hair as he works his tongue over your clit and dips two fingers into your heat.

“Just like that...” you whisper, your head digging into the pillows as he plays you like a fiddle.

He continues fucking his fingers into you, pausing when you give a particularly hard tug on his hair then repeating exactly what made you do that.

You can feel it slowly building, each pass of his tongue and thrust of his fingers brings you slightly closer, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race.

“Fuck... just like that, Bucky...”

He follows your instructions perfectly, doing exactly what makes you feel good.

He watches your face scrunch, feels your heels dig into his back and your nails scratch at his scalp and - Goddamn is this what he was missing out on? This is what you look like when you’re really about to cum?

It takes all of his self-control to not grab his phone and take a picture of you.

Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and your eyes are squeezed shut as your walls start fluttering around his fingers.

Fuck, you look gorgeous.

It’s such a strange feeling, having him bring you closer and closer to the edge. It’s so foreign yet so right and you tug at his hair and roll your hips up to his face.

“Bucky, I... I’m gonna.... oh fuck, please... I’m gonna cum, please!”

God, hearing that is like music to his ears.

He continues, bringing his free hand up to yours when you reach for it.

You interlock your fingers and grind your teeth together as your release washes over you, far more intense than anything you’ve ever been able to bring yourself.

A sound that’s half-moan half-gasp falls from your lips and you squeeze his hand harder while your walls clamp down around his fingers.

Bliss fills you, sparks flying from every nerve in your body, head to toe, and Bucky watches in awe.

He’s not sure how he believed you before when you were faking. The way you look when you cum is something he’s never going to be able to forget now.

Your body is wound so tight, your thighs clenched around his head and your nails digging into his scalp. Your walls are pulsing and clenching and, fuck, it feels incredible. He can’t wait to feel it around his cock.

He continues slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you while working his tongue over your clit, only pulling away when you tug your hips back.

He smacks his lips together and pulls away, his eyes connecting with yours.

Your chest heaves and your forehead has a light sheen of sweat on it, and you look like the Goddess you are.

“How you feel, baby?” He asks gently, smoothing his hands up your sides and rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of your stomach.

You only nod at him, your hands coming to rest on his wrists.

“Words, baby. I need words.”

You lick your lips and take a deep breath before speaking.

“I feel good, Buck. I-I feel really good,” you whisper, eyes prickling with tears at the intensity of the moment.

He smiles lovingly down at you and leans in for a gentle kiss.

You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes the moment even more erotic.

“Gonna let me fuck you, baby?” He asks against your mouth, trailing his lips down your neck and kissing your skin gently.

You nod, sighing softly as tears trail back into your hairline.

He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to situate himself comfortably between your thighs and align himself with your entrance.

And then he’s pushing into you slowly, making you feel every single inch of it.

Your mouth drops open and your legs wind around his hips, pulling him even deeper than before. He’s pressing against every sensitive spot inside you and it feels heavenly.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby. Feel so good... God... nice n’ tight... wet... shit you’re like heaven.” He rasps the words against your throat, lips trailing up over your skin to rest on yours for a quick moment before he pulls back to gaze into your eyes.

“I love you, pretty girl. I really do.”

Your heart swells and you lean up to kiss him, gasping against his lips when he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.

He starts a steady pace, smoothing one of his hands over yours and interlocking your fingers.

“I wanna feel you cum for me again. Wanna feel it on my cock, baby. God, you look so pretty when you cum. Wanna take a picture of it and frame it, I swear.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine softly, arching your back and groaning when he hits deeper inside of you at the new angle.

“Right there... oh fuck, please...”

He buries his head in your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses while his free hand travels between your bodies to find your clit.

He circles the bundle of nerves with expert precision, lifting his lips to yours to swallow your moans.

You’re barely kissing. No, it’s more of just breathing each other’s breaths and moaning in each other’s mouths, but the intimacy is unmatched and the passion is flaming through your soul.

You wind your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to press more of his weight against you, and you can’t help but feel more secure and more comfortable.

“I... Bucky... I’m gonna... oh fuck.”

He nods, showering your face in kisses.

“Cum for me, honey. C’mon, please. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You can’t very well deny him when he’s asking you so nicely.

His fingers move against your clit faster and faster while his hips continue grinding into yours firmly, making your toes curl and your back arch further.

Your chest presses against his and you rake your nails against his back so hard you're sure you’re drawing blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Not when you’re falling headfirst into the most intense and powerful climax of your life.

Your vision goes white and your ears start to ring, and all you can do is squeeze around him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, your nails dig into his flesh, and your walls clamp down around his cock as fireworks erupt in your belly.

Bucky fucks you through it, keeping his pace steady as you tremble and convulse beneath him, your mouth open as soft whines fall from it.

God, the feeling of you, all hot and tight and wet around him... he’s ready to die happily now that he’s gotten to truly experience the glory that is having you cum around him.

His pride swells and he can't help the way his ego inflates when he pulls his head back to look at your pretty face.

He did that.

He made you feel that good.

He’s the only man, no, the only person in the world besides yourself that’s ever made you cum. And he’s going to be the only one.

And now that he knows how to do it, now that he's gotten you there with his mouth and his cock, he’s never going to get enough of it. He’s gotta make up for lost time, doesn't he?

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky/reader smut #bucky x you #bucky x reader lemon #bucky x you smut #Bucky Barnes smut #marvel smut #Steve rogers #yelena belova #Natasha romanoff #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female!reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #reader insert

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Self harm.

Word Count: 2k

Previously On...: I can't even. Betrayal. Just, ultimate betrayal.

A/N: And we are back to our regularly scheduled programming! Nola was great! I had Lavender-Lemon beignets at Ruby Slipper Cafe, and holy shit! They were heaven on earth! 10/10, would eat again!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“Pocket! Oh my God, Pocket!” A concerned voice broke through your haze. You hadn’t even realized you were curled up into the corner of your shower until Wanda stepped forward, turning off the now ice-cold water and was crouched down before you, wrapping you in an oversized towel sheet. “Honey, what have you done to yourself?”

She gently padded at your skin, the soft white cloth coming away spotted with your blood where it had touched open wounds.

“I’m fine, Wands,” you muttered through chattering teeth, your entire body trembling against the freezing tile. “I’m fine. You don’t need to be here.”

“Like hell you are,” she retorted, her usual calm demeanor shattered at the sight of you. “You’re hurting yourself.” You felt her cool, slim fingertips trace gently over the lines of your harshly scrubbed welts. “Honey, what happened? Why would you do this to yourself?” Her gaze flicked around the bathroom: your discarded robe, the streaks of bloody water slowly circling down the shower drain, your ruined skin under her hand. She gingerly removed her fingers from your arm and you instantly missed their warmth. “What did Barnes do?”

All you could do was shake your head as you shivered.

The look Wanda gave you was brutal in its pity. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, enveloping your body into a fierce hug. At the contact, the last of your defenses broke, and your sobbing began again, a tidal wave of pain rushing through you as you clutched her to you.

When your sobs had subsided, Wanda pulled back from you, putting your face in her hands. “Can you get up, sweetie? We need to get you off this floor or you're going to freeze.”

You nodded, and with her assistance, managed to stand. Once you had yourself steady on your feet, Wanda’s hands began to glow red. “I just need to get you warm, okay?” she asked. When you nodded, she let her magic flow around you, and you felt your skin warm and dry, and your towel turned into a long, plush bathrobe. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” she asked you hopefully as she led you back into the main room and deposited you gently in the corner of your couch. All you could do was feebly nod in return.

“I think we’re going to need some reinforcements,” Wanda said as she pulled out her phone, sending out a quick text. “Now, you just rest here and I’m going to start cleaning up the bathroom, okay?”

Before she could walk away, you reached out and grabbed her arm. “How did you know to come in here, Wands?” you asked. “How’d you know I needed you?”

She cast you a soft smile. “Bucky called me. Told me you’d had a fight, that he’d really fucked up and asked me to check in on you.”

You nodded. At least he was capable of doing something right.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked gently. You shook your head, but took her hands and put them to the sides of your head, giving her unspoken permission to view the memory directly from your mind.

Wanda looked at you. “Are you sure?” she asked. You nodded, wanting her to understand, but not wanting to have to explain how absolutely betrayed you felt, to relive the pain of it. You felt the familiar warmth enter your temples as Wanda’s fingers began glowing once again. Unlike the last time she had sifted through your memory, this left you feeling hollowed out and empty inside.

“Are you shitting me?” Wanda asked in surprise when she’d finished, her fingers returning to their normal hue. “Is he a fucking moron?!” You couldn’t help but bark out a quick laugh at her response; it was rare for Wanda to ever use profanities, especially in reference to another person, let alone another member of your team, but it was nice to know that you weren’t alone in your assessment of Bucky’s actions.

Before either of you could say anything else, your bedroom door flew open and Natasha came bursting through. “I swear to God, Wanda, this better be a legit emergency, because I was just about to—” She paused at the sight of the two of you sitting facing each other on the couch, expressions forlorn.

“What did I miss?” she asked cautiously.

“Come help me clean the bathroom, Nat, and I’ll explain.” Wanda stood and held out a hand to Natasha. She turned back to look at you. “Rest a little bit. We’ll be right in the other room if you need us,” she said before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Nat cast you a confused look before following Wanda into the en-suite and you sighed heavily. You were exhausted and you couldn’t believe the turn the night had taken. Where were you even going to go from here?

The worst part was, the only person you wanted to talk to was Bucky— not the Bucky who had said those horrible things, who had betrayed you, but the Bucky who had been your best friend, who you had trusted with all the dirty details of your past, who you thought understood you better than anyone else in the world.

Where had he gone, and who was this stranger that had taken his place?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling once again.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Nat shouted from the bathroom. In seconds, she was storming back into the bedroom and out the door. “I am going to kill him,” she muttered to you before leaving, and a few seconds later, you could hear her banging on Bucky’s door across the hall.

“Oh dear,” Wanda said, coming out of the bathroom. “I should have anticipated that reaction from her.” She came to sit beside you as you both listened to the muffled shouting as Nat ripped Bucky a new one.

A wicked smile tugged at Wanda's lips, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, I did warn him. Barnes can't say he didn't see this coming."

You managed a weak chuckle and leaned back against the couch, feeling a little more grounded now, surrounded by your friends' protective wrath. It was oddly comforting, even if all you wanted was to be left alone to deal with your own heartbreak.

"He'll survive," Wanda said dismissively, her fingers absently tracing winding paths in the plush fabric of your robe. Her gaze drifted back to you, her expression softening once more. "The more important question is...how are you doing?"

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. How were you supposed to answer that? You felt like your heart had been ripped open and then stomped on, then fed back to you.

"Better than Barnes," was all you said, eliciting a choked laugh from Wanda.

"That's not much of an achievement, sweetheart."

"I know," you replied softly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "But it's the best I can do right now."

She smoothed your hair. “Would you like me to help you sleep, love?” You nodded, grateful for the assistance she was offering. 

She took a glance at your bed. “Oh,” she said once she saw its stripped state. “Well, that won’t do.” She raised her hands and conjured up a luxurious bed set, with silk scarlet sheets and a downy scarlet duvet. “There,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “That’s much better.”

You looked at your newly transformed bed in awe. “Is that, like, going to disappear at midnight or something?” you asked, transfixed by what you had just seen happen. 

Wanda laughed softly. “I’m a witch, sweetie, not a fairy godmother. It’s permanent. Dry-clean only, but permanent.”

You exhaled, beyond impressed. “If I were you,” you said, awestruck, “I’d be using my powers for all kinds of evil.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Wanda said with a smile. She waved her hand and conjured up a satin scarlet sleep set. “Why don’t you go change and I’ll turn down the sheets?”

You nodded, picking up the night clothes she’d created for you and headed to the bathroom to change. When you came out a moment later, you saw Wanda had conjured herself a matching sleep set. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you alone at a time like this, did you?” she asked. “We’ll make it a slumber party, and Nat’ll get a matching set when she comes back.

“Thank you, Wands,” you said, rushing toward her and embracing her. 

“Of course, sweetie,” she said, patting your hair gently. “That’s what friends are for.”

You held each other for a moment, lost in the comfort Wanda provided. You were so grateful to have friends like her and Nat. 

As if you’d conjured her with your thoughts, the door creaked open and Nat slunk through. She made a face at the sight of the two of you in your matching sleep sets and scowled when Wanda raised a glowing hand, transforming her clothing to match.

“We’re having a slumber party, Natasha,” Wanda said, as if that perfectly explained why she’d given Nat magic pajamas. 

Nat’s expression softened. “Of course we are,” she said, coming over to the two of you and wrapping her arms around you both, effectively sandwiching you between her and Wanda.

“I hope you didn’t physically disable Barnes,” Wanda said. “Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course, but we’re already a man down.”

Nat snorted. “No physical violence needed,” she said, pulling back from the hug. “He’s beating himself up enough as it is.” She turned to you. “I don’t like saying this, because you know how much I hate the way he’s been treating you since Carthage showed up, but he knows how badly he fucked up. I’m not saying you should forgive him– you’re the only one who can make that decision, but once you’ve taken some time to process everything, I think you should talk to him.”

You swallowed and nodded. You couldn’t fathom doing it right now, but you knew you’d have to eventually. 

“That’s a lovely painting,” Wanda said, nodding her head toward where Twilight in the Tropics sat on your desk, and you were grateful for her for changing the topic. “Where did it come from?”

“Looks like a Stark Apology to me,” Nat said, then chuckled when you nodded. 

“Let’s get you to bed, Pocket,” Wanda said. “It’s been a long night and you must be exhausted.”

God, but you were. Every fiber of your body ached as you crawled into bed between Wanda and Nat, the new, magic silk sheets feeling delicious against your skin, and the duvet enveloping you like a cloud.

“Now, about that painting,” Wanda said, raising her hands again. “I think you deserve a little show after everything you’ve been through tonight, don’t you?” As her hands glowed, the lights dimmed and the painting lit up and came to life, as though you were looking through an open window onto the living scene as Frederic Church had painted it in 1874. The moonlight rippled on the water, the wind whispered through the palm fronds, and the sounds of a tropical night filled your room. It was breathtaking. 

“Holy shit,” Nat said in a hushed, revenant voice. 

“Thank you, Wands,” you whispered, squeezing her hand on top of the duvet. “This is amazing."

“Let it lull you to sleep, sweetie,” Wanda said, squeezing your hand back. “Goodnight, Pocket. Good night, Natasha.”

“Night, Wands,” you said, feeling a small smile touch your mouth. “Good night, Natty.”

“Night, Wanda,” Nat said, stifling a yawn. “Night, Pocket. Tomorrow will be better. I promise.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

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[pisupsala]

Follow Me Where I Go

Or how you stopped worrying and learned to love trouble.

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader Part 2 of Are You Going My Way?

Words: 8.5k Warnings: smut, 18+

“Dance with me.”

“No.” 

Bucky towers over you even as he casually leans against the dance hall bar while you sip your drink. You lock eyes with him before looking off the side. His gaze follows your line of vision. Matron is hovering near the dance floor, looking like she just swallowed a lemon. Bucky looks back at you, grinning. He’s standing too close to you, moving even closer when he speaks, leaning toward you as he listens. When he touches you — fleetingly putting his hand on your waist, brushing past you, lightly bumping his hand against yours — you feel that same spark as when he kissed you. 

You’ve never had someone vie for your attention so persistently, so overwhelmingly, so intensely. At moments, you’re not sure if you want to bask in it forever or just fall through the floor from awkwardness. Sometimes, you think Bucky might just enjoy you telling him no, whether because he clearly doesn’t get told no very often or because he can tell everything, but your mouth is saying yes. It’s the most delightful kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

Whatever it is, he is making damn sure you only have eyes for him. 

The singing, the touching, the way Bucky always finds you. His eyes fix on you from across the room, popping up in places where he has no business being as a force of habit now, stealing a kiss the moment he sees an opening. 

Your roommates like to joke that you have Major John Egan on a string. It would certainly appear so. But you know better. If you have him on a string, it’s he who is doing the pulling.

In a sudden rush, airmen crowd the bar. Someone bumps into you, your drink spilling over your sleeve. Yelping, you put it down, but before you can turn around in indignation, Bucky pulls you into him, boxing you in between his strong arms, wedging you between his body and the bar. Safe from the surrounding push but right in his crosshairs. The tip of his nose is brushing along the side of your neck. He nips at your jaw. Bucky revels in hearing the small, quivering sigh, your hand gripping the edge of the bar so hard it’s turning your knuckles white. 

If Bucky has realized one thing about you, it’s that you don’t like breaking rules. It’s like you are not used to it. By all means, you move comfortably and serenely between the constraints of your job, rarely complaining about the rigid rules imposed by the Matron. However, it’s not that you lack an adventurous streak; you just do things on your own terms. He can tease you all he wants, goad you into action, and you will look him straight in the eye — flustered, licking your lips in anticipation, breath shallow — and coldly tell him no. You have the worst poker face but the strongest resolve.

And yet. 

It’s worth it because it makes it all the sweeter when you relent. Like now. Once you are sure you both have blended into the crowd at the bar, you spin around to face Bucky, biting your lip. The grin on his face tells you that he has been waiting for this. You grin back coyly. When you reach for him, cupping his face, he easily allows you to pull him into a searing kiss. The music suddenly sounds far away; the surrounding voices are drowned out — he is in his own little bubble with you. 

When you pull away a fraction, breathless, he eagerly captures your lips again. There are few—too few, in Bucky’s opinion—moments when he gets you like this. When your attention is on him, and only him. When you choose to break out of the neat little mold of an army nurse, you are extraordinarily alluring—from your fiery kiss to your soft, curious hands. It’s exhilarating, it’s addictive. You are only like that for him.

“John,” Your whisper, so tender and clear, cuts through his heated thoughts. Pulling away, you lick your lips—it tastes like Bucky’s smokey whiskey. He pulls you closer again, hands running up your sides.

“One more, Dove,” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Just one?” You giggle, chastely pressing your lips against his. He kisses you slowly, longingly. It makes your insides quake like nothing else when he does this. You thought Bucky was all about fun, but this isn’t fun. You thought he sparked like electricity, but this isn’t a shock to the system. It’s searingly intense in its tenderness and earnestness, leaving you speechless, helplessly clinging to him.  

He doesn’t grin or smirk at you; he doesn’t bask in his apparent victory — he just holds you like you are the only two people in the room. And at least for a moment, even John Egan has nothing to say.

Someone bumps into Bucky’s elbow, breaking the moment. You smell the pipe smoke. The color drains from your face because you know exactly who just approached the bar next to your romantic display.

“Doctor,” You greet, trying to keep your voice from cracking. Your hands fall from Bucky’s shoulders as if that makes you look any less guilty. You just hope letting go will actually cause you to fall through the floor now. “Nurse,” He replies, all too calmly, nodding at you before signaling the barman for another drink.

“Smokey,” Bucky sounds bored. 

“Major,” 

You look at your shoes, embarrassed, fidgeting with your hands. You wish you could put more space between Bucky and yourself, but there is nowhere for you to move. You are so unused to being in trouble, flustered so quickly that it’s adorable to Bucky. Caught red-handed, you might as well own it. So, instead of stepping back, he tucks you against him so you can hide your face against his chest, kissing the top of your head. A small noise of mortification escapes you.

“I’m not going to give you grief, nurse,” The doctor sounds wonderfully unbothered — he understands there is no regulation, no rule book, or punishment that will keep people, lonely and far away from home, from finding comfort in each other. “Just be sure Matron doesn’t see; you’ll be scrubbing baseboards for the rest of the month.” He adds almost jauntily.

“Yes, Doctor,” Your voice sounds much more confident than you feel, but you make no attempt to move away, content with hiding your face against Bucky’s jacket.

“That said, Bucky.” The doctor pauses to puff on his pipe before looking at the pair of you pointedly. “She’s one of my best. Take care not to get her sent away, will you?”

You hear Bucky's deep rumble of laughter resonate through his chest. It’s such a strangely sweet sensation—you heard his laugh before anyone else did. His fingers move soothingly down your spine.

“I’m quite partial to having her around myself.”

***

It’s one of those nights that if not everyone at the table were dressed in uniforms, you’d forget the circumstances of how you all came to be in a pub in a small town in East Anglia playing an entirely too intense game of Oh, Hell. It’s a Friday night, packed — you are sat snugly at the corner table, between the wall and Bucky, who seems to keep finding excuses to move closer to you. His knee is brushing against your leg; he keeps finding a reason to touch you, he whispers in your ear. You are unsure if Bucky is trying to get at you, your nerves, or the hand of cards that you are holding. 

You are not supposed to be out this late, but you’ve come to find out it’s becoming harder to say no. Sometimes, you have the nagging feeling that your days with Bucky are numbered. It’s like a dark little splotch in the back of your mind — a small, creeping eclipse. You never mention it to Bucky. Speaking it would make it true. 

And it’s so easy to forget when you are around him. The weeks and the days pass in a blur. Your heart soars every time he steps off that plane, every time you hear that bicycle bell after a mission. Every kiss is electric and sparks new depths of your attraction to Bucky.

Trouble was never this sweet or this persistent.

You brush his hand off your leg, again, decidedly not looking at Bucky but keeping your cards close to your chest and talking to Gale and Charles across the table from you. “So, what exactly happened to that narwhal tusk?” 

Gale smiles but doesn’t look up from his cards. He is entirely too cool and level-headed to get distracted from making his play. “I recall unicorns were to blame,” He simply replies before grabbing two matches from the pile. “I bet two.” 

“None for me,” Bucky smoothly puts his cards face down on the table before returning to you. You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face as you chew your lip, trying to weigh the odds — each has five cards. Charles is playing for one. Gale is confident that he’ll win two hands. Bucky is playing for none. Which, in his case, means nothing in terms of whether he drew a good or bad hand. John Egan deals in chaos — he wins as long as everyone else loses. And considering he has a seventy-five-point lead, he’s a deft hand at it.

As he leans into you, you know he’s about to say something to annoy and distract you. So before a word can make it out of his mouth, before that infectious grin wipes you of all rational thought, you gently put your index finger against his lips. It stops him dead in his tracks for a mere second. From the heated look in his eyes, it’s clear this wasn’t a deterrent; it’s fuel on the fire.

“I bet three,” you announce lightly, trying not to look too flustered. Bucky grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips. 

Gale politely pushes three matches your way.

“That’s how you shut him up, then?” Charles jokes. “Any other tricks you’d be willing to share?” The whole table bursts out laughing. You just grin into your wine.

You first notice something is off when a fellow nurse suddenly dashes past and disappears into the men's room. Suddenly, chairs around the room scrape, and a mad scramble of heels is on the wooden floor. Belatedly, you look at the pub's entrance and realize that the Matron just walked in, rollers in her hair, apoplectic. 

“Shit,” You breathe in panic, starting to get up out of your hair, hoping you can hide before Matron sees you, but you are completely stuck between the table, the wall, and Bucky. You freeze — you are going to be in so much trouble. You’re going to be cleaning the whole infirmary. You’ll be redoing the entire inventory. She might transfer you away. 

She might send you home.

Your stomach plummets.

Bucky’s hand, suddenly pushing down on the crown of your head, shocks you out of your paralysis.

“Get down,” He says calmly like this is a completely normal request. As you clearly were not the type to sneak out or break the rules, and all things considered, you have a pretty poor fight-or-flight reaction.

Almost stupidly, you allow him to push you under the table, crouching on your hands and knees in the cramped space between the table legs and the men’s legs. Gale moves his legs out of the way, giving you some space, while Bucky motions you to come closer to him, gently guiding you to kneel between his legs. Above you, the conversation resumes like nothing happened. 

Quietly, you try to find a comfortable position in the small space, taking care not to bump your head against the tabletop. Finally, you settle by leaning your cheek against the inside of Bucky’s knee and resting your hands on his thigh. His muscles flex under your touch, and Bucky shifts slightly in his seat.

The sound of heels marching over the wooden floor is like a death knell.

“Gentlemen,” the Matron says, standing so close to the table that you can see the shoddily repaired ladder on her nylon. “It’s past curfew, and I have several nurses missing from their rooms.” She looks sharply around the table, probably noticing your oddly abandoned seat, slapped-down hand of cards, and half-empty drink.

“No nurses at this table, Captain,” Gale responds coolly — not quite lying. Charles busies himself looking at his cards.

Bucky doesn’t even bother responding, lazily smoking his cigarette. He is currently trying very hard not to think about you kneeling between his legs — your fingers pressing into his muscle, your face so tantalizingly close.

“Are you sure, Major?” Matron presses. “Awful lot of chairs unoccupied in this pub for a Friday night” She trails off as she looks around the room. 

Under the table, you cringe, tightening your grip on Bucky’s leg. She never takes any answer at face value. Your knees are hurting by now, but you don’t dare move with her standing less than a foot away from you.

“That’s Hambone’s.” Crank supplies helpfully.

Several voices call out for Hambone, who you assume must be hanging around somewhere close. Your heart is beating in your throat. Bucky’s leg presses into you as Hambone clambers over the back of the chair. The conversation picks up naturally — they are all pretending like he’s been sitting there all along; that’s his hand on the table. You can’t help but wonder how many times they have pulled this little gambit before or if it’s a side effect of the blind trust forged between the men. No questions asked; just play along.

“White wine, lieutenant?” Matron intones mildly—your breath stocks. You should have really picked a less… obvious drink.

“I like what I like,” Hambone shrugs, downing the glass in one go. He puts the glass down less than gently. “It’s still alcohol.”

Bucky shifts his leg nervously, bumping into your shoulder.

“Major Cleven, Major Egan.” Matron looks down at them sharply, like a teacher about to scold children. Buck remains polite, looking at her as she speaks, while Bucky barely tries to conceal his contempt. “If you happen to see any of my nurses, I expect you to act in your capacity as senior officers and report them to me.”

“And if we don’t?” 

Your nails dig into Bucky’s leg. Shut up.

“Major Egan, you would interfere with Army procedures like that?”

“If we see any stray nurses around,” Buck cuts in before Bucky can reply. “We will be sure to let the Captain know, won’t we, Bucky?”

“Sure,” He agrees curtly. “Goodnight now, Captain.” He dismisses the Matron bluntly, turning his attention back to the card game.

Matron hesitates; you can tell by the uncertain shuffle of her feet. She’s just been dismissed by a superior officer, although she clearly wasn’t done with the conversation. Having her put in her place like that should not bring you joy. It should not give you a warm, fuzzy feeling when you listen to Bucky give an order like that. After an awkward pause, Matron finally bids the table goodnight. You watch her walk away, finally disappearing in the mass of legs near the bar.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, finally shifting on your aching knees with a small groan. Bucky is doing everything in his power to pretend he didn’t hear that. You just hope Matron finishes her round of the pub quickly  — there really is no comfortable position in the cramped space under the table.

Bucky reaches under the table, stroking your cheek. Your heart nearly stops at the loving touch. He never ceases to surprise you with how tender he can be in these small moments — when he allows himself to let all the bluster and the jokes fall by the wayside. You lean into his touch with a sigh. 

“Is it safe yet?” You ask in a small voice.

“Currently,” Bucky glances over his shoulder. “The Captain is looking for you at the bottom of a martini glass.” 

“Bitch,” Your muffled voice sounds so acutely indignant, Bucky inclines his head to look under the table.

You peer up back at him with those big eyes; your lips slightly parted — fuck. He had thought of you in that exact position more than he would like to admit, but seeing you on your knees in front of him like that gives his half-formed fantasies substance. You pout, leaning against his knee again, waiting for the danger to pass. 

Matron has another two rounds. At this rate, she will at least be unable to hear you and your fellow nurses sneak back into the dormitory. The moment Matron walks out the door, the whole pub sighs a collective sigh of relief.   

“Come here, Dove,” Bucky offers his hand to pull you back up. Hambone makes no attempt to vacate your seat. Bucky doesn’t care as he pulls you into his lap despite your protests about losing a good hand. And you drink. 

Instead, he busies himself with brushing the dirt off your bruising knees, his hand dipping under the hem of your skirt for a quick second. You narrow your eyes at him, pushing his hand away.

“You have to be nice to me,” He smiles warmly at you. “I saved you.”

“You almost got me into trouble in the first place,” You retort levelly. “Again,” You add, looking at him sharply.

Bucky’s fingers gently wrap around your chin, pulling your face close to his. “Allow me to remind you, Dove,” His voice is low, warm like melted chocolate as he squeezes your hip — it’s the only thing you can focus on; everything else fades into the background. “You invited this trouble, insisted on it even.” 

“What can I say?” You murmur innocently, refusing to admit that he is technically correct. “Trouble follows me where I go.” 

Between Bucky and sips of his whiskey, your head is spinning as he leads you down the street of the small village. You split off from the rest a while ago. Giggling, you pull him into a dark corner between two buildings. With your arms around his neck, he accepts your eager kisses.

“And you have the audacity to call me trouble,” He comments, laughing as you push him up against the wall.

“I’m only repaying the favor,” You breathe against his lips, nimbly unbuttoning his uniform jacket, desperate to get closer to him. Feeling the definition of Bucky’s chest and how his muscles move through the layers of fabric thrills you. His hands run down your sides, grasping your hips, pulling you closer. Bucky relishes in your gentle voice and the caring touches that come so naturally to you. But he enjoys cracking through that sweet exterior even more, following your feverish lead, the way you unashamedly rub yourself against him, and your unabashed hunger for him. 

“You know what you want so well, Dove,” He encourages you. “I like that about you.” 

“I just want you,” You manage breathlessly between kisses, so lost in the moment, so lost in every touch, not really thinking about what you’re saying. Quickly, Bucky turns you around so your back is against the wall. Sure, he likes you showing him what you want, and whether it’s the whiskey or the tension that has been building all night — this is the most forward you’ve been. And he’ll be damned if he’s not going to make the most of this precious moment, now that he has you like this, all to himself.

Lightly tracing his hand over your leg, he hitches up the hem of your skirt. It bunches up around his wrist as he moves upwards. You are looking at him in anticipation, taking deep breaths to steady yourself, stroking the side of his face softly as you shift your stance, allowing him to move further. 

“Just me?” He rasps. His fingertips lightly graze the fabric of your panties, studying your reaction carefully. 

“Yes,” You keen, rolling your hips against his hand. He thought a lot about the delicious sway of your hips when you walk and how it would feel if you moved against him, wrapped around him, the soft, warm flesh of your thighs pressed against his wrist. There is nothing calculated about your movements, only the intuitive pursuit of pleasure. 

“No one else?” It’s as much possessive as it’s an admission of vulnerability. 

“Of- of course not,” You stutter in confusion, pulling back a fraction. The worry etched on your face melts away the moment Bucky’s fingers slip past the elastic of your panties into your warmth. You are so wet for him already, so sensitive that the smallest touches make your eyes flutter in pleasure.

“Good,” Bucky murmurs against your lips possessively, needing to feel your every gasp and breath. “Because that would break my heart.” 

You don’t think Bucky is joking. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking. It doesn’t feel like he is joking. A too-sincere confession in the heat of the moment like only he could make, leaving you reeling between the physical sensation of his deft fingers and the soul-searing candidness of his words. You would never have imagined that it would be in your power to change anything about the way that Bucky moves through this world, let alone that he would admit to you that you have the capability to break his heart.

“What about me?” The words tumble from your mouth all wrong, jumbled in a stream of strangely disconnected thoughts and lustful moans. Fighting through the amorous haze, you blink up at Bucky, trying to find a way to re-arrange your question into something more coherent. Until a few seconds ago, you were sure you were the only one in danger of heartbreak in this situation. 

“You,” He replies softly, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, as your breath quickens and your stomach feels tight. “Can have anything you ask for.”

***

It’s the waiting that is the worst. When there is nothing left to do or prepare, you just stand there, scrubbed in. Listening. When you hear the faint roar of the airplane engines, you hold your breath and try to count how many you hear on approach. It’s always too few.

After that, within minutes, the doors to the OR will swing open, and the medics will storm in, carrying the worst casualties. The longer you stay at Thorpe Abbots, the more names and faces you recognize on the operating table.

But the agony doesn’t end there.

Inevitably, when you walk out of the OR, you find out who didn’t make it back. Whispers go around about how many parachutes were seen and where they went down. Rarely does someone admit that they couldn’t have made it out. 

The knot of nerves in your stomach has been weighing you down since you got up that sunny morning. It is the oddest feeling, and you cannot figure out what has gotten into you. Your hands shake as you sterilize equipment; lunch looks even more unappetizing than usual. Your Bucky is not flying today; he’s up in London for R&R. He’s coming back tomorrow, but you don’t feel that kind of nervous. It’s not excitement. 

It’s dread.

You don’t mention it to anyone — it would be bad luck. Instead, you stretch your arms and flex your fingers to relieve the tremors. You force down your lunch, chatting with your fellow nurses. You do everything as you do every day, and a mission is flown. 

Standing at attention in the OR, you listen. It’s an eternity before you finally hear the sound of a plane on approach. And then another. 

Nothing.

It's too long of nothing.

For an uncomfortably long time, you just stand there, listening. That couldn’t have been all of them. Surely, the rest must have been delayed. The minutes tick by. Even as the first casualties come in, everyone works in grave silence. But not another plane passes. You look across the operating table at your fellow nurse. She looks ashen under her mask. The doctor won’t even meet your eye.

As the remaining crews — those who did make it back — filter out the interrogation, the whispers start. At dinner, no one is even pretending to eat.

So many crews lost—Major Cleven’s among them. For now, designated MIA.

Your heart aches for every one lost. Your heart aches for Bucky. 

You have no idea how Bucky has taken the news because although you know he’s returned, you have not seen him. Bucky has not sought you out; you haven’t even caught a glimpse of him in passing. It’s like he’s suddenly a ghost — you hear how he moves about the base, how he’s torn into the CO and Air Exec, how he’s torn into Mission Planning — always, everywhere, just around the corner, a shadow in the corner of your eye.

After four days, you’ve had enough. You can’t stand the pitying looks from your roommates anymore. 

Oh, I’m so sorry.

He hasn’t spoken to you yet? 

I saw him near the officer’s club today.

He’ll come to you — I heard he’s flying soon.

He doesn’t get to do this to you, you decide. He doesn’t get to kiss you like that and say all those things to you only to all but disappear. If Bucky won’t come see you, you’ll go find him.

You’re not on duty tonight, but you should take care to look at the part. Matron would be proud of you: hair neatly pinned, not a crease on your seersucker dress, your navy cape and white oxfords spotless. A neatly wrapped brown paper package with a pill bottle prescribed by Doctor Stover. Although, he might not strictly speaking remember signing that prescription of sleeping pills. It’s part means to an end, part because you believe Bucky might actually need them. 

You've observed that Bucky always easily moves through every situation and effortlessly maintains control. It's like he is right where he’s supposed to be, and subsequently, no one really stops him. And if they do, he just blusters past them. That’s the kind of confidence you don’t have, but you better start finding it quickly now if you’re going to pull this off.

You walk with purpose, smiling politely as you greet the officers and servicemen you pass. It’s just coming up to 9 PM on a summer’s evening — the sun has barely set, and everyone is trying to make the most of the rare free hours of sunshine. You make it all the way to the men’s barracks before the officer on duty stops you from entering the building where you are pretty sure Bucky’s room is.

“Anything I can help you with, lieutenant?” The young officer inquiries suspiciously. 

“I’m tasked with delivering this to Major Egan,” Forcing a smile on your face that you hope doesn’t look too artificial, you hold up the small package. 

“Let me take that for you,” he offers, reaching for the package. “Major Egan is in a foul mood; a nice nurse like yourself should not be on the receiving end of that.” 

Chuckling nervously, you snatch the package out of the officer’s reach. “Are you a nurse too, lieutenant?” You blurt out.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Medication can only be distributed by medical personnel,” You recover quickly, your voice pleasant, although the back of your neck is prickling with sweat. “Army procedure — doctor’s orders,” You add chaotically. 

The corner of your mouth is quivering slightly under the pressure of maintaining your smile. The duty officer looks at you strangely before finally shrugging.

“Major Egan’s room is at the end of the hall, to the left.”

Heart pounding, you thank him before entering the building.

As expected, there is no reply when you knock on the door. 

“Bucky?” You try softly. “It’s me.” 

Nothing.

“Bucky?” 

You listen with bated breath for any sign of life on the other side of the door. With shaking hands, irrationally terrified of what you will find, you try to open the door. To your surprise, it clicks open.

Tentatively, you step into the darkened room. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and get your bearings. Bucky is on the bed, half under the covers, lying on his stomach, with one arm propping up his pillow and facing the wall. 

“John?” You venture softly. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t stir. As you step closer, you note his slow, deep breaths—the slow, deep breaths of someone pretending to be asleep. You hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t have come here; he doesn’t want to see you to the point of ignoring you for almost a week. He lost his best friend. He’s lost so many. You understand, but you can’t help but feel the sting of his silence a little.

“I brought you something to help you sleep,” You continue. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, the small brown package feels oddly heavy in your hands. Bucky still doesn’t respond, not even the slightest change to his breathing. 

Extravert, talkative, center of attention, John Egan grieves in stern silence. 

Carefully stepping over Bucky’s boots and clothes, which are strewn across the floor, you place the package on the nightstand next to his bed. He is still stubbornly pretending to sleep. You should go. Bucky doesn’t want to talk to you, and you shouldn’t impose. 

But something doesn’t feel right. Nervously, you rub your fingers over the hem of your woolen mantle. It’s like Bucky’s darkness is radiating from him, sucking all the air from the room. In your heart, you understand that he shouldn’t be alone.

After unclipping your mantle, folding it, and placing it on the ground, you gingerly sit down on the edge of the narrow bed. There is still no reaction, although at this point, you don't expect anything from Bucky. You just want him to know you are here. Leaning over him, soothingly brushing your fingers over his temple, you notice that his stormy blue eyes are open, firmly fixed on the wall. It’s not the only thing you see, even in the room's darkness.

“Di-” Did someone punch you in the face? The words die on your tongue. You retract your hand to stop yourself poking at the bruise. 

He is so stubborn — eyes open, pretending to sleep. Bruise on his face, not a blink. It’s clear Bucky doesn’t want you to do anything for him. You are not here to play nurse to him, you remind yourself. He doesn’t need you to make sure he takes his medicine and ice his wounds. Everything about his actions is screaming that he doesn’t need you. He doesn’t want you. But he shouldn’t be alone.

Taking a deep breath for courage, you toe off your white Oxfords, untie your cap, and carefully lie down behind him, just on the edge of the bed, over the covers. It takes you a moment to settle. You wrap your arm around him, although you can barely reach over the broad expanse of his torso. You hold on to his undershirt at his ribs, pressing your cheek into his back. You match your breathing to his.

Your synchronized breathing is the only movement in the room for a few minutes. Finally, Bucky stirs. Nervously, you wait to see what he will do. He doesn’t get up or acknowledge you in any way. He reaches for your hand, unlatching it from his shirt as he turns to his side, his back still to you. You brace yourself, expecting Bucky to push you away.

Instead, his grip on your hand tightens as he pulls you closer, placing your palm over his sternum and anchoring it in place with his large hand. You scoot closer to him, shimmying your legs under the covers and pressing yourself fully into him. Bucky hooks his ankle on yours, tangling your foot between his. You are wrapped around him, listening to his heartbeat. You stay there, finally feeling his breathing steadying naturally, his heartbeat slowing.

Bucky didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t want to be alone either.

He just didn’t want you to see him like this when he’s so not like himself. Or maybe that’s the problem: he is exactly like this, but he doesn’t want you to know that. He doesn’t want to spoil, poison, how you think of him. Most people, Buck being pretty much the only exception, wisely avoid him when he’s in his dark moods. Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of you doing the same. So he convinced himself not to seek out you as a mercy to himself—a bitter mercy, in the hope you’d still be there when he came around.

But you came to find him. He realizes he underestimated you in that respect. Of course, you would never just stand by, sit pretty, and wait for things to resolve themselves. You walked through pouring rain with a busted boot, making your way home through darkness and icy winds. You do things on your own terms.

He’s just glad that you’re here now rather than leaving him and all the trouble he brings you behind. It calms the storm in him enough to finally fall into a deep sleep.

It’s hours later—it must be—when you startle awake. You are still in the same position you fell asleep, tangled up with Bucky. He is still fast asleep. You blink against the darkness in the room, trying to focus your vision on something that will tell you the time. Gently, you extricate yourself from Bucky, quickly checking the time on his silver watch that had been discarded on the nightstand. It’s barely 4:30 — plenty of time to get ready for your shift. But if you want to sneak out unnoticed, you should get going before the whole base wakes up.

Tiptoeing around the room, you try to fix your hair in a bun in the darkened reflection of the small mirror — just so it doesn’t look so obviously slept in before you tie your nurses’ cap back on. Your dress is hopelessly wrinkled.

Behind you, Bucky groans, rolling over in the bed. 

“C’mere,” His voice is thick with sleep.

You look over to him, bun untwisting between your suddenly unsteady hands. Bucky is motioning to you, arms outstretched invitingly. The sheets are pooled around his waist; his normally carefully styled dark curls are a delicious mess. Powerless against his magnetic pull, you drop your cap on the floor as you climb back into his bed, into his waiting arms.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice still rough. He pulls you against him, kissing your forehead. Your fingers run through his tussled hair. 

“Of course,” You breathe, tilting your head up, hoping to get another kiss. Bucky’s hungry mouth on yours is almost more than you bargained for, hand running up your dress, over the top of your stocking, hiking your leg over his hip. His movements are deliberate, intense. Your breath hitches between the fiery kisses as you try to find equilibrium from his roaming hands. Where before he would playfully tug at the ribbon keeping your wrap dress closed, he now single-handedly undoes the knot, pushing the dress open.

“Bucky,” You gasp, pushing against his chest, trying to slow him at least down. “John,”

“You didn’t think you could come crawling into my bed and then play this innocent, did you?” He is smirking at you, hand now firmly planted on your ass, squeezing.

“I - I didn’t-” You swallow dryly. Bucky notices that you are pumping the breaks — eyes wide, hand planted against his chest  — so he switches gears. Gently rolling you onto your back, Bucky sits up on his knees, slowly running his hands over your thighs. He leans forward, pressing kisses against the swell of your breast, peeking out from under your slip dress, up your neck, along your jawline.

“Just let me take care of you,” He hums against the sensitive skin of your throat. “Like you took care of me,”

“I didn’t do anything.” You try to make sense of the feverish thoughts, your hands aimlessly traveling up Bucky’s arms, the muscles taut under your touch.

“You stayed,” he replies simply before capturing your lips in another searing kiss. You had so many reasons and every chance to walk out last night. He certainly didn’t make a very enticing choice, but you chose him anyway when he probably least deserved it. All he can do now is make you don’t regret it.

He’s pulling at your dress, dragging it over your shoulders, flinging it somewhere into the room. You struggle to keep up, yanking up Bucky’s shirt over his head, dog tags jangling on his neck. Bucky is shimmying the slip over your hips, pooling it under your breasts. You curl up, allowing him to pull it over your head. His body is on yours — skin to skin. It’s a beautiful feeling; so warm, so intimate. You run your nails over Bucky’s broad shoulders, getting acquainted with every ridge, bump, and rippling muscle under the skin.

Bucky rolls his hips into yours, drinking in your reaction — the gasping breath, the soft moan, the pleading look in your eyes. He needs to feel something. Something to fill that gaping hole in his chest, something to stem the simmer of crushing anger and pain before he loses grip on it. 

Thankfully, you have so much to give, and give it to him so freely. Bucky wants to drown in your soft skin, every gasp and moan of his name torn from your lips, your loving touch. He wants you to make him forget for just a moment that his best friend has gone down behind enemy lines and how many more friends he has lost already. He wants to feel something else that isn’t the crushing weight of the world that no amount of alcohol and no punch to the face could make him forget. 

Somewhere in the frenzied movement, Bucky skillfully rids you of the rest of your undergarments.

“You’re so beautiful, Dove,” he breathes, looking down at you, naked, hair splayed over his pillow. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” 

He's straining against his shorts, but he also wants to savor this moment with you. And in that moment of quiet, you realize you should tell him. You've never been with anyone like this before — never gone this far.

But the second his body covers yours again, his lips on yours, all hesitation dissipates together with the rest of your rational thinking. It feels too good, and you don’t want to stop now. Experimentally, your fingers dance over his chest, down to his stomach. Bucky twitches under your touch — breathing ragged between hungry kisses covering your body. His teeth tug at your nipple, tearing a loud moan from you. You’ve never experienced pain so pleasurably.

Bucky’s hands also roam over your body, squeezing and caressing every curve and dip with reverence. He traces a finger down the length of your spine before cupping your ass and pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hard length pressing against you through the thin fabric of his shorts.

You suppose you should feel nervous, but every bit of your body and mind is already entirely occupied with Bucky; there simply isn’t room. All you can think about is how you want to feel him, how you want him to feel you. If you’re not ready now, if you are not sure now, with Bucky, then you doubt you’ll ever be. 

Bucky’s fingers travel down your ribs, tickling the small of your waist, caressing your hipbone, ghosting over your slit. You arch into him, your hips jerking against his touch.

“Tell me what you want, Dove.” He grins against your mouth.

You doubt you could find the words. Maybe talking is overrated anyway.

“John,” You just keen softly, biting down on your lip as you grab his hand and guide his fingers inside to rub small circles over your clit.

“You are a demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Bucky teases, although he is enjoying this immensely — your small hand over his, showing him exactly what you want, the little domineering edge to your actions. You keep surprising him in the best ways — beyond the sweet and caring, you know what you want and how to get it. And he will gladly give all to you.

You muffle a moan against the crook of his neck as Bucky starts to move his fingers in a slow rhythm, curling them just right to make you start clenching around him. He knows what you like — he has had you come apart by hand. But having so eager, so needing yet assertive while naked under him, is everything he needs right now.

Bucky’s fingers continue to move inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your mind is hazy with desire as you grind against his hand, wanting more of his touch.

“Like- like that,” You whimper, your hips moving feverishly against his hand — your hand is tangled in his hair, tugging at his messy curls. “Don’t stop, please - fuck,” You breathe.

Bucky smirks, moving his fingers faster, and adds a second one, pushing them deeper inside of you. You shudder at the feeling, unable to contain the moans escaping your mouth. You can feel yourself getting close to the edge — you know that Bucky can sense it, too.

“Shh, Dove,” He leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss to silence as his fingers keep working you to a climax. “You’ll wake everyone up like that — or do you want an audience?” He chuckles. You can feel his hot breath against your ear.

“No,” you giggle at his words despite your brain being close to short-circuiting. “I don’t like to share,” You add with a soft sigh, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s neck, holding onto him tightly as the pleasure builds within you. Bucky captures every moan and sigh that he tears from you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He whispers against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “So responsive and needy for me.”

Your breath hitches, your body trembling as the pleasure builds within you. Bucky’s words only fuel the fire that is consuming you.  Bucky can feel how close you are getting, and he knows that it won’t take much for you to reach your climax. His fingers move faster inside you. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming, yet not enough.

“Come for me, Dove,” Bucky urges, nipping at your earlobe, encouraging you so sweetly to let go. A wave of ecstasy consumes you as you cry out Bucky’s name into his mouth. Your body shakes, contorting against him, as the orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, eyes closed, floating between. Bucky gives you very little time to recover — you barely register that he’s rid himself of his shorts, wrapping your legs around his waist, his hand clutching your hip, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“I need you so badly, Dove.” His voice trembles slightly, and his breath is shaky. It’s strange, in a way, how it warms your heart that Bucky allows you to see him, experience him, in these moments of vulnerability. He trusts you with these glimpses of him — beyond the jokes and bluster, beyond the clever comebacks and impulsive challenges — stripped back to the things he keeps hidden.

“I need only you,” You sigh in ecstasy, eyes fluttering as he enters you slowly. It feels tight, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels odd but not wrong. You swallow, shifting awkwardly, trying to accommodate how full you feel, but not sure what to do. Bucky is not moving, his fingers tight on your hip, body tense.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” He groans, eyes screwed shut. Slowly, he starts moving, calculated and deliberate — as much for his own sake as yours. Every time he bottoms out against you, it’s a shock of pleasure that runs through him from his crown to his toes. You are suddenly a lot quieter, breath softly catching with every move, your loving gaze fixed on his face, hands grasping his shoulders, as he draws out of you again with agonizing slowness before driving back in forcefully.

Your nails dig into his shoulders in response to this new pace. He looks down at your body — every supple curve moves as he drives into you, the jiggle of your hips and ass precisely as he imagined it so many times now. Bucky knows he’s not going to last very long if he gives in to how hard he really wants to fuck you. He should make this last; make it good for you. Make sure you keep coming back to him. And only him.

Bucky feels so good, and you cannot help but stare at him. His taut muscles, those broad arms and shoulders, the way he moves with such grace, his face contorted in pleasure—the pleasure of being with you. Intuitively, you move your hips in tandem with him, wanting to feel more. It’s such a small movement, but it elicits a string of curses from Bucky. You almost want to ask if something is wrong, but before you can even start finding the words, Bucky grabs you by the ankle, hitching it over his shoulder, angling your pelvis up. As he drives into you again, so much harder than before, all control and grace suddenly forgotten, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull from the overwhelming pleasure. 

He wanted to be nice — he wanted to be gentle, but you are so impossibly beguiling it drives him to madness. He sets a punishing pace, unrelentingly slamming into you now. He presses his face into your ankle, kissing and nipping at the skin. You are crying out incoherently; he hears you swear, repeating his name in ecstasy, clawing at him desperately. 

Bucky wants to remind you to be quiet, but he’s so focused on your walls tightening around his cock, he cannot come up with the words anymore. Bending forward, your leg still hooked over his shoulder and not once breaking pace, his free hand wraps around your mouth, muffling the delicious noises you’ve been making. You look surprised for a second, still under his grip.

“You are so goddamn loud, Dove,” Bucky wrenches out. “And I’m not in a sharing mood,”

The way your eyes crinkle, he can tell you are smiling — you think this is funny. You are actually fucking impossible. Your hands are running up his arms, gripping onto his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into the hard muscle as you buck your hips against his again and again, trying to take him deeper. 

He leans further forward so he can look into your eyes. Something in his gaze makes your heart stutter, an intensity that takes your breath away, smile melting off your face. Then suddenly, he’s moving faster, harder, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You’re both panting now, sweat slicking your bodies as Bucky’s hips are slamming into yours uncontrollably; he can feel his release rapidly approaching. It’s like fireworks going off in his head, every nerve ending on fire as he desperately chases his own pleasure.

It’s like the flick of a switch that makes the dam break, and he spills into you, his movements coming to a halting stop as he groans out your name, intermingled with curses, like the dirtiest prayer. You keep rolling your hips, every move making him moan and tremble, delighting in watching Bucky helpless against the tide, riding out his orgasm with you.

Finally, he nearly collapses into you, putting all his weight on his forearm so as not to crush you. Bucky’s hair is hanging over his forehead, the sweat on his chest intermingling with yours. Dazed, you grab this hand, pulling it off your lips, softly kissing the tips of his fingers.

Gently, Bucky pulls out of you, wrapping your arms around his neck so he can shift you both on your side. You cuddle up to him, peppering kisses along his jawline, enjoying how his mustache scratches against your cheek. His fingers caress your loose locks as he tries to get this breathing back under control. Brushing Bucky’s messy hair back, he looks relaxed even in the faint light of the room. The tension has left his body, and the darkness consuming darkness has also abated.

“I like it when you look like this.” You confide softly. Bucky looks at you, eyebrow raised.

“Like what?” He asks laughter in his voice. “Fucked out?” 

You shake your head, laughing too. Although you don’t think you will ever be able to look at him normally again — how are you supposed to function now that you know what Bucky looks like, what he sounds like when he comes undone, how gentle and sweet he can be, and how mind-blowingly he can fuck you?

No, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to not think about that when you look at him. And you’re glad.

“I meant when you look relaxed, happy,” You correct. “But yes, fucked out suits you too,” You add a little flippantly.

“Well, lucky me,” Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his tone turning from light to that deep timbre that pulls every string in you. “Because you look delightful in every position.”

After everything you’ve just done, the afterglow actually feels deeper, more intimate. Now that the lustful frenzy has melted away, only softness and fondness remain. Soft kisses, gentle caresses, sweet nothings—anything to fill up the time that is ticking away for you. You know that you will have to get up soon and try to sneak back unseen. If you could, you’d put it off forever.

“I’m flying today,” Bucky announces soberly as you’re pulling your stocking up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You pause, looking at him, waiting for him to continue. He is still sitting in bed, naked and smoking, with covers around his waist. You knew Bucky would be flying soon, probably on the next mission; however, he has never told you explicitly like this. It just never really came up before. When he doesn’t say anything else, you just nod in reply. 

“I won’t be on duty when you come back,” You say, focussing back on getting dressed.��

“So you can wait for me here.” Bucky leans into you, offering you a drag of his cigarette. He’s smiling playfully.

“Here, here?” You joke back, mockingly incredulous, blowing the smoke into the room.

“Preferably,” Bucky presses a kiss onto your exposed neck, close to the messy bun gathered in the nape of your neck. “Right in this bed.”

“How about I come to find you?” You tease, pushing Bucky backward, hand on his chest. “You just focus on what you need to do. I’ll be there.” You assure him with a wink.

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x nurse!reader #are you going my way?

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody" Series Page

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, childhood trauma, and alcohol abuse (basically, the ofc's a hot mess).

Ch 1 Lemon cream tart

Ch 2 Hazelnut ganache tart

Ch 3 Cream filled sponge cakes

Ch 4 Cake doughnuts

Ch 5 Jiggly soufflé cake

Ch 6 Somethin' with bananas

Ch 7 Strawberry cream puffs

Ch 8 Banana-dulce cheesecake

Ch 9 Honey-mascarpone crêpes

Ch 10 S'mores

Ch 11 Palmiers

Ch 12 BabyCakes

Steve and Bucky sexuality profiles

April Fool's Ch 11 "farewell cheesecake"

@matchat3a @bethexo07

#stucky #stucky x ofc #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #dom bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #dom/sub au #d/s au #bakery au