#˗ˏˋ ꒰ angel’s library ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[bucksangel]

i’m. going. to. scream. this is the perfect mix of angst and smut and fluff and i love the build up!! this is so skdbsk good!!!!

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a truck), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, biting/marking, pet names, lot of emotions, enemies to loves, reader has an anxiety attack

word count: 11.1k

a/n: this is one of my halloween stories that i published last year on my ao3, but since i didn't have tumblr at the time, i'm posting them here now that it's spooky season. i think this was one of my first times writing enemies to lovers and i really loved how it turned out. even almost a year later it's still one of my favorite fics i've written, so i hope y'all enjoy!

halloween fics masterlist

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“Are you sure I can’t just wait for you guys outside?” you asked, a whine working its way into your voice despite your best effort to hide your simmering anxiety. You looked at your best friend Yelena and her older sister Natasha with wide, pleading eyes as you stood in line for one of the scariest haunted houses in the state. When they both ignored your puppy dog eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chunky sweater you wore doing little to protect you from the crisp autumn wind blowing through the fields. Kicking the ground with your boot, you tried not to shiver in your short skirt—you’d stupidly forgone tights—but it was a near thing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Yelena promised, knocking her shoulder with yours. Your best friend and her sister had been smarter. Yelena wore black jeans, a cropped t-shirt and a thick yellow flannel jacket to combat the autumn chill, while Nat had on dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green army-style jacket. “I’m sure if you’re really scared, Bucky will hold your hand.” The blonde waggled her eyebrows at you while Nat snickered.

Something fluttered in your stomach at the thought of holding hands with Bucky Barnes—it was ridiculous how the idea still got a reaction out of you, even after all the years you’d known him—but you kept your face blank as Yelena and Nat both watched you closely. You’d never admitted your crush on Bucky to anyone, let alone your best friend. Annoyingly, Yelena could read you too well and she loved to tease you about your infatuation with Nat’s friend. But you still stubbornly refused to admit it.

So although you hoped with all your heart that her suggestion would become a reality, you forced yourself to make a disgusted face, ignoring the flash of triumph in Yelena’s green eyes. “Bucky would rather chop off his arm than hold my hand—he hates me,” you pointed out, reminding your best friend of the biggest reason you knew hoping for anything more with Nat’s friend would be in vain. Unable to talk about Bucky without the sting of disappointment and rejection piercing your heart, and not wanting it to show on your face, you looked around at the crowded area where you waited in line for the haunted house.

You squinted against the afternoon sun, which was high in the sky, washing the fields and orchards and various red wooden buildings in bright light. Thanks to the chilly breeze, it was the perfect autumn day, which meant everyone had had the same thought as you and your friends and decided to spend the day at the fall attraction.

All around you, groups of people milled about, some joining the long line for the haunted house while others walked past the gigantic barn that housed the spooky attraction and continued on to the rest of the farm and its attractions. The haunted house was just one of many at the Barton Family Farm. There was also a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, an apple orchard, a hay ride through the fields, and a petting zoo for the kids. But although Barton’s boasted plenty to do, the haunted house was the farm’s biggest draw—people came from all over the state to go through it. Barton’s haunted house had a reputation for scaring people so badly they needed to be escorted out by staff, there were multiple exits throughout in case people wanted to bail.

Barton’s haunted house was, of course, what attracted your friends, but you were more excited for pumpkin picking and apple cider donuts. Through a lot of pleading and begging, Yelena had managed to talk you into going through the haunted house with her, Nat and Nat’s friends who were set to meet up with you at any moment. Still, you were reluctant.

Another shiver racked your body and you tightened your arms around yourself as you turned back to your friends. “You know I hate haunted houses, why can’t I just meet you guys at the pumpkin patch or something?” you asked again, the whine in your voice more obvious as your anxiety and fear spiked the closer you got to the front of the line.

“Oh no,” a mocking voice said from behind you. “Is the little baby scared of a haunted house?”

You whirled around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes, his ice blue eyes practically sparking with glee at your discomfort. His full lips were curled up into a cruel smirk set into his scruffy, stubbled jaw. Despite yourself, you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. He was just so damn hot, it wasn’t fair that he hated you so much.

Bucky and his best friend Steve Rogers pulled up next to your group and before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted down Bucky’s body. Despite how stubbornly you avoided talking or thinking about your crush on him, you were helpless when he was right in front of you. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the way his chest filled out the gray and blue layered shirts he wore, and how his shoulders looked particularly broad in his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed over his dark wash jeans and dark boots before you remembered yourself, forcing your eyes away from Bucky entirely.

Perhaps it was a little childish, but your way of dealing with Bucky—since Nat was always inviting him, Steve and their other friend Sam Wilson to hang out with her, Yelena, and you—was to ignore him. It had the double benefit of keeping up the appearance that you didn’t have a crush on Bucky, and it seemed to frustrate Bucky to no end. You never understood it. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either. You hated that his contradictory behavior only made you curious to understand him, instead of turning you off.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warned his best friend as he greeted Nat and Yelena with hugs. He wrapped you up in his arms last, your face squished into the cream cable knit sweater he wore over his own broad chest. Steve squeezed you tight, making you wish—not for the first time—that you had a crush on him instead of his grumpy best friend.

“Barnes wouldn’t know how to be nice if it bit him in the ass,” you sneered as you stepped back from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself again to fend off the autumn chill. It felt colder without Steve’s warmth and you tamped down on the sudden wish to have Bucky’s arms wrapped around you to keep you warm.

“You think about my ass a lot, doll?” Bucky snarked, the pet name rolling of his tongue like an insult. His smirk grew into a full-blown grin and his blue eyes heated.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Bucky was flirting with you, but you shoved that idea aside. Bucky didn’t flirt with you. He mocked you and teased you and did seemingly everything he possibly could to make it clear he didn’t like you. So why did you still like him—it was a question your foolish heart didn’t have an answer for. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting, you looked away from Bucky, ignoring him.

“Knock it off,” Steve scolded, smacking Bucky upside the head. Yelena and Natasha laughed as Bucky’s expression collapsed into a frown while you pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and Nat asked Steve where Sam was as you all shuffled forward with the line. Distractedly, you listened as Steve explained Sam had had to help his sister with something. There were only a handful of groups left between your friends and the door; panic crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe. All of a sudden you realized that not only were you about to subject yourself to being terrified by strangers, but Bucky would be there to witness just how easily scared you were. Dread churned with the anxiety in your stomach, creating a nauseating mix.

Turning to your best friend, you tried to keep your voice low as you spoke so no one overheard. “Lena, please,” you begged, using the nickname you’d given her when you were kids so she’d know how serious you were. “Can’t I skip the haunted house?”

Yelena’s face fell. “You promised we’d do this together,” she said, shooting a furtive look over her shoulder at Nat, Steve and Bucky, who were laughing about something. “You know I hate being alone with my sister and her friends—it makes me feel left out.”

“So come with me to get some apple cider instead,” you urged in a vehement whisper, linking your arm with hers so it might look less suspicious that you and Yelena had your heads bent so close together. Not that Nat wasn’t used to you and Yelena whispering together, you were best friends after all.

Shaking her head, Yelena glanced over her shoulder again. “You know Bucky won’t let either of us hear the end of it if we chicken out now,” she argued.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you looked at your best friend. You knew Yelena didn’t care about Bucky’s teasing as much as you did, but you weren’t sure why she was so adamant about you going through the haunted house. 

Natasha’s laugh rang loudly behind you, making Yelena look back at her sister with love clear in her green eyes and you suddenly realized what was going on. Yelena’s hero worship for her older sister was nothing new to you, and you guessed she was more worried about Nat’s teasing than Bucky’s. You’d long dedicated yourself to helping Yelena live up to the pressure she put on herself to be cool enough for Nat. So if that meant putting up with a little haunted house anxiety and being scared, then it was the price you’d pay for your best friend.

With a dramatic sigh, you squeezed Yelena’s arm tighter in yours so you were inseparable. “Fine,” you relented, giving your best friend a weak smile. “But you’re buying me hot apple cider after this.” Yelena shot you a wide grin before she was distracted by Nat linking arms on her other side.

“You ladies ready to get scared?” Natasha asked in a raucous voice, like she was trying to drum up excitement. Yelena whooped loudly while all you could muster was a half-hearted cheer as fear roiled in your stomach. Steve threw a casual arm around Natasha’s shoulders, ruffling Yelena’s blonde hair a little. She ducked away as much as she could without breaking away from her sister, shooting Steve an annoyed look. He didn’t see it though, too busy reading the rules and warnings for the haunted house that were posted next to the door.

“Don’t forget,” Steve said as your group stepped up, ready to be the next ones let into the barn. “If you get too scared, there are emergency exits along the way.” He shot you a look over your friends’ heads and your face heated, shame climbing up your throat. Your shoulders tensed as you looked away from his kind blue eyes, feeling humiliated that everyone knew how scared you were of a haunted house.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky started, the mocking way he said the pet name making it clear he was talking to you.

Before you could stop yourself and ignore whatever he was going to say, you looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were bright and intent on you—probably excited to see what reaction he’d get out of you, you figured. You were determined to give him nothing.

“Just look for the bright red exit signs,” he said in a fake nice voice. “If you need help, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction—that is, of course, if you even make it to the first emergency exit.”

Fighting the instinct to show how much his words hurt you, you turned back forward. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from showing any kind of reaction, even with Bucky unable to see your face. Still, Yelena saw something in your expression.

“Shut up, Bucky,” your best friend snapped, glaring at the man over her shoulder.

Your best friend’s anger lit a fire in your heart and you raised your chin in defiance. You would make it all the way through the haunted house, if only to spite Bucky Barnes and prove to both him and yourself that you could do it. With your newfound courage, you threw a glare at Bucky over your shoulder, but the way he was looking at you took you by surprise.

Bucky’s blue eyes were dark with interest as he took in the determined expression on your face. As you watched, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. The look on his face had something hot and needy sinking deep into your core, but before you could analyze what it was—and rationalize away the way Bucky looked at you in that moment—the worker at the door ushered your group forward.

The man, dressed like a farm worker covered in blood, pulled the door open and Steve stepped in first. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best brave face as you followed your friends—but you held onto Yelena’s arm so tight you wondered if she’d lose circulation in her hand. Fear clawed in your stomach, making your heart beat wildly in your chest, as you stepped over the threshold.

Once Bucky followed you through the door, the worker shut it and you were plunged into darkness. Even with the sun shining brightly just outside the door, the dark antechamber was completely pitch black. You bit your lip against a startled scream, surprised at the loss of light. You felt a hand at your lower back and stiffened before realizing it was Bucky. Based on the warmth radiating just behind your shoulder, you could tell he stood close and, despite how much of an asshole he could be, having him close helped to ease some of the fear and anxiety making your heart batter against your ribcage. 

Ahead of you, Steve must’ve found the door to proceed through the haunted house because it cracked open, letting weak yellow light spill into the antechamber. A moment later, you were tugged along by Yelena and Bucky’s hand fell from your back. Immediately, you missed his solidness and warmth.

The Barton Family Farm’s haunted house had a themed story, something about serial killer farm workers who murder people for trespassing in their fields by luring them into the barn. The story seemed to be an excuse to decorate various areas of the barn as torture chambers, with severed limbs and fake blood decorating every surface. You kept your face mostly buried in Yelena’s shoulder, with only one eye peaking out as people dressed like deranged farm hands jumped out at you and your friends.

When you passed by the first emergency exit sign, the red neon making a blood-drenched scene of a man hacking up a body to feed to his pigs all the eerier, pride eclipsed the anxiety for a moment. But then you moved into the next portion of the haunted house and the fear returned in full force.

You and your friends were forced through a narrow corridor, the wooden walls pushing in on either side and making you feel claustrophobic. To make matters worse, hands reached through holes in the wall, grabbing at you and your friends’ clothes. Your heart pounded in your throat, as you felt cornered, like a mouse caught in a trap just waiting to die. Anxiously, you pushed against Yelena, trying to force your friends to go faster, but in your moment of distraction, a hand grabbed at your skirt, making you scream and push harder. In the back of your head, you knew you were being a little silly. It was a haunted house, but the danger and the fear felt real.

At the end of the tight corridor, you and your friends stumbled into a large room made to look like a normal barn, with stalls along the side. Nothing appeared immediately wrong with it, which made your anxiety spike harder. You backed up, bumping into Bucky. His chest felt solid behind you and for just a moment you reveled in it. Then Steve began leading you and your friends through the room and Yelena tugged you away from Bucky. Fear was making your heart beat wildly, your breath coming in short, desperate pulls as you prepared for another jump scare.

When your group reached the center of the room, five deranged farm hands appeared out of the woodwork, all carrying threatening looking farm instruments as they rushed you and your friends with loud battle cries. You, Yelena and Nat all screamed, and even Steve let out a startled shout, jumping apart when the men ran toward you, breaking up your linked arms like an awful game of red rover.

Your panic took over and you ran to the side, realizing too late you’d maneuvered yourself into one of the fake stalls. Actually cornered, your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You turned to run, and were met by three of the men blocking the entrance of the stall. A panicked shriek fell from your mouth when they stepped toward you in unison, backing you up against the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes and started leaking down your cheeks as panic clawed at your throat, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short, sharp gasps for air, but you felt like you couldn’t get any into your lungs. Your gaze went fuzzy through your tears.

“Hey assholes!” a voice shouted over the taunting and the jeering of the men. Blinking away your tears, you saw Bucky barreling through the line of farm hands, shoving one into another to make room for him to get to you. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?” Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and your arms immediately went around his waist, clinging to him as you wobbled on unsteady legs. Bucky started to lead you out of the stall, but the men tried to block your path. “Get out of my fucking way,” Bucky spat, shooting them a glare so scary they shrank back. 

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body as he led you through the room. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, your breathing still short and panicked. You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, sobbing against his shirt as your whole body shook. You weren’t sure how you even stayed on your feet, but you couldn’t think past the fear and panic and certainty you were going to die.

After a few minutes, Bucky tugged you through a door and you felt cool, fresh air swirl around your shaky legs. The autumn breeze blew through your sweater and made you shiver harder. Your feet stumbled over grass as Bucky pulled you along, but you couldn’t think about where he was leading you. The only thing that registered was your fingers ached and only then did you realize you’d been gripping the lapels of Bucky’s jacket so hard the zipper dug into your palms, leaving marks.

Slowly, you became aware of chatter around you, the sounds of car doors opening and shutting, people talking and laughing. Still, your shoulders shook uncontrollably as anxiety pulsed through your veins and you clung harder to Bucky. He smelled safe, like woodsmoke and something earthy like vetiver. The sounds of the farm and haunted house grew more distant as Bucky kept walking.

Finally, you came to a stop and the sound of a truck door opening next to you pulled your attention away from the way your heart raced in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since the haunted house, you glanced around and found Bucky had brought you to his old red pickup truck. He’d parked in a corner of the lot that bordered a couple cornfields. There weren’t any people around, the other cars’ owners back at the farm having fun.

“Up you go, doll,” Bucky murmured, boosting you up onto the driver’s seat, facing him as he stood next to the truck cab. His brow was creased with concern as he frowned at you. It wasn’t until Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and settled it around your shoulders that you realized you were still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or your anxiety, but you pulled it tighter, relishing the warmth and his smell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Before you could think better of it, you fisted Bucky’s shirt in your hands and pulled him closer, shifting to the edge of the seat and spreading your legs so you could wrap yourself around him. You clung to him tightly as you cried quietly into his shirt.

Bucky tucked your head under his chin and looped his arms around you under his jacket, one hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You’re OK,” he murmured in a low voice that sent warmth curling through your limbs, chasing away the anxiety and adrenaline. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the panic and fear started to drain out of you. Unfortunately, it was replaced by embarrassment as the full extent of the situation hit you like a brick. You hated that Bucky had seen you at your worst—scared to the point of having a panic attack. All over a stupid haunted house.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of humiliation as it washed over you. There was no way Bucky was ever going to let you live this down. And to make it worse, you were still clinging to him like a scared little baby, just like he accused you of being. That reminder was enough to make you desperate to rebuild the walls you’d erected to keep Bucky from seeing you as weak—or worse, as someone who wanted him and his comfort.

As covertly as you could, you wiped at your eyes with your fingers, trying to clear away the mess of makeup your tears had created. Once you’d fixed your face as much as you thought possible, you pulled back from Bucky, a mask of indifference on your face, though it was wobbly at best. Pulling his jacket from your shoulders, you shoved it against his chest, pushing him away so you could put some distance between your bodies.

“Well you must be thrilled,” you said in a prim, sarcastic tone. You kept your gaze fixed on his chin, unable to meet his eyes. He took the jacket from you and tossed it over the back of the truck’s bench seat.

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, though you couldn’t be sure without looking at him fully, which you refused to do. So you just jutted your chin out defensively, staring at the scruff on his jaw.

“I proved you right, Barnes,” you explained meanly. “I’m a little baby who got so scared in the haunted house I had to be escorted out through an emergency exit.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away through the windshield of the truck, blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay. The sun had dropped lower in the sky, painting the cornfield in a golden hue.

“You think that’s what I really think about you?” Bucky demanded in an angry tone, but there was something else in your voice, something you couldn’t name. “Seriously?”

Your frustration grew to a boiling point, enough to give you the courage to finally look at him. His blue eyes were blazing with irritation and, if you weren’t mistaken, hurt. But you pushed that aside because there was no way Bucky could be hurt by your words, you were simply telling the truth. “You literally called me a baby!” you pointed out. “It was the first thing you said to me when you got here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard his head tipped back in annoyance. “You really are going to be the death of me, I swear to fucking god,” he bit out around clenched teeth, his voice harsh.

You let out an indignant screech. “What did I do?” you shot back, meeting his ice blue eyes with your best glare. “Literally what did I ever do to you to make you treat me the way you do?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bucky shoved his hands into his short brown hair, tugging on the strands as he stepped back from the truck and turned away from you like he could barely stand to look at you. He only gave you a momentary reprieve, though, before he whirled back and jabbed an accusing finger in your direction. “You ignore me!” he accused in a restrained shout, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance. “You won’t even look at me unless I’m being mean to you.”

“Are you kidding me!?” you shrieked indignantly, not even bothering to have the same restraint as Bucky. You didn’t care if you drew a crowd, not that it was likely with how far away his truck was parked from the main farm grounds. “You ignored me the first night I met you,” you seethed. “I asked you how you met Nat and you literally grunted and walked away from me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you pressed your lips closed to stop yourself from saying more. It already felt like you’d said too much, which was confirmed by the slack look on Bucky’s face. Horror washed over you as you realized you’d probably just basically told Bucky about your crush. You remembered the night you met, you remembered the exact conversation you’d tried to have with him. He’d have to know how you felt about him after giving away that detail.

In an effort to save face, you let yourself blurt out the first thing you could think to say. “So maybe I ignored you after that, but you deserved it!”

Bucky’s eyes blazed to life as he stepped up to the truck, crowding into your space, his hands resting on the top of the cab as he leaned into you. You wanted to shy away, afraid of your body’s reaction to him being so close—already, you felt a warm thrum in your core and your legs twitched like they wanted to spread for him—but you refused and instead held your ground.

“Fucking hell, that’s what this is about? I wasn’t ignoring you, doll,” Bucky said in a low, harsh voice. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, his stare so captivating you couldn’t look away. “I was fucking tongue-tied because I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between you and Bucky, the tension between you two crackling with energy. Your heart squeezed excitedly in your chest, happy to accept him at his word, but your brain was slower to trust. “What?” you asked in a tight voice as you tried to breathe through your shock and stop yourself from getting too excited.

“You are so fucking pretty you make my head spin,” Bucky said, his hand sliding against your jaw and cupping your chin delicately in his palm. “And if I have to be an asshole to get you to look at me, then I’ll be a fucking asshole,” he explained. His thumb grazed softly over your cheek, his blue eyes reading your expression like you were a language he wished to learn.

It was too much. You and Bucky had known each other for years, you’d been ignoring him at group outings and parties for years, he’d been sniping at you and provoking a reaction out of your for years. You simply couldn’t wrap your mind around the possibility he had feelings for you.

So you settled on a different explanation, one that seemed much more plausible. Righteous anger burned through the delicate hope in your heart, but it felt safer, more comfortable than the scary prospect of having to admit you liked Bucky.

Placing both hands on his chest, you shoved Bucky back and away from you. “Are you seriously messing with me right now?” you demanded accusatorially, already having decided he was. “You’re really such a fucking asshole, Barnes, to stoop this low.”

For a moment, Bucky looked too stunned to speak. He stared at you with a blank look for so long, doubt started to creep in, souring your stomach. But then a fire lit in Bucky’s blue eyes, burning through his icy gaze and threatening to take you down with him in the blaze. Before you could realize what he was doing, he closed the distance you’d created, his hands wrapping around the sides of your face, holding you still as his lips descended on yours.

Bucky brushed a soft kiss against your lips, just ghosting against your mouth before nipping your lower lip in a teasing bite. The sting made you gasp and he took advantage of your parted lips to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing down your moan at the feel of his rough stubble and gentle lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was determined to devour you and was simply starting with your mouth.

Bucky’s kiss was heady and all-consuming, your brain blissfully free of doubt and questions and confusion. All you could feel were Bucky’s soft lips and expert tongue. Everything else fell away as you sank deeper into the kiss, letting yourself melt in his hands. Bucky kissed you like he was tempting you to surrender your soul to him and with the press of his lips, and the slide of his tongue, you were more than willing to risk it all.

When Bucky pulled away, it took you a moment to recover, your eyes blinking open dazedly, eyelashes fluttering. You found Bucky hovering close like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you. His own blue gaze was hooded and a soft happy smile was on his full lips. Slowly, Bucky started to straighten as if wanting to give you space, but you fisted your hands in his shirt collar and tugged him back down, kissing him with the same fervor he’d shown you.

Bucky made a surprised sound that was muffled against your lips, but then he was sinking back into your kiss, his mouth letting you take control. You slid your hands up and into his soft brown hair, arms wrapping around his neck as you held him close, unable to stop yourself from trying to devour him as much as he had you.

As distracted as you were by the kiss, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over your back through your sweater until he reached your ass. His big hands dug into the leather truck seat to grab you firmly and drag you to the edge. Your legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his broad body. Your core met a hard bulge in Bucky’s jeans, drawing a hiccuping gasp from you that made him grin against your lips.

“Believe me now, baby?” Bucky rasped and you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, the mocking lilt of his voice gave away. But though you’d heard Bucky use a mocking tone plenty of times before, there was a warmth in it now, almost a purr. “D’you believe that I’ve wanted you for years?” He rolled his hips against you, pulling a moan from deep inside you at the feel of his jeans-covered length rubbing against your slit through your panties. “D’you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp growl that shot straight to your clit, making heat surge through your body and flood your core.

“I believe you, Bucky,” you said, but deep in your mind you knew it wasn’t the truth—or, at least, the full truth. It’d take longer to really, fully believe him, but you wanted to and that was the first step. So you pushed your doubts and insecurities aside for the moment as he rocked his hips again, making you squirm on the edge of the truck seat, trying to rub against him like a cat in heat. Even through your clothes, he was so hot and hard against your damp, swollen center. It made you dizzy, how much you needed him.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised in a gruff voice, kissing your temple. His hands clutched your ass tighter, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he positioned you just right so he could dig his bulge deeper into your panty-covered slit, pushing between your folds to grind against your clit.

The praise from Bucky’s lips felt so good it made tears prick in your eyes. You never thought you’d hear him say anything so sweet to you, and you loved it so much you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him to say it again. But that was too pathetic, even for you, so instead you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck and tipped your head back, moaning into the truck cab, the sound reverberating through the metal and leather. You humped against Bucky, matching his rhythm, the stimulation making you soak through your panties.

Bucky dug his hands out from under your ass, skating them up your sides and under your sweater, pushing it up until your tits were bared to the chilly autumn air. Your nipples instantly pebbled and Bucky groaned at the sight of them poking through your bra. He bent down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth through the thin lace. When he bit down gently on the sensitive nub, you cried out and rocked harder against his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against your chest, his lips grazing along your skin as he moved to the other nipple. “Grind your sweet little pussy on daddy’s bulge,” Bucky encouraged you in a voice as rough as the gravel under his boots.

Your inner walls clenched at what Bucky called himself and you rolled your head up to look at him through slitted eyes. He caught your gaze as he sucked your tit, letting it pop from his lips so he could grin shamelessly up at you. His blue eyes raked over your face, taking in your reaction to what he’d called himself.

You’d never called anyone you’d hooked up with daddy, but for some reason it felt right with Bucky. You wanted to test it out, see how it’d feel on your lips. Something told you it’d feel dirty in a delicious way. But you bit your lip, still shy around Bucky, still uncertain.

He seemed to read your thoughts on your face, biting your nipple gently and laving it one last time before he dragged his head up to press his forehead against yours, letting your sweater drop back down. He kissed you, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips thrusting against your center. When he pulled back, he was breathing just as heavily as you. “Gotta get you nice and wet so you can take daddy’s cock, right baby?” he asked, his heated blue eyes meeting yours and holding you captive.

More wetness flooded your pussy at his dirty words, and at the way he made you feel safe in his arms. He’d saved you from the haunted house, he’d pined for you just as long as you had. He was proving you could count on him, making up for all those years of being an asshole, you just had to decide to trust him. It didn’t seem like it should be so easy, but you wanted to trust him. So you did.

“Yes, daddy,” you answered in a sweet, breathy voice. You’d been right, it did feel deliciously dirty to call Bucky daddy. The way your tongue and lips formed the word alone felt naughty, sending more heat curling through your already swollen and tingling pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned when you called him daddy, scrunching his eyes shut as his hips stilled. His bulge was pressed so tightly against your core, you swore you could feel him throb in his jeans. “You’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me come in my pants,” he accused, opening his eyes only wide enough to furrow his brow in a half-hearted glare.

You couldn’t help yourself, Bucky just looked so silly, trying and failing to glare at you while he tried not to come—you giggled. The sound was pure and sweet as it tumbled from your lips. A wide, happy grin spread across your face to match the delighted sound.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and his blue eyes rounded as he witnessed you at the happiest he’d ever seen you and, for the first time, it was because of him, not in spite of him. Before your giggle had died completely, Bucky was smothering you with kisses. He peppered them across your lips and your cheek and your nose and your eyelids—any bit of your face he could reach while you tried to bat him away. His treatment only made you giggle more and try to squirm away, but he banded his arms and held you to him.

“Bucky, stop!” you squealed, leaning back to try to escape. He pulled back, breathless as his eyes raked over your face, relaxing when he saw you were just out of breath from giggling. When you opened your eyes, you caught Bucky staring down at you, affection written plainly across his face, etched into the lines of his eyes and the curves of his mouth.

As you both simply sat there, staring at each other, you watched as doubt creeped into Bucky’s expression. “You want this, right?” he asked in a tender, rumbly voice, staring you directly in the eye as he watched for any sign of hesitation.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth. “Bucky,” you started, pausing to gather your courage. With tentative fingers, you brushed his brown hair back from his forehead, eyes focusing on your hand so you wouldn’t have to look at him while you confessed. “I’ve had a crush on you since that first night, I was just too scared to tell anyone—especially you.”

Bucky winced a little when he heard the truth. He knew he’d been an asshole to you for too long to deserve anything less, but he recovered quickly. He ducked down, kissing your sweetly, an apology on his lips. When he pulled away, he voiced the words he should’ve said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you that first night,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your lips when you tried to interrupt him. “And I’m so fucking sorry for being an asshole every day since then.” He sighed against your lips, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get the chance to kiss you, which is why he did it again. “I swear on my fucking life, baby, I’ll never make you feel like anything less than the prettiest girl in the world ever again,” he promised against your lips, sealing it with another kiss.

You kissed him back, matching the vehemence in his words and his lips. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled softly. “Just please, no more haunted houses,” you begged jokingly. You smiled into his skin, dragging your mouth along the scruff of his jaw, feeling it rasp against your swollen lips. You felt the side of Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile, enticing you back to his lips.

“No more haunted houses,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. Bucky’s hands digging under your thighs was your only warning before he used his grip to haul you further into the truck cab, your ass sliding across the bench seat. “But I am going to fuck you in the parking lot of this haunted house,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed up into the truck after you. He pulled the door shut behind him to keep out the autumn chill and the distant sounds of the crowded farm.

“Bucky!” you shrieked as he covered your body with his, pressing you into the worn leather seat of his truck. His smell surrounded you, not just because he pressed close to you but because it was embedded in ever fiber of the truck. It felt like you were being cocooned in Bucky and you didn’t want to leave, but you still felt obligated to protest. “Our friends will be looking for us,” you pointed out, but you sounded half-hearted even to your own ears, especially as you parted your thighs for Bucky to slip between.

He ducked his head, kissing up your neck as his hips settled into the cradle of your thighs. Of their own volition, your knees climbed his sides, shifting until the hard bulge in his jeans pressed directly to your aching core. He chuckled when you let out a breathy moan despite your protest.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you for years,” he murmured in between kisses, tilting your head to the side so he could suck on the skin beneath your ear, drawing another moan from your lips. “Fuck our friends, I can’t wait—I need to be inside you, baby, please,” he mumbled, dragging his lips across your throat so you could feel his need spoken into your skin. It sunk down deep inside you, to your bones, your marrow, convincing you of his desire with every breath.

In response, you rocked your hips up, grinding your heat against his bulge. A broken groan stuttered from Bucky’s lips, making you smile. Your need for him was equally insatiable and you gave up any pretense of protesting when he begged you. “I’m all yours, Bucky, take me,” you whispered, dragging his face to yours and slanting your lips against his in a heated kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please, I need you,” you begged in a desperate voice.

Bucky groaned low in his throat at the sound of you begging. “Such a desperate little slut for daddy, huh baby?” he asked in a sweetly patronizing tone, so much like the way he used to speak to you but so, so different. And when you looked up at him, his face was filled with affection.

Skimming his hand up your thigh, Bucky reached under your skirt, pushing it up so it bunched around your waist. His fingers hooked in your panties, and he pulled them down as you lifted up. He sat up enough to maneuver you in the small space to free one ankle, letting your panties dangle from the other as he undid his jeans and pulled his dick out.

Your eyes were glued to the thick cock Bucky pumped in his hand. He was girthy, with veins decorating the side and leading up to his broad mushroom tip. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, straining for you, precum dripping from the head. Your pussy clenched hard, greedy for Bucky’s cock as you reached for him.

Bucky grinned at the hungry look on your face, pushing you gently back down on the bench seat and pushing your sweater up so he could see your tits. He groped at your soft flesh, tugging on your nipples until your eyes were fluttering closed and moans were falling out of your mouth. Bucky bent over your body, planting a hand on the door above your head so he could hover over you. “Condom?” he asked.

You caught his blue gaze and held it as you shook your head. “No,” you answered firmly. “Want you bare.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky froze for a moment, going so still you could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. “You’re on birth control? You’ve been tested?” he asked in a tight voice like he was forcing the questions out.

You giggled softly, the sound more seductive than cute and you wondered for a brief second where it came from. But then you took stock of Bucky poised above you, his cock so hard in his hand it had turned an angry red color as it leaked from the tip while his eyes and lips were pinched tightly closed. You gave it a long moment before you put him out of his misery—call it a little bit of payback. “I have an IUD, I’ve been tested since my last partner, I’m all good.”

Bucky’s eyes were still pressed shut, but he let out a long breath. “I’ve been tested too—I’m good,” he forced out. When his eyes finally opened, his blue eyes blazed, the intensity of his gaze burning into you, threatening to consume you alive—and you’d happily let it. “Gonna take my cock raw, baby?” His voice was a rasp like the metal grate containing a fire. With his grip on his cock, he slapped the thick head on your clit before rubbing his length between your folds, coating himself with your desire.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of him torturing your pussy. “Yes, daddy,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good thing you’re on birth control, because I’m not fucking pulling out,” he bit out in a harsh tone that sent shivers skating down to your core. His gaze flicked to yours, checking in, and you nodded to let him know you were good with what he was saying and doing. A grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to his cock teasing your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up your tight little cunt with my come,” he promised, nudging your hole with the wide tip of his dick.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, reaching your limit with his teasing. Your hips raised in the air to try to take him into your pussy, but Bucky backed off, sitting back on his haunches. When you reached for him, he moved his hand from the door and threaded his fingers through yours. Placing a kiss to each of your fingers, he stared down at you like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you spread out beneath him.

“I love it when you beg, baby,” he said finally. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” An impish grin pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “But you’ll have to settle for my cock—for now,” he teased, leaning down over you again, pressing your clasped hands against the seat next to your head. With his other hand, he lined his cock up at your entrance and he breathed hard as he teased you just a little bit more. “So wet for me, baby, such a good girl for daddy,” he murmured praises just before he pushed inside.

Bucky let out a long, deep groan as his cock sunk deep into your pussy, feeling your wet heat clutch at his hardness. The stretch of his thick girth stole the breath from your lungs as he slid in to the hilt in one steady thrust. He paused there, giving you both time to adjust. “Fuck,” he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. “More, daddy, please—need you, need more,” you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where you ended and he began. You didn’t know how you could ever get enough of this man. In such a short time, he’d made you feel safe and loved and you felt like you were cracking apart, opening yourself up to him. His sweet words and gentle touches had awoken a ravenous hunger in your heart and you wanted him closer, you wanted to consume him and be consumed in return.

Giving you what you asked for, Bucky pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. “So good, so good, baby, so fucking good for daddy,” he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for you. Your face pressed into Bucky’s neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. “Daddy—daddy, need you, more, please,” you begged, knowing you weren’t making any sense. Your legs locked around his waist, booted feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn’t pull out more than an inch.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Is this what you needed, sweet girl?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck and wrenching you away from where you were sucking hickies into his throat so he could look in your eyes. “Need to be pinned down with daddy’s cock buried balls-deep in your cunt?” He settled his weight almost entirely on top of you, watching as your eyes went hooded with delight, a dazed smile curling your lips. “D’you need daddy to mark you up, baby?” he asked, ducking down and nudging the collar of your sweater to the side so he could suck your skin between his teeth until you were both sure he’d leave a mark. “D’you need daddy to take you, hard and rough and filthy?” he demanded a moment before he sank his teeth into a spot toward the back of your neck right on the edge of your hairline.

A sharp cry fell from your lips as Bucky bit you, but it dissolved into a moan when he pulled back and licked the spot. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Bucky. Your head felt hazy, like you were buzzed, but all you were drunk on was Bucky’s cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck, jesus fuck, that’s it, take it baby, take it,” he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips against yours in tight movements, grinding into your cunt and clit until you were a panting, needy mess beneath him. “Love seeing you fucked out and cock drunk for me, baby,” he huffed as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

All you could do was whimper and nod, trying to keep your eyes open so you could look into Bucky’s blue gaze as he leaned up and looked down at you. He watched as pleasure contorted your face, delighting in the way your jaw dropped open when he hit a particular spot deep inside you.

“Good girl, good girl,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers over your sweaty forehead and dropping down to kiss your lips. He nuzzled his scruff against your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

You understood the feeling. Your fingers gripped Bucky’s hand still laced in yours, the other threading into his soft brown hair while your heels dug into his strong thighs, keeping him locked against your body. If you thought you could endure letting him go, even only for a moment, you would’ve begged him to rip your clothes off so you could feel his skin against yours. But you couldn’t even fathom untangling your bodies in that moment.

“My perfect girl, you feel so good,” Bucky murmured, trailing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, possessively. “Need you to come for me, baby, need you to come on my cock,” he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. “Fuck, I can’t stop, baby, ‘m gonna come.” He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. “Come on daddy’s cock, baby, come for daddy,” Bucky rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge. “That’s it, that’s it, be my good girl, baby, please,” he begged.

The desperation in Bucky’s voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. You clutched his fingers in yours, nails digging into the back of his hand, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into the soft cotton covering Bucky’s shoulder, you muffled a scream into his shirt, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, gonna make daddy come,” he mumbled, his free hand digging between your body and the leather seat to grip your ass.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, daddy,” you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. “Fill me up with your come—need it, need you,” you whined, squirming beneath him.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down to the seat with his hips. “Take it, baby, take my come,” he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. “Good girl,” he panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Bucky collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. “So good for daddy, baby,” he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Bucky’s hair, the short strands soft against your skin, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

After a few minutes of recovering, Bucky sat up and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it while he stared down at you, love and affection burning bright in his blue eyes. “What’re the chances I can convince you to let me take you home now so we can do that again?” he asked, a playful smile curling his lips.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from immediately agreeing. You wanted to spend time with Bucky and get to know him in ways you’d only previously dreamed—not just with more sex, but being able to talk to him without the weight of both your anger and hurt hanging around your necks. But the last you saw your friends, you and Bucky were bailing on the haunted house, and you knew you should check in with them. Plus, you’d been looking forward to all the other autumnal fun Barton’s Family Farm offered and you’d be damned if you left after just the haunted house.

“But I want apple cider and donuts,” you said, pouting up at Bucky, widening your eyes to exaggerate your puppy dog look.

Bucky immediately caved, unable to resist giving you whatever you wanted, especially since it was easily within his power. “I’ll buy you all the apple cider and donuts you want, baby” he promised, ducking down to give you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, though, he had a greedy look in his eye. “But then you’re coming home with me, yeah?”

A grin bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you agreed easily and Bucky gave you an answering smile, like it was a natural reaction to seeing you happy.

As Bucky righted himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up, it occurred to you that you’d never seen him so relaxed, and you didn’t think it had to do with the sex you’d just had. When he looked up, he caught you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. His fingers reached up to smooth over the burgeoning marks on his neck. “Are the hickies too noticeable.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and looped your arms around his neck. “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was looking at,” you said. At his raised eyebrow, you went on. “You’re so handsome,” you said in a fake dreamy voice, a little bit of teasing in your words. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away, just smiled down at you fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He waited you out long enough that what you really wanted to say finally rolled off your tongue. “You’re happy, right?” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion but before he could answer, you continued. “Because I’m happy—this might be the happiest I’ve been in a long time and if you’re going to take me back to our friends and pretend like nothing happened, I need to know now.

A troubled expression was on Bucky’s face by the time you stopped talking. “Hey, no,” he said, when you finished. “I’m happy—I told you I’ve wanted this for years,” he reminded you, ducking his head down so he could look at you face to face. “I’m not gonna be that asshole again to you, ever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours like he could root out all the insecurity and squash it. “If I need to spend the next couple months or years proving that to you, I will, OK?”

Stupid tears welled up in your eyes but you blinked them back and gave Bucky a watery smile, your heart feeling like it could burst you were so happy. Bucky leaned in and kissed the apples of your cheeks, first one then the other, before dipping down to kiss your lips. By the time he was done, your eyes were dry. “Ready to get back out there?” he asked and you nodded.

With gentle hands, Bucky used some napkins from the glovebox to clean you up as well as he could, then helped you fix your clothes. He took you by the hand and led you out of the truck. When you hopped out, you shivered in the autumnal chill, immediately wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the cold. Bucky noticed and reached back into his truck to grab his leather jacket, helping you into it before kissing you once more. You smiled against his lips, grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the farm.

It didn’t take long to find your friends—they were standing near the hot apple cider stand, holding paper cups of the steaming beverage and sharing from a cardboard dish of cider donuts. Yelena was the first to notice you and Bucky walking toward the group, your hands linked and you wearing his jacket. She turned to her older sister, pointing a finger in Natasha’s face as she screeched, “I told you! I told you it would work!” Cinnamon sugar spewed from the blonde’s mouth as she yelled and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off her chin before turning to Steve, who had his hand up for a high five, slapping her palm against his.

The corners of your mouth pulled down into a confused frown. “What’re you talking about Lena?”

But Yelena was too busy executing an elaborate victory dance to respond, so Steve chimed in with an explanation. “Yelena has been determined to make you guys admit you have feelings for each other—”

“That you love each other,” Yelena butted in, finally done with her dance. She passed one of the paper cups she’d been holding over to you and you wrapped both your hands around it, basking in the warmth while Bucky slid behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist. Yelena’s sharp green eyes watched it all.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered shaking his head at his friend’s little sister. “Anyway, she had a plan that we go through the haunted house and you’d get scared and Bucky would swoop in and protect you,” Steve finished. “Nat didn’t think it would work,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” the redhead said, shrugging unapologetically, but her eyes and smile were warm as she too didn’t miss the way Bucky touched you so easily. Your face heated, realizing both your friends had probably already surmised you’d slept with Bucky.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky started slowly, his eyes fixed on his best friend, completely unaware of the knowing looks Yelena and Natasha were giving the two of you. “You deliberately tortured my girl just to prove a point?”

Yelena squealed and looked at you with wide, excited eyes when Bucky called you his girl, almost drowning out the rest of his sentence. You couldn’t help the goofy grin plastered to your face in response, nor did you want to. Yelena raised her eyebrows in silent demand for more information, and you even caught Nat giving you the same look. You shot them both a look that said you’d tell them later.

The boys were completely oblivious of your exchange with your friends. “Well she wasn’t technically your girl yet—even if you’ve had a thing for her for a couple years,” Steve pointed out, his face twisting up like he was fighting to keep the guilt out of his expression.

You felt Bucky tense behind you and craned your neck to look up at him, taking a sip of your drink. He’d tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at Steve, anger simmering in his blue eyes. Even though he was facing off with his own friend, his gaze held more ire than you’d ever seen directed at you. If you thought about it, Bucky had usually had a kind of pained look on his face when he’d said those mean things to you. Sadness swept over you at the thought of all the time you’d wasted being jerks to each other. Unable to hold yourself back, you snuggled into him.

Your movement caught Bucky’s attention and he finally looked away from Steve, his face shifting before your eyes from a glare to an expression filled with affection. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned back to your friends with a much more relaxed look. Reaching out, he plucked a cider donut from the cardboard dish, holding it in front of you until you took it.

You took a big bite of the sweet pastry and groaned in happiness. Against your ass, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and you had to hide your smile behind another bite of donut.

“Semantics,” Bucky said in response to Steve’s comment, a smile on his lips as he watched you eat your donut happily. “Anyway, thanks to you all, I made a promise to my girl and I plan to keep it.”

“What promise?” Yelena asked, curiosity lighting her green eyes as her gaze bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. Your best friend was practically gleeful, but you knew it wasn’t just because she had been right and her plan had worked, you could see in her face that she was happy for you. As you sipped the hot apple cider she’d bought you, you realized you’d already forgiven her for the deception.

“Well actually it was two promises,” Bucky amended. You looked up at him in confusion. “I promised her all the apple cider and no more haunted houses.” Bucky leaned down, your lips bumping clumsily against each other as you both struggled to stop smiling long enough to kiss. But then Bucky’s tongue licked some of the cinnamon sugar from your lips and you had to choke back a moan as he kissed you possessively right there in front of your friends.

“Get a room,” Natasha jeered at the same time Yelena whooped and Steve clapped obnoxiously. You laughed against Bucky’s lips, pulling apart, warmth burning in your cheeks.

That wasn’t the last time your friends teased you and Bucky that night, but you were both too happy to care too much. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether he was wrapping an arm around your shoulders, linking his fingers with yours, or squeezing your butt as discretely as possible, he was always touching you. He kept it up through all the fall activities—the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and another round of apple cider and donuts.

And then at the end of the night, Bucky took you home and showed you again and again how happy you made him. Over the following days and months and years, he proved to that you could trust him to never be mean to get your attention again—and you showed him you’d never ignore him or your feelings for him. Bucky showered you with love and affection until the memories of you ignoring him and him being an asshole to get your attention were replaced entirely with happy ones.

He also kept his promises, taking you back to Barton’s Family Farm every year for all the apple cider and donuts you could eat—but always skipping the haunted house—kissing the sugar and cinnamon from your lips until you let him take you home.

[dietcokegirly12]

HELLO, I just read your fic called "Trapped" with Poe! omg i loved it, it was the best thing I've read so far. So...I'd love to ask you if you could do another NSFW fic with a fem reader It doesn't matter what it's about as long as it's sweet and has NSFW. Sorry if I didn't specify well 😭 I'm just desperate to read another fic with him, I loved your writing tysm! 💗

“First Time?”

featuring edgar allen poe (,,¬﹏¬,,)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

art credit: pinterest

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

tags: unprotected sex, cervix kissing, premature ejaculation, mention of masturbation, sub!poe, dom!reader, etc etc

word count: 2k

˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡

You and Poe had been dating for several months now, ever since you met at a library where he was working on a novel, and had captivated you with his awkward charm and boyish smile.

Immediately, you had begun to flirt with him, and after coming often to the library, eventually asked him out on a coffee date.

Your relationship had soared after that, always going on lavish dates with your doting boyfriend, and him constantly showering you in gifts and as much time as he could spare aside from writing novels where you would have cute little dates at the park, or ice-skating together, and truly he was the perfect boyfriend.

Aside from one minor problem.

You two had never… well had sex.

And you weren’t sure if it was because Poe was too shy to ask, or because he just didn’t want to, but you certainly didn’t want to push him if he was uncomfortable.

Of course, you two had kissed, even made out a few times, but it would never last long, with Poe blushing immensely and having to excuse himself where you wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Hell, you two had never even slept in the same bed.

On the rare occasions, you would sleep over, since he was always insisting on driving you home, he was always up late working, and when you would awake in the morning, he’d be curled up and asleep on the couch, ever the respectful gentleman.

You really didn’t want to believe it had something to do with you, or that you just didn’t appeal to him in that way, but it was getting increasingly harder to hold back as the days went on, and you got more and more pent up.

What you didn’t know was that every night, Poe would furiously fuck his fist, imagining it was your hand pumping up and down, and indulging in the dirty thoughts he had felt about you ever since your first kiss, horny and in need of any kind of release.

He refused, however to rush you in the relationship, conceding that you needed to take it slow, and he didn't need nor want you to feel pressured by him into doing anything you weren't comfortable with. No, you were his angel, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You would think he was starting to lose interest with the way he was almost never home, usually making himself busy with his writing.

Finally, you had enough, and in a last-ditch effort to get him to just touch you, you set up a movie night in his living room, draping the couch with lots of extra blankets and pillows to cuddle in.

"Poeee.. c'mere you've been working so hard, come watch a movie with me." you whine, tugging the raven-haired man closer when he finally came for a break.

He chuckled softly, caressing your cheek. "Okay.. sure, one movie."

You scoot over, so he can sit next to you, sighing internally as he made sure to stay a reasonable distance away, your thighs not even brushing.

As the movie progresses however, you shift closer, eager to put your plan into motion so that he won't be able to ignore you.

Gently, your hand slides up his thigh as you rest your head onto his shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen.

He stiffens slightly under your touch, but stays still, breathing turning slightly heavier.

A couple minutes tick by, and you move your hand slightly higher as you pretend to adjust yourself, until you're practically in his lap, hand dangerously close to where you knew the bulge in his pants was.

And just as your fingertips just barely ghost over him, he jolts like he's been shocked, quickly standing up as he hurries off to his room again, blushing furiously.

"M'sorry! Just remembered.. ah.. I forgot something or.. I need to... my book!"

And then he's gone.

You slump back against the couch, defeated but not ready to give up just yet.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

.˚‧˗ˏˋ ── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚.── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚

You genuinely thought that maybe it was something you were doing, or that he just wasn't attracted to you, which didn't make sense, because he told you almost every day how beautiful you were, like a creation straight out of one of his novels.

So, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you went to ask his best friend, his only friend, Ranpo Edogawa.

"Has Poe what?"

You blush, bending closer to the shorter man to whisper something into his shaggy brown hair.

"Has Poe ever had a girlfriend? Or had.. ah.. sex with anyone you would know of?"

Drawing back, Ranpo looks you up and down, smirking, emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. "What, you two haven't...?"

You swallow, shaking your head quickly. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want to..."

Ranpo grabs you quickly then, taking you by surprise as he widens his eyes in pretend shock, leading you to believe he knows more than he's letting on. "Oh, he wants you all right. He's always going on and on about the ways..."

"Ranpo?"

You turn your head, spotting your tall, awkwardly standing boyfriend, rubbing his arm as his gaze flicks over the two of you.

"What are you doing?"

As he steps closer, you quickly untangle yourself from Ranpo whose eyes dart between you both.

"Well, this was fun, but I have to get going back to the Agency. See you, Poe!" And with that, he dashes off, leaving just you and Poe alone.

Poe comes closer, eyes uncertainly scanning yours. "W-what were you doing with him?"

You quickly rush to explain, not wanting your poor boyfriend to think anything less than pure was going on. "Don't worry, baby! I was just asking Ranpo something a-about.. uh.."

He tilts his head. "He was saying something about someone wanting you?"

Sighing internally, knowing you weren't going to get away from this without an explanation, you quickly say in a rush,"Iwasaskinghimifyou everhadsex!"

He freezes at that, body going completely stock-still as his face flushes as it usually does when he gets flustered or embarrassed.

You quickly rush to apologize. "I'm so sorry. And I should've asked you but I.."

"No, it's fine." He cuts you off, voice strained and eyes unreadable as he gazes down at you.

Worried since you had never seen him make that expression, you reach for his hand, squeezing slightly. "Sorry. Let's just go home."

He nods numbly, and trails behind you as you lead both of you back to his apartment.

┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆

The whole walk back, you're thinking about ways to apologize for invading his space like that, feeling horrible. He's silent, simply holding your hand and seemingly lost in thought as his mind is elsewhere.

You imagine the worst. He hates you, is already thinking of ways to distance himself, thinks you're disgusting and a pervert, and... oh you're making yourself sick with the thought, wants to break up.

You prepare to make an apology as you shakily unlock the door, turning slightly to face him. "Poe, I'm truly so sorry-"

But you don't get to finish before his lips are clumsily smashing against yours, rough and unyielding as for the first time, he kisses you with passion, rather than his usual hesitance.

He licks the bottom of your lip softly and as you whimper softly in response, takes it as an invitation to mold his hot tongue to yours, pushing you back gently through the door, and closing it with a slam with his foot.

Gasping for breath, he draws away from your mouth barely enough to lift your hips onto the counter behind you, clumsily fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as he connects his desperate mouth back against yours,

"Fuck.. waited so.. mmph.. long. I just never thought you wanted to.. I didn't wanna rush.. ah fuck.."

He breaks off in an obscene moan, one you had never heard before, and one you never wanted to stop hearing, as your hands run lightly over his pants, trying to unbutton as fast as you can.

His head tilts back, beautiful hair falling back to reveal his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering softly.

Pushing his pants down past his hips, you finally reveal the pale, twitching cock you had been dreaming of for so long, slender and oh-so long, tip glossy with pre-cum and prominent veins tracing prettily all along him.

He shudders as you finally grip him, instinctively pumping up and down as his hips shift forward, a lewd groan slipping out of him.

"Please.. ngh.. c-can't wait.. wan' feel you."

His nimble hands come to tug lightly at your pants, clearly wanting them off, and you're all too eager to comply, undressing to reveal yourself, completely bare in front of him for the first time, full breasts and laced panties showing just how soaked you were for him.

He groans at the sight, hands shakily reaching for you again as he lifts you up to straddle him, hands immediately finding the plush of your thighs and breasts, gently squeezing everywhere he can reach, all too eager after being denied for so long of you.

And you just can't wait any longer, the throbbing in your sopping cunt becoming so intense, you feel as if you might die if he isn't inside you soon.

"Here Poe, jus' stay still.."

He grunts softly, hips jerking as his tip nudges at your entrance, you slowly sinking down on him, wincing as he stretches you so perfectly.

Before he's even halfway in, though, he's cumming, spurts of hot, white ribbons filling you up so filthily, so much of it that it begins to seep out of you, your mouth wide and head thrown back as you shudder at the feeling.

"Poe..." you gasp out, chest heaving. "Did you just...?"

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly in embarrassment, a small whine leaving his throat as you finally manage to sink all the way down, his length throbbing desperately inside you.

His hands come to fit over your hips, long fingers splaying across you as he practically pleads with you. "Fuck! M'sorry! Lemme make it up to you, doll!"

That being his only warning, he starts to bounce you up and down on his cock, tip brushing your cervix with every thrust as you moan softly, tugging on his hair as small cries of his name rush out of you.

He bounces you quicker, and reaches a hand down to explore over your cunt, fingers slightly uncoordinated, but learning fast as he quickly finds your clit, tracing over it sloppily.

Your eyes shut and a small whine escapes you as your hips instinctively buck forward, tightening around him, the slight angle change enough for him to hit even deeper into your snug walls.

He grunts, thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy as he prods at the squishy spot deep inside you that makes you squeal, your stomach coiling tighter with every thrust.

"Poe.. m'close.. m'close.. hah.. fuck m'cumming!"

And with that being your only warning, your cunt sucks him deeper as your walls ripple and tighten, syrupy arousal coating your thighs as you finally reach your high, white-hot blurring your vision.

"Fuck!" He curses before spilling more ropes of cum into you, being so full of him at this point you can barely breathe, every movement eliciting more of his cum to drip out from between your thighs obscenely.

You collapse onto his chest, sticky against him as your breath heaves, hair sweaty on your forehead.

After a few moments, he gently kisses your forehead, trying to relax but still restless under you, shifting slightly. "Fuck..."

"What is it?" You breathe, one hand coming to comb through his soft hair fanning across you.

It's just then that you feel something hard prodding into you again, before Poe's shy voice speaks up, his hips shifting to grind against you slightly.

"Can we.. do that again, maybe?"

[bonbelles]

˗ˏˋ fun hair imagines ˎˊ˗

prompt: (from my own lil brain) just messing with their hair, and their reaction

content: gn!reader, fluff, alcohol (kaeya).

characters included:

diluc

kaeya

alhaitham

kaveh

Diluc found yourself in his office when he returned from Mondstadt, organising his paperwork on his desk. Often, this was how you spent your free time - in a desperate bid for some form of business, you would tidy up the workspace of the Angel Share owner.

When Diluc walked into his office, you quickly vacated his chair, opting to stand and sort through the last pile of bills and letters. Now left with time to relax, Diluc simply put his head in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment.

Watching him (supposedly) rest, you noticed how dishevelled his hair had become, seemingly from a busy day behind the bar. Instinct took over you, and you took to tucking his hair behind his ear.

Diluc glanced up momentarily, before returning to his original position.

"Sorry, is this bothering you?" You asked him, retracting your hands from his face.

"No," he responded. "It's somewhat relaxing."

"So should I keep going?"

"Please."

As per usual, Kaeya finished his shift by going to Angel Share, and noticed you sitting at the bar upon his arrival.

"You're not one to drink this soon into the evening." While Kaeya was surprised by your appearance, he was taking advantage of some free time with you.

"It's been a day..." was your response, taking another sip of your drink afterwards. Kaeya merely laughed, before ordering himself a drink of his own.

While the two of you laughed and drank together, other regulars came and went. By the time the bar was closing, the two of you were the only barflies remaining.

"Come on," you said, slamming your empty glass on the counter. "It's about time we left, Kaeya."

"No, no, the night is only just beginning."

You exchanged eye contact with a subdued Diluc, who - you assumed - was desperate to leave himself. Turning back to Kaeya, unable to grasp Diluc's despair, you found yourself with no other choice.

Grabbing the back of Kaeya's hair, you dragged him out of the bar - the latter too intoxicated to protest. As soon as Diluc slammed the door, you let Kaeya go. He opted just to stare at you in amazement.

"Don't ask if I liked that," Kaeya said, starting the walk home.

In the bustling library of the Akademiya, Alhaitham's workload was tripled following the rescue of Lesser Lord Kusanali. As a result, he very rarely spent a night at home, much to Kaveh's frustration (as his roommate seemed to hoard his keys). As a result, the anguished architect asked you to try and get his housekeys back.

"You owe me; this'll be a challenge, Kaveh."

And, as you expected, as soon as you sat down on top of Alhaitham's cramped desk, he responded with: "Not now."

"Kaveh needs his keys."

"Not now," Alhaitham repeated, this time with a sense of lethargy following his speech.

"How much more do you have to do?"

Alhaitham pointed at four very highly stacked books. Definitely not work you two could do in one evening, let alone just Alhaitham.

"Come on, it can wait until tomorrow."

Alhaitham yawned, covering his mouth with his fist. Concerned, you glared at him until he reciprocated the eye contact.

Shaking his head, Alhaitham said: "It can't. It needs to be done tonight."

"You think you're getting all this done tonight? Five people couldn't do this in one night."

Alhaitham took a seat at his desk, ignoring your chatter in front of him. This was the wrong move, because as soon as Alhaitham sat down, his eyes started to close themselves, and they wouldn't stop.

Sitting on his lap, you took his head into your hands and started to stroke his hair. Quickly, he succumbed to the first sleep he had in a long time.

Never in his life would he admit to liking the moment you started stroking his hair.

After a while away, Kaveh had finally returned from his most recent architectural journey. You thought you would surprise him by cooking for him, to save Kaveh worrying about his evening. Alhaitham, as per usual, was away researching, leaving you alone to arrange everything perfectly for Kaveh's arrival home.

The opening door made you jump, Kaveh's loud greeting bringing a smile to your face.

"I'm back!" He shouted.

You purposely left the door unlocked, after Alhaitham gave you a set of keys before his departure.

Rushing around the table, setting plates of piping hot food down, you quickly yelled "don't come in yet!" across the house. Laughing, Kaveh stayed in the hallway.

When you were ready, you called Kaveh in, watching his face light up at the dishes covering the table. "You did all of this for me?" He asked, red filling his cheeks in admiration.

"Of course! Welcome home, Kaveh," you replied, breathing for the first time since he returned.

Taking a seat at the table, unsure of where to start, Kaveh looked over all of the meals before him. Approaching the table, you sat down next to him. Without thinking, just with the sheer joy of Kaveh's return in your mind, you took your hand and ruffled his hair, giggling at his awe over the food.

Kaveh stared at you, in confusion.

"Oh, sorry!" You said.

"Do it again."

[bucksangel]

i’m unsure if i’ve reblogged this already or not so i’m going to do it again just in case because this fic is just so. i literally have no words for this. the way you write steve and bucky is just so good and this fic is one i will always come back to

Steve’s Birthday Wish // Mafia!Steve x reader | Mafia!Bucky x reader

Summary: It was approaching Steve’s birthday and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests just asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants.

PART 2: WHEN TWO BECOME THREE

Warnings: 18+ readers only, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, masturbation, vibrator use, oral sex, multiple orgasms, desk sex, mentions of violence, praise kink, submissive reader, vaginal sex, fingering, creampie, cum shot

Word: 6.5k (oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Keep reading

[bucksangel]

ummmmm YESS i can relate to this first part of this heavily so bucky coming in (pun fully intended) and giving reader the night she deserves is so satisfying im screaming i want this😭😭

Bucky knows you’re faking. He has no idea where you met this guy or why you’re still with him, in fact Bucky almost feels sorry for him. Because this guy thinks he’s doing a good job. He thinks he’s making you cry from pleasure, he thinks he’s pulling orgasms from you left right and center but Bucky knows.

Becuase he’s heard you. Fucking smelled you.

In your room, all by yourself.

He hears every moan and whimper, all those noises you can’t hold back. The filthy squelching of your pussy making a mess on the sheets is a sound unmatched. You always smell so good after and he can’t get over how soft and sweet you are, all fucked out with a quiver in your voice, not realizing he knows exactly what you’ve been up to with those pretty fingers between your legs.

He’s seen the way you practically glow afterwards, a shy smile on your face, acting like you weren’t moaning like a bitch in heat minutes ago. Always when it’s well past midnight, coming down for a snack, a thin sheen of sweat still covering your skin. He’s usually in the kitchen, having to pretend his cock isn’t aching after hearing how pretty you sound, how desperate and loud you get when you think no one can hear you.

But he can.

Bucky grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, smirking when he heard your less than enthusiastic sounds and silence a few minutes later. He watched carefully as you made your way into the kitchen with nothing but a flimsy robe covering you, eyes growing wide when you realized you weren’t alone.

“Have a fun night?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, struggling to keep his eyes on your face and not the loose knot, so close to letting your robe fall open, giving him access to that pretty body-

“Oh-yes” you shrugged, suddenly feeling hot all over realizing Bucky had probably heard you, “I-um-I don’t think I’ll see him again”

“Why not” Bucky prodded, his curiosity piqued, self-restraint faltering, he couldn't hold back, not when that poor excuse of a robe was begging to be ripped off. “He can’t make you cum, can he princess”

“What?” You stared at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights, frozen on the spot, mouth gaping while he chuckled.

“I said-” he got up from his place at the kitchen island, biting his lip while backing you against the counter, your eyes growing wide feeling his hard, poorly contained bulge press onto you. "He can't make you cum? Can he?"

“I-" You stammered, gripping onto the edge of the counter, surely you were dreaming, there's no way this was really happening, all the fantasies you've thought of coming to life-

“Oh baby” Bucky cooed at your flustered state, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Don’t get all shy on me now bunny. Was that it? Did he make you cum?”

You shook your head, still nearly frozen like a baby deer, whimpering when Bucky groaned, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Knew you were faking it princess, I've heard you, y'know" Bucky smirked at your gasp, clearly mortified that he'd heard you during your most intimate moments. "Y'sound so pretty when you touch yourself baby"

"Bucky" You whined, not sure what you were begging for, arousal pooling between your legs, spreading your knees slightly to press yourself against his thigh.

"Tell me to stop" his jaw was clenched, gripping onto the single strange of restraint he had, his fingers toying with the knot of your robe.

"D-don't stop" You let out a shuddered breath, shivering when your robe was thrown off before you could blink, Bucky's lips smashing onto yours. His hand gripped the back of your neck, his tongue claiming your mouth as his, teeth nipping and sucking your lip. He lifted you onto the cool marble counter with ease, metal fingers swiping through your folds, gathering your slick before shoving them in his mouth, groaning at the taste.

"You're fuckin' sweet bunny" He didn't give you a chance to respond, prying your thighs apart and dipping down to lick a fat stripe through your soaked cunt before latching onto your clit. You cried out in pleasure, his wide shoulders keeping your legs spared apart.

"B-Bucky!!" Your head was thrown back when he shoved two fingers into you, curling and fucking them into you, moaning when you grabbed onto the roots of his hair, tugging harder the closer you got.

"Already sound so pretty baby" He let out a dark chuckle, kissing your pouty face when he pulled away just before you reached your high, tugging down his sweats to pull his cock out, "Bet you'd sound even better when you're stuffed, hm?"

"Please" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, practically humping yourself on him, desperate to be filled. His cock was curved towards his tummy, the swollen head dripping with precum. There was something about him still being fully dressed while you were stark naked in the middle of the kitchen that aroused you more, knowing damn well anyone could walk by at any given moment.

"You need a fat cock to cum around, don't you bunny? My bunny's such a little slut, she can't cum unless she has a fat cock fucking her brains out?" He taunted, loving the way you were nothing more than a babbling mess already, moaning when you felt his tip catch against your fluttering entrance.

"Please Bucky, need it"

"I know baby, I know, my poor baby needs cock, doesn't she" His eyes locked with yours as he started to breech your tight hole, your breath catching in your throat at the stretch.

"Breathe, s'just me baby, swear you got my cock so hard-shit" He hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, pulling out at an agonizing slow pace, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Faster Bucky, please-please need you" You tried to get him to move but he shook his head, feeling you flutter around him.

"First tell me what you call be princess, what do you call me when you're all alone with these sweet fingers"

Had Bucky not been holding onto you, you would have fainted; you had no idea he'd also heard the nights where you desperately moaned and came over and over again thinking of him. Bucky smirked against your skin, slowing down the drag of his cock again, snapping his hips suddenly making you squeal.

“C’mon darling, what was that you called me”

“DADDYY” you wailed, wrapping your thighs around his waist when he stated to pound you with a bruising grip around your waist, the clinks of glasses in the cupboards growing louder the harder he fucked you on the counter. "OH-GOD-D-DADDY"

"That's right, daddy's fuckin' you baby, makes me so hard when you call me that" Bucky groaned, thrusting faster, already on the brink of an orgasm. He could feel his cock swell each time you moaned or whimpered, his hand sneaking down to rub your clit.

"N'look at this precious clit, s'this what you're always playing with baby? Always rubbing this needy little button, thinking on one can hear you?"

"F-fuck Buckyyyy" Your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your cheeks when he rubbed you faster, your first orgasm choking his cock without warning. You couldn't formulate words, letting out silent screams, blinking pleasure consuming you.

"That's it baby, moan for me, cum for me, cum for your daddy baby, know you've never cum for anyone else, go on n'cum for daddy, make daddy proud" Bucky looked feral, grunting with each thrust, desperately holding off his own orgasm, needing to feel you cum around him over and over again.

"OH-DADDY-D-DON'T ST-STOPP"

"Look at you baby, such a good girl for daddy, giving daddy all of her cum" Bucky's eyes were wild, staring at where he cock split you open, his length and trimmed hair covered in your creamy mess. "Daddy wants all of his baby's cream sweets"

"OH FUCCCKK" You wailed, your juices squirting all over his crotch, making it impossible for Bucky to hold off any more as you clung into him.

"So fuckin' proud of you baby, made daddy's cock feel so good, y'know that? Y'make daddy so hard, so horny, you're gonna make daddy cum so hard angel, m'gonna cum so hard for you, Fuck-gonna fill you up bunny-take it-take my cum-fuck-FUCCKK" Bucky roared against your neck as streams of cum started to fill you, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. You were limp in his hold, passed out from pleasure, your combined mess dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

You didn't even realize you were tucked under the warmed blankets, wrapped up in a pair of thick, muscular arms, Bucky's large chest acting as a pillow. You nuzzled into him while he softly petted you hair, blissfully unaware it was just the start of a very long night.

[bucksangel]

i’m literally so in love with this like bucky being so protective and loving and caring i’m gonna scream😭😭

It's called: freefall

Bucky x Female reader

Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

Word count - 10k

Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.

A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.

________________________

"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."

Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.

"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.

It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.

You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.

Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."

You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.

You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.

"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.

You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.

Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.

His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.

Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.

"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.

"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."

You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.

You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."

He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."

"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.

"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.

"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.

"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."

You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"

"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."

Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"

"Dead."

You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.

"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.

"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.

"Wish me luck guys."

_______________________________________

You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.

Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.

You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.

The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.

You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.

You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.

You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.

"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."

Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.

The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.

You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.

It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.

The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.

"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.

Fuck, he smelled like sin too.

It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.

"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.

"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"

You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.

Women were to keep their heads down.

Which was bullshit.

"Okay."

He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.

Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.

It's just pretend.

You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.

"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.

"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."

Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.

"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.

You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.

You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.

You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.

"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.

You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.

He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.

As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.

"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.

Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.

"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.

"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.

They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.

"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."

This fucking guy-

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."

He was just as pissed as you were.

"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.

He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.

You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.

"She won't be a problem."

Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."

Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."

Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.

"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.

"Lucille."

A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."

At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.

Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.

"I happen to collect pretty things."

Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.

A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."

"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."

"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."

Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.

"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.

He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.

As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.

You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.

his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.

"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.

You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.

You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."

Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."

"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."

"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."

You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"

"Inside pocket, left side."

You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.

His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.

You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.

"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.

You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.

The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.

"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.

"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."

Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.

Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.

"Name?"

"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.

Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.

You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.

"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.

"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.

"Huh?"

His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."

Oh.

"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.

You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.

He didn't have to act so upset about it.

"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.

"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."

You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."

He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.

"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.

You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.

"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.

You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.

He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.

Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.

God, you drive him fucking crazy.

You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."

He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.

"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"

"Bucky."

He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.

The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.

Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.

At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.

It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.

His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.

You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.

They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.

Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.

He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.

You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.

Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.

"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."

You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.

The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.

You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.

Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.

There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.

"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"

You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"

He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."

You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.

"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.

"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.

You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"

"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."

His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.

By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.

You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.

He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.

You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.

This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.

"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.

"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.

You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.

It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.

It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.

"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.

His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.

You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.

You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.

"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.

He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.

So pretty.

"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"

"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.

"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right. 

"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."

By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.

You were his.

You wanted to be his.

He was yours completely.

He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.

You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.

The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.

You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.

You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.

You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.

He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.

His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.

Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.

He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.

His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.

He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes. Please, James."

He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.

You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.

"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.

He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."

Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.

He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.

You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.

You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.

You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.

You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.

"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.

"You don't have to take it off."

You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.

"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.

He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.

You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.

You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.

Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.

You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.

"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.

A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.

He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."

He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.

"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.

"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.

You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.

His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.

His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.

You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."

You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.

Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.

"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.

"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."

He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."

He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.

"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.

His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.

You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."

He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.

"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.

You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.

"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.

"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."

He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"

You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"

"Yes, I want that, so much."

"Good, let's make it official then."

He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.

"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.

"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.

"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."

"I can't wait, baby."

[bucksangel]

i am sjdjjslan not stable after this. i’m so looking forward to seeing more of them because i absolutely love this au!!

Lay Me Down

Pairing: Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human. Word Count: Over 3.6k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, swearing, possessive behavior, slight fluff, slight angst, mentions of violence, blood, and death, some world building (is that a warning?), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: @buckysdollforlife suggested vampire mob!Bucky to me after sharing a photo. With the encouragement of @jobean12-blog and @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , I ran with it and created THIS! Thanks to @dreamlessinparis and @sgt-seabass for listening and spitballing, along with @sweeterthanthis who also provided me with a delicious prompt near the end (we'll see it in the next part). Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Staring out the window at the city lights, you wondered how many were blissfully unaware of those who roamed in the shadows. They should consider themselves lucky. Peace existed between humans and supernatural creatures, but for a price. Clans and packs around the world required payment to keep the peace. Tomorrow, the Barnes clan will come to collect. 

The leader, James, affectionately nicknamed Bucky, didn’t ask for money or power. He had more than enough to survive long after most would leave this world. There was only one thing he demanded to continue protecting the eastern territory: you.

While clans and packs flourished, there had to be balance. Humanity and light needed to exist. Your father came from a powerful line with their own set of gifts and he often acted as a mediator between the families. 

He expected that someone would eventually lay claim to you, as much as he tried to shield you from his associates.

Special in your own way thanks to your blood.

"Be thankful it's the Barnes family."

You did consider yourself somewhat lucky. Your mom explained becoming a vampire was an honor and you would still be you at your core after the ceremony. While the marriage appeared to be transactional with Bucky gaining the use of your gifts, your husband-to-be did love you. 

You would know if he didn't.

"Your family will still thrive while you're in my care."

"And I'll be bound to you forever, James."

"Since we're in love and have an eternity awaiting us, I think it's time you call me Bucky."

A girl could do worse than Bucky Barnes.

You closed the curtain after a minute. Between the guards outside of your door and across the street keeping an eye on the building, you knew that you were safe for the night. Your phone got your attention as you crossed the room, recognizing the ringtone. "Hey, Bucky."

"You should be asleep, darling."

His face shimmered in your mind as the rich timbre of his voice filled your ears. Glacier-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw peppered with stubble to match his lush, dark brown hair. He trimmed it recently, but it was still long enough to sweep back. 

Masculine. Attractive. Beautiful. 

Everything most would expect from a vampire. 

"Then why did you call me?" you asked, sitting on the bed. 

He chuckled. "Because I hoped you'd be awake. You rushed off after the rehearsal and I wanted to check on you. I think everyone was a bit worried."

You sighed, letting your mental walls down long enough for your family to sense that you were okay. You hadn't meant to leave so abruptly, but you couldn't stay. The rehearsal reminded you that you'd no longer be human after tonight. Instead, your body would no longer age while your loved ones would grow old and pass on. 

Your parents. Your little brother. In a way, your wedding would be the beginning of letting them go.

Peace always comes with a price. 

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry any of you. I'll apologize to my family tomorrow."

Your dad insisted, no matter what, that you ate breakfast as a family. It would be your last meal with them. You would have to appreciate every bite and flavor of your favorite foods.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Bucky asked.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't do that to him or your family. "Just wondering if you'll get sick of me after a century or if it'll only take a decade."

"I won't get sick of you. Ever."

He spoke the truth. 

"Forever is a long time," you said, wiping an unexpected tear from the corner of your eye. 

"It is. Is it selfish that I don't want to spend it alone?"

"No. I think it's only natural that you want someone to share it with after everything," you said. 

Bucky had been through enough horrors to last a lifetime. Being the last of his bloodline after the slaughter of his family, he managed to rebuild his clan from dust and rise up in the ranks. It wasn't enough, as those in power often found. He craved companionship to chase the demons away. 

A mate. 

"Are you having second thoughts?" you asked. "You could have chosen Dolores as your bride or someone from another clan."

Some vampires had multiple partners, but Bucky wasn't one of them. His love didn't waver or wander. He devoted himself to you and would continue to do so in marriage.

"I don't want Dolores or another bride," he told you, not hiding the slight anger in his voice that you dared suggest that he would want anyone besides you. 

"I just know some aren't happy that you chose a human as your mate."

You weren't naive. Just because Bucky planned to turn you didn't mean all of the pure blood clans liked the idea of a human becoming one of them. Or that the Rogers clan offered to protect your dad's territory, too. In their eyes, you were weak. Even with your gifts. 

No one would dare make an attempt on your life on your wedding day at the risk of starting a war, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try later. That was only the vampires. The wolves were a different story. 

Loving Bucky is easy, but that didn't mean the road ahead would always be smooth. 

"You and I are happy. That's what matters. I will keep you safe," he said, leaving no room to argue.

"I know you will. Turning me will make me stronger, too, so we'll keep each other safe. Remember that," you reminded him.

"Like you'd let me forget," he said fondly. "I saw your protective streak the moment we met and I knew I wanted to share forever with you. Do you remember that day?"

"I do. You planned to kill my dad."

You remembered that day well. 

You stood outside your father’s office door once you pushed past the guards, ignoring their warnings that he was in an important meeting. They knew better than to argue with you and didn’t sense the danger lurking feet away. They should have. If your dad wasn’t careful, this conversation would be his last. You couldn’t let that happen.

"It's out of respect for you that I came here alone today, but you're trying my patience," a deep voice spoke to your father. 

You shook your head, telling yourself not to let the hypnotic tone distract you. 

"I have no information for you, James. I'm sorry."

You gasped. There wasn't a soul who didn't know who James Barnes was. Though he was a close associate of your father, he never laid eyes on you. Your dad didn't let any of his associates see you. 

"Alexander Pierce was killed after meeting with you and you received a large portion of his shares. And then you don't show when we call an emergency council session. The same session where an assassin tried to take Steve and I out with wooden bullets."

Steve Rogers, best friend to James. Another powerful vampire and name most feared. He was kind to your father from what you heard and a man of honor. 

"Alexander wasn't a good man and I didn't want to do business with him, but I didn't kill him or have him killed. His money means nothing to me. And I had nothing to do with the attack on you or Steve. Why would I do such a thing?” 

“My men haven't found evidence against anyone else. And in all the time I've known you, you haven't missed a meeting. Ever."

It was your fault he missed the meeting. 

"Your clan has been generous to my businesses for years," your dad reminded him. "Believe me when I say I’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by going against you and Steve."

“I want to believe you, I do, but I have to take action. You understand."

You stiffened before you yanked the door open and rushed inside. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Where the hell are the guards?" your dad asked, his eyes wide as he stood up from his desk chair. "You shouldn't be here. Get out. Now!"

He was never afraid.

The man across from him slowly rose to his feet. With his tall, broad build, he could’ve been mistaken for a wolf. Even with his back toward you, you sensed his power. You shivered when he turned his head toward you, his eyes the coldest you had ever seen. 

How could someone carry death in a stare?

“You must be the daughter.”

The dark, melodic voice threatened to bring you to your knees. You had spoken to vampires before, but none had ever affected you like this. “I am. And you must be James Barnes. Your reputation precedes you."

His gaze swept over you as you did the same to him. His elegant black suit looked tailored to perfection. Not a single hair was out of place. You had to admit he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Vampires had no right to be so pretty. 

And this vampire wanted you.

“I am. And I can see why your father refused to bring you to meetings or let us meet. The photos I've seen of you are beautiful, but they don't do you any justice.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. Men said whatever they could to get in your pants, but this man believed you were a vision of beauty. You couldn’t let that distract you.

“I’m the reason he missed the meeting.”

"What are you doing?" your dad asked in your mind. "We agreed not to say anything."

"It's the only way."

You didn’t see James move as you blinked, refusing to let him intimidate you when he stood in front of you and gripped your chin with a cold hand. “You smell good.”

“James, please," your dad begged, holding his hand out as the cabinet across the room flew open. He kept a range of weapons to use against various creatures if necessary. "Don't hurt my daughter."

“It’s okay, dad. He won't,” you said, which was enough to make your dad lower his hand before he could summon a weapon.

"You sure about that?" James asked.

"If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done that already," you said as your eyes locked with his. "And if you do, you won't get the answers you're looking for."

"I'm listening," he said, brushing a finger over your neck. 

“My dad didn't put a hit out on anyone. I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen the day of the meeting. Really bad. I begged him to stay home," you explained. 

"You're psychic?” he guessed as he loosened his grip. “I’m told your entire family has gifts.”

It was no secret that your father and mother possessed psychic abilities, like their ancestors had for many generations. Vampires had a tough time compelling you unlike regular humans. It made your bloodline special. A blessing or a curse depending on who you spoke to. 

"Not exactly. More like claircognizant. I can't see the future, but I just know things without any tangible evidence."

"That's convenient," James said.

"I can also sense feelings, like if someone is lying or has bad intentions. My instincts aren't wrong. They never have been,” you explained, nodding to your dad. “You had every intention of killing him before I walked in because you thought he betrayed you and your friend. He didn’t. Listen to my heart beat if you think I’m lying.”

The steady rhythm told him you were telling the truth.

"If you can sense my intentions, what do you think I want to do to you?"

"Everything," you whispered. "And you know my dad didn't do anything. You're just looking for someone to take your rage out on."

James raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “I’m sorry I suspected your father. He's a good man, but I've been burned in the past by people I thought were allies. You’ll have to understand that trust isn’t easy for me," he explained as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, not caring that your dad was watching. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth. "So you just knew he shouldn't go to the meeting."

"I did."

James hummed, sparing your dad a glance. "If these abilities of hers are that good, why have I not heard anything about them until now?"

"Because she's my daughter," he said, stepping around the desk when the vampire turned his attention back to you. "She isn't yours to use."

"We'll see about that." The flash of fangs when James smiled didn't frighten you. "What else can you do?"

"Have you heard of personal illusion?"

"Tell me more, darling."

"I was only going to kill your father if he set me up. I happen to like him," Bucky reminded you, making you blink the memory away. He wouldn't have been able to let a hit on him go unpunished. Your dad would've done the same. "Did you realize the danger you put yourself in by revealing to me what you could do?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a lecture about it later," you said, picturing Bucky smiling and shaking his head on the other end of the line. "But, thankfully, my dad didn't hold a grudge against you and I trusted you."

"Even when I suggested you sit in on my next deal to sniff out the rat? You still weren't suspicious of me?"

"Even then," you smiled. "I knew you needed answers, but you also wanted me around because I intrigued you."

"You still do."

Your dad didn't like the idea at first. As a telekinetic with limited telepathic ability, he admitted his gifts likely wouldn't find the culprit for Bucky. Not if he wanted it done quickly. You had a much better chance.

"Keep my daughter safe."

"You have my word."

Bucky instructed you to stay close to him, which meant he had you on his lap the moment he took a seat. A portion of the men wanted to fuck you, assuming you were a whore when Bucky didn't introduce you by name, and their intentions slightly overwhelmed you as they leered. Not that it took much of a push. They saw what you wanted them to see.

Steve Rogers was the only other one there who knew who you really were. 

"Stroke their egos, darling. They like that."

You stayed strong and played dumb, the way you were told to. Laughed at a joke here and stroked Bucky's hair there. You wondered if you played the part too well when you wiggled your hips in the vampire's lap, but you couldn't help your attraction to him.

Especially since he was a heartbeat away from taking you on the table. 

"Don't start what you can't finish," he warned you against your neck. "Business first."

You knew the moment Bucky brought up Alexander's death and the unsuccessful assassination of him and Steve that the leader of the Rumlow clan, Brock, was to blame. It would be discovered later that he double crossed Pierce and set up the hit in order to claim more territories. He was furious that the attempt failed, but cleaned up his tracks enough to go undetected by the others. Even Bucky hadn't known.

Brock would have taken you for the night and drained you dry if he had the chance. 

When you excused yourself, unable to hold the illusion of yourself you created for much longer, you winked and smiled playfully at the men. As you passed Brock's chair, you bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Bucky locked eyes with you as you pulled the door shut behind you. 

He dubbed it the "Kiss of Death". 

Because anyone who fucked with him wasn't going to leave in one piece. 

"That was the first night we made love," Bucky said, his voice moving along your skin as if he were there. 

You pressed your thighs together, but it didn't give you any relief. His voice alone puts you on the edge of bliss. "Would you call it 'making love'?"

"I fucked you and I made love to you."

You waited in Bucky's suite for hours after the meeting, which gave you a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It was devoid of anything personal, a strange mix of luxury and comfort. The only thing that gave away who the place belonged to was the family crest above the fireplace.

A beautiful, lonely room. 

You passed the time reading on the chaise lounge before the double doors flew open. Bucky's eyes glowed an unnatural blue as he walked in, his hair disarrayed and clothes covered in blood. Brock's blood. You felt the battle within him to claim you as his own or let you go on your way. You owed him no loyalty, yet you helped him. 

And you asked for nothing in return.

"Leave or I won't stop myself."

You stood up and faced him, wordlessly baring your neck. He wouldn't claim you without speaking to your parents, but the beast inside him raged. You were willing to satisfy him for the night.

It was only the beginning. 

"Never tasted anything as delicious as you. I nearly lost control."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing full well he dismissed any blood mistresses he had after he met you. 

"Only to the girl I love," he whispered. 

You touched your neck, knowing by heart where he bit you the first time. Buried deep inside your wet walls, he sank his fangs into your neck and took enough blood to satisfy his craving. Every cell in your body hummed with pleasure as he drank and left you dizzy and aching when he finished. 

"Can you feel how much I love you?" 

"I can," you whispered. 

You felt it in every glance, touch, kiss. Each whispered word against your ears, lips, and skin. He showered affection upon every inch of you until no place was left untouched. 

His love for you only grew when he asked for your hand in marriage after a few months. 

Once he spoke with your father and assured the protection of your family and territory, he agreed. Your little brother actually hugged Bucky when he heard the news and asked him to always be good to you. You may be his big sister, but he still felt the need to protect you. Bucky promised he would always take care of you. 

"You love me and my blood was so good, you put a ring on it," you teased. 

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound bringing a smile to your face. Hardly anyone made him laugh. "Yes, darling, you're just that good."

You held your hand up to look at the ring on your finger. The large, teardrop ruby flashed in the faint light. He chose it because it reminded him of blood and the promise you made to him.

The tiniest shackle to bind people together, but it wasn't heavy or a burden.

"And if I'm that good, I'll have you knocked up during our honeymoon."

"Bucky!" you smiled in spite of yourself, knowing your parents secretly wanted grandchildren. 

"What? With our bloodlines, our child might be stronger than both of us."

"Not might. Our child will be stronger than us if we have one," you said. 

Another reason why someone would want you dead or taken away from Bucky. 

"You said we'd keep each other safe. We'll protect our child, too."

"Why don't we concentrate on finding Steve a mate first and then kids?" you suggested.

"We can do both."

"I thought I needed to sleep," you smiled at his stubbornness.

"I'm giving you something to think about so you have good dreams. A beautiful wedding, blissful honeymoon, and bright future," he said. 

You knew you'd dream of him tonight. 

"Thank you, Bucky. I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Rest, my love. You need it."

You shivered at the underlying promise as you hung up. He was right. You needed to rest. If you let your thoughts consume you, you wouldn't get any sleep. Bucky didn't need a grouchy bride. 

Your phone dinged before you could set it down, seeing a message from the devil himself. 

"If you're reading this, you aren't sleeping. Bad girl."

You laughed as you typed back to him. "You did that on purpose."

"I may have. Since I have your attention…"

Oh, the three dots. This'll be good. 

"Tomorrow, on our wedding day, I'm going to recite my vows twice."

Your brows furrowed as you saw him typing more. Why would he recite them twice? To make the words sink in?

"Once at the altar. Once again in the bedroom."

Oh.

"With my tongue."

OH. 

"On your pussy."

Fuck.

"One letter at a time."

Fuck. Oh, fuck. No. I need to sleep. I don't need that image in my mind.

"You'll know in your soul that you're truly mine."

You tried to think of a coherent or witty response, but only one thing came to mind. 

"I love you, Bucky Barnes."

You set your phone down before you could see if he typed a response back. If he could make your knees weak, you'd do the same to him. Nothing made him weaker than your love. 

It also made him stronger.

Touching the empty spot beside you, you wished Bucky was there. Maybe he would surprise you and sneak in. If only to kiss your forehead and remind you that you were in this together. Because after tomorrow, there was no going back. You would belong to James Buchanan Barnes.

Forever.

We'll see our new couple again in future fic Down to Sleep. We may also get an alpha for another reader. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[bucksangel]

this is so amazing i can’t speak right now

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

[bucksangel]

i’m crying this is so cute i’m screaming actually

wallpaper

summary: bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1000

warnings: fluff, nonspecific friends to lovers, this was just a dumb idea i had

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The first time Bucky changed the wallpaper on your phone, it was an accident - kind of. He sat on your couch, lazily scrolling through the photos of Alpine you insisted he looked at, because you simply couldn’t resist having a Halloween photoshoot with her while he was off on yet another mission, leaving her in your trusting hands. He was happy you were in the kitchen, because he would never let you see the smile he wore as he browsed the album, chuckling silently to himself over how elaborate these photos were. His mood swiftly changed when he swiped incorrectly, an array of different options suddenly presenting themselves to him. He swore under his breath as he tried to make them go away, but he only made it worse as the option to change your wallpaper came up. With an annoyed huff, he just kept tapping, figuring that eventually he would get it back to how it was. After a few more grueling seconds, he sighed in relief as he was once more face to face with Alpine sitting inside a jack-o-lantern candy bucket - how was he supposed to know that photo was now both your lockscreen and homescreen?

“Did you change my lockscreen?” you curiously asked when you finally sat back down beside him, taking your phone and checking it for any new messages.

“Did I what?” he asked in confusion, his head snapping up from his own phone to look at you with a scrunched brow. 

You could only laugh lightly, turning your phone to display the new photo brandishing your screen. The second Bucky saw it, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as his face flushed ever so slightly. 

“I, uh- sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, your phone is just - it’s different than mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, your chuckles growing into more laughter as you realized it was also your homescreen. “It’s okay, Buck,” you assured softly, laughing quietly as you changed the photos back to their precursors. “It could have been worse, at least it’s not an embarrassing photo or something.” 

You were too busy fixing his mistake to notice the glint that sparkled in his eyes, a smirk growing on his face as your words gave him the most incredible idea he’s had in a while. 

The second time Bucky changed your wallpaper, it was very much not an accident. You left him your phone so he could look at the photos you took on your latest trip, unpacking your bags as he split his attention between listening to your stories and scrolling through a seemingly endless array of new pictures - which he truthfully enjoyed, but he was on a secret mission for the perfect, nondescript one to choose. 

“Again, Buck?” you giggled, flopping on the bed beside him as you took your phone back. 

“What?” he asked, just innocent and clueless enough to not raise any flags. 

“You and your fat thumbs, I swear,” you mumbled under your breath, changing the photos back once more, completely oblivious to his proud little smirk.

It took three more times for you to suspect that Bucky had started doing it on purpose, but your suspicions weren’t proven correct until he took a photo of you to display.

“Did you- when- really?” you stammered as you looked between him and your phone, half annoyed and half impressed because when did he even take this photo? 

He only grinned in response, laughing about how long he was able to do it under the pretense of it being an accident before running away in a fit of giggles, dodging the pillow you threw after him.

From that moment on, it became a game for him. 

Any opportunity that presented itself, Bucky snatched your phone and changed your displays to the most embarrassing and ridiculous photos of yourself.

A sunset was changed to you mid-sneeze. Alpine was changed to you post-nap. You partying with the gang was changed to an extreme close up of your face in that very photo. Louisiana docks were changed to you mid rant as you yelled at him to give you your phone back. A cherry blossom was changed to you passed out on the couch, wrapped up in a hoodie you stole from him and drooling all over the sleeve of it. 

As time went on, you stopped being surprised whenever it happened, and you grew to enjoy it. It was a silly thing, but it was a silly thing that only you and Bucky shared. It was a special thing, a cherished thing. It was your favourite thing.

Neither of you realized how the dynamic between the two of you started morphing into something else right in front of your very eyes. It was slow. It was gradual and complex and delicate and went unnoticed for almost a whole year. 

It was only noticed now, as Bucky took the opportunity to grab your phone as you slept soundly against his chest. It had been a while since he was able to get a chance to do this, and so he eagerly unlocked your phone, already running through different ideas of what picture to use. 

He was caught off guard when the picture staring back at him was from a few weeks ago. It was the day you finally convinced him to let you drive his bike after months of endless asking. It was a photo neither of you knew Sam took until later that night, when he sent it to both of you. 

It was you, sat in front of him on the bike and wrapped up in his arms, one securely planted on either side of you as his hands rested on yours, guiding you through everything as you both gleefully laughed at the fact that you actually managed to convince him to do this. 

For once, Bucky didn’t have the heart to change it. 

He couldn’t. 

It was his wallpaper, too. 

[bucksangel]

freaking out rn this is so fucking good and i’m SCREAMING

friend of a friend - b.b, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader x bucky barnes

summary: steve’s girl is feeling needy, maybe bucky can benefit from it too.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (m+f), masturbation (m), wet humping, cum play, praise, steve calls her a whore like once? language, exhibitionism, voyeurism??? slight oral fixation on readers part??? yeah okay that’s it.

word count: 2.7k

a little note: i missed the boys and felt particularly unhinged. also endgame ending doesn’t exist. anyway, it’s fuckin nasty and i’m going to hell xo

You like seeing Steve like this. Boisterous and carefree, sipping a beer on the couch. It's normal. He deserves it.

Bucky sits across from him, detailing his recent mission with Sam. Their weekly chats often turned out like this, in between a short period of reminiscing and talking about whatever game had been shown that week, it always comes back to work. There's a hint of longing in Steve's voice when they talk like this. You know he misses it, how couldn't he? Its all he's ever known. But he insists he's done, and you believe him.

You're not entirely sure where their conversation is now, having zoned out some time earlier. Sat between Steve's legs, head rested on his thigh your mind had easily drifted.

You can't help your slight obsession with Steve's thighs. Even in a simple pair of joggers, the stiff outline of his toned muscles are fully on display. Each expertly sculpted ridge shifts between your cheek each time he moves or laughs. It's distracting, more than that.

You often find yourself nuzzling into the soft material just to get closer to the part of him you love so much. Steve’s fingers catch a lock of you hair, twisting and pulling on it every now and again, the action both soothing and adding to the deep tension threatening to boil over in your stomach.

His booming laugh filters through the room, his thigh flexing beneath you once more. It’s not normal, you think to yourself as you not so subtly press your skin against him, the fabric swallowing your helpless whine.

You sit like this for most of the afternoon, until it slowly turns to evening. Desperate and whining quietly to yourself. Your thighs clench periodically, and you have to stop glancing at the clock, secretly hating yourself for wishing it was time for Bucky to leave.

You’re so wrapped up in keeping your arousal at bay, in the warmth of Steve’s thighs you don’t notice the slight lull in conversation, nor do you notice Bucky leave the room to get another beer.

Steve strokes your head for a moment, his fingers igniting your skin as they slowly trail across your jaw. He tilts your head until you’re looking at him, a small knowing smile on his face.

“You doin’ okay down there?” He smiles, his thumb strokes your chin ever so gently, but the touch alone is enough to make you want to cry. Your need for him is far beyond your control and at this point, you’d take what you can get.

You nod, sandwiched between his calloused fingers and warm thigh. He tsks quietly and releases your chin, shifting back in his seat to widen his thighs. He watches quietly as your wide eyes glisten, immediately fixating on his clothed crotch.

“I’ve been neglecting my girl.” He shakes his head a little, smile turning to a smirk as he marvels in how transfixed you are. “Does my baby need some attention?”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, your mouth opening instantly desperate to taste him. You nod slightly, lips wrapped around his thumb, fingers clutching his calf tightly. He pushes down on your tongue, slipping deeper into your mouth, groaning quietly when your throat vibrates around his digit as you moan.

That slight bit of relief is enough to calm you for a moment, but your need rears it’s desperate head and you know you need more. Steve doesn’t move when Bucky walks back in and hands him a fresh beer. He just thanks him, eyes never leaving you.

Bucky isn’t phased returning to his chair without question. The idea of Bucky spectating your desperate state should be embarrassing enough to make you snap away from Steve. Instead you suckle on his thumb even harsher, looking up at him as he sips from his beer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Steve pulls his thumb free, pressing it against your shining lip and more leans forward, the malted beverage heavy on his breath.

“M’gonna fill that pretty mouth up, just like you want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Surely he isn’t being serious. Not with Bucky watching you both. Somehow the thought doesn’t deter you as much as it adds to the growing arousal, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Your eyes flick to where Bucky is now seated. You'd believe he's as relaxed as Steve if it weren't for the beer bottle clutched between his white knuckles. His lips are slightly parted in curiosity, pretty blue eyes dark with promise, watching you and Steve.

“Go ahead.” Bucky says it so simply with an encouraging nod, taking a languid sip from his beer.

“You gonna show him how good you are for me?” You nod hurriedly, watching as he puts his beer down, and does only that.

“Gotta hear the words honey.” His hand rests on waistband of his sweats, waiting.

“Please.” You speak through your the foggy haze clouding your brain. “Let me suck your cock, Stevie.”

“Attagirl.” He pulls down the elastic, letting it rest just below his knees. He knows how much you love his thighs, and secretly loves the way you mark them up, claiming another part of him that he gives to you so willingly.

Unsurprisingly, you press your lips to his inner thighs the first chance you get. The light dusting of golden hair tickles your lips when you suck dark bruises onto his unmarred skin, lightly tracing them with a light scrape of your teeth, earning an illicit moan from him.

When you’ve had your fill of his broad thighs, they’re littered with tiny marks and the slightest indent of your teeth in certain places.

Your finger lightly traces the underside of his cock, trailing up to the head and stroking over the slit. It shines brightly under the dim light and you actually salivate knowing you get to taste him. You marvel at Steve’s dick each and every time you see it, it’s curve feels perfect inside of you, the slight girth stretching you out so fucking good, length hitting all the right spots.

You wrap your hand around him in a tight fist, squeezing at the base just how he likes. His head rests back on the couch cushion, exposing his neck. His muscular chest begins to rise and fall slightly quicker as you stroke him.

Finally, you sink your mouth onto him, not bothering to tease him any further, this is for you after all. He’s letting you suck him off in front of his best friend to satisfy your needs, the least you can do is make it worth while.

You bob your head, alternating between long slow strokes and quick harsh suckles. Your hands tug at him, twisting around what you can’t take, revelling in his slight reactions. The way his thighs tense beneath your fingers, the way he sucks in sharp breaths and shudders out increasingly loud groans.

You wonder for a second if this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. It spikes a sense of jealously in your chest and you swallow him down even further, not caring that it burns your throat. Pride blooms in your chest when he grips your hair, holding you in place, groaning deeply.

"So good. So good to me." His hips flex, pushing himself against that spot again. "You gonna be this good for Buck? You gonna suck his cock like a fuckin champ?"

You moan around him when he speaks, doing your very best to take him as deep as you possibly can. Your throat closes around him as you gag slightly, the slight brush of his hair ticking your skin.

"That's my girl." His hand rests over yours, hissing when your nails dig into his exposed thighs. He thrusts slowly into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat softly, watching as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

His thrusts grow harsher, as does his grip on your hair, but that hand covering yours, the way his thumb strokes reassurance into your skin keeps you grounded. You feel that familiar twitch in your throat as you prepare to take his load, but then he’s tapping you hand and pulling you away from him ever so gently.

You find yourself pouting, desperate to have him fill your mouth again, but then he looks behind you and speaks.

“Go see Buck, looks like he could use some help.” He swipes his thumb through the spit on your chin, and nods to his friend.

The carpet is plush beneath your burning knees and you find yourself crawling between the other man’s thighs. Bucky strokes himself slowly, watching you quietly with that predatory gaze.

He’s not as long as Steve, but where he lacks he makes up for it in girth. Soft veins protrude from beneath his weeping head and you’re sure if you look close enough, you’d see them pulsating with need.

You cover his hand with your own, watching him twitch in your palm, stroking him a few times in a tight grip. You lean forward and swipe your tongue across the rosy head, eyes solely on him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing, his cheeks flushed all sweet and red.

Your tongue is so warm and wet against him as you swirl it across his skin for a few moments before you finally take him in your mouth. It’s vastly different to Steve, the way your mouth stretches wider around him. His head prods the back of your throat slightly quicker, but the thickness has the same effect on your gag reflex.

You get lost in the unfamiliar taste, the slight musk that’s just so Bucky. Steve comes up behind you, tugging at your leggings, keeping you steady with one hand as he pulls them off with the other. He swipes them down, taking your ruined panties with them, discarding the soaked cotton and gripping your thighs, spreading you wider.

“God Steve, she’s a fucking pro.” Bucky’s usually deep voice is instead breathless when he speaks Steve over your shoulder. Steve chuckles knowingly, his hand caressing your bare skin.

“You hear that honey? You’re being so good for us.” You hum in acknowledgement, the praise going straight to your core.

For a moment he just stares at the slick coating your thighs, drawing small patterns across your skin. The moment is strangely intimate, made so by Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek as he slowly starts to thrust into your mouth.

You feel Steve’s hands resting on your ass before he spreads you open, cool air against your warm wet heat causing you to sigh. He licks a single stripe from your clit, right to your dripping hole, pausing to hear you moan around Bucky’s cock before he does it again and again and again until he’s nose deep in your pussy.

You brace your hands on Bucky’s thighs. breath coming in short pants out of your nose. Steve’s lips wrap around your swollen nub, suckling harshly as he shakes his head, the friction making your eyes roll. His nose prods at your hole, and your nerves are on fire.

You suck harder on Bucky’s cock, alternating between stroking him whilst you lick and suckle on his heavy balls. You feel the ghost of Steve’s fingers against your slit, whimpering when he slides a single finger in right to the knuckle. He works you open slowly, stretching your wet cunt around his finger before adding a second, hooking them inside of you.

Between Bucky fucking your throat and Steve lapping at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You want to whine when he pulls his mouth away from you, but the fullness of his fingers satisfies your simmering need.

“Look at you, letting my friend fuck your throat right in front of me.” His fingers don’t let up, bordering on the sweet side of harsh.

“Stevie, fuck that’s so good.” You sound as desperate as ever, lost in Steve and Bucky’s touch.

“Bet you’d let him fuck this pretty cunt if he asked, huh.” Of course you would. The thought alone is wildly arousing. Steve chuckles through his quiet grunts when you clench around him, curving his fingers ever so slightly.

“My pretty little whore.” He half chuckles, though it’s mostly a groan.

He sucks at your clit once more, fingers hooked inside of you and you’re a goner. You pull your mouth away from Bucky, stroking him instead as you gush slightly against Steve’s face. Bucky thrusts up into your hand at your loud moans that only spur Steve on, the orgasm so intense it makes your body slump against Bucky’s thigh.

You find the energy to take Bucky back into your mouth, letting him thrust against your tongue, taking what he needs.

His hips jut harshly, prodding the back of your throat. His hand moulds around the curve of your skull, fingers threaded through your hair guiding your movements. He’s quiet compared to Steve, not speaking unless it’s a quietly muttered fuck, or so good. Sometimes he’ll groan, deep and guttural, but others he’ll catch himself on the edge of a whimper.

Those are your favourite. Making a man as stoic and quiet as him whimper is soon to be your greatest triumph.

You brace yourself on his thighs, shifting one of your hands to wrap around his thick shaft. You work quickly against him, twisting and flicking your wrist, running your thumb just below his weeping head, pressing stray kisses to the bulging veins.

“Buck, put her on your lap” Steve speaks from behind you, squeezing your thigh before Bucky helps you up, manoeuvring your near boneless body on top of his thighs. The bright tip of his cock, smooth with a mix of precum and your spit, nudges your sensitive slit.

You flatten your palm on the underside of his dick, caging him in, grinding your slick cunt against him. He thrusts against you, chasing his release, resolve depleted as he whimpers into your neck. The sound alone is enough to send you over the edge. You keep your eyes on Steve as he watches your cunt writhe against Bucky. There’s a new hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never quite seen before.

Steve sits back on his calves, his fist working over his pretty dick as he watches you cum for a second time, only this time it’s against his best friends cock. He looks so pretty, with his hooded eyes and flushed cheeks all traces of his dominant nature drowned out by his desperation.

Bucky’s whimpers grow louder and his teeth brush against your skin. The hold he has on your hips tightens as his thrusts grow sloppy, and his teeth dig into your shoulder, a truly broken moan shattering through him as he cums. Ropes of white land on your mound, dripping down your slit. You can’t help but moan when he thrusts one final time, his sticky spend and your slick making a near diabolical sound

Moments later Steve, pushes himself up onto his knees, fucking his fist harshly, pushing himself over the edge with a deep, almost growl. You watch through tired eyes when he cums all over your messy cunt, faint droplets of white mingling with Bucks.

He leans back, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt, chest heaving. His fingers prod at your puffy slit one final time, swirling around in the mess three of you had made before he extends his hand to your already open mouth. You suck at them like a woman starved, tongue lapping at the digits until they’re instead slick with your spit.

A silence stretches between the three of you for a moment, before Steve stands, and ticks himself into his sweats. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So proud of you. You did so well.” His large hands cup your face, eyes searching yours for any discomfort. He finds none.

You watch him leave to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom whilst Bucky presses small kisses to your marked skin and thanks you. You hum, too dazed to speak. When Steve returns, Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with three bottles of water.

As you slump against the chair, Steve running a warm cloth over you and Bucky holding the water bottle to your lips, you look over at the clock again watching it tick, willing it to stop, hoping that Bucky doesn’t have to leave.

i think we all know by now everything i write sets back feminism a few hundred years. i’m very sorry and i will do it again.

[bucksangel]

i love this trope so so much this is so cute and sweet and i’m kicking my feet and giggling

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t. 

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state. 

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot. 

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.” 

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip. 

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you. 

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in. 

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds. 

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering. 

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step. 

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening. 

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in. 

The  next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans. 

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could. 

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission. 

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake. 

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep. 

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.” 

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in. 

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you. 

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission. 

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee. 

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?” 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” 

“Yes?” 

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.” 

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back. 

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together. 

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering. 

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.” 

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent. 

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together. 

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat. 

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark. 

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work. 

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage. 

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him. 

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it. 

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?” 

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms. 

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing. 

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it. 

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much. 

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick. 

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding. 

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone. 

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him. 

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you. 

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk. 

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -” 

“Absolute embarrassment -” 

“Can’t believe they let her in -” 

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him. 

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear. 

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music. 

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!” 

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost. 

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk. 

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-” 

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.” 

Was he still here? Fucking asshole. 

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist. 

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music. 

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it. 

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?” 

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose. 

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?” 

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away. 

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it? 

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut. 

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door. 

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step. 

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.” 

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop. 

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control. 

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?” 

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?” 

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs. 

“Sure.” He sighed. 

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.” 

“I’ll be right outside if you need-” 

“Stay.” 

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt. 

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place. 

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene 

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?” 

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water. 

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast. 

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water. 

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.” 

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something. 

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it? 

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.” 

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway. 

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break. 

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch. 

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow. 

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.” 

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring. 

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-” 

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised. 

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food. 

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled. 

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first. 

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him. 

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -” 

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -” 

“You’ll share with me, right doll?” 

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.” 

“Bucky -” Sam started. 

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-” 

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose. 

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping. 

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted. 

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest. 

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you. 

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t. 

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds. 

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone. 

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you. 

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed? 

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room. 

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip. 

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible. 

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see. 

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky. 

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.” 

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone. 

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver. 

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered. 

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did. 

“I miss you too.” 

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -” 

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” 

“What if I want to?” 

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter. 

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek. 

“You do?” 

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him. 

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.” 

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips. 

“Uh huh, I did,” 

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling. 

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.” 

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss. 

“How long?” 

“How long, what?” 

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses. 

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start. 

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you. 

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

“I guess we do, doll.” 

[bucksangel]

this is the cutest thing i’ve ever read like it’s so soft and sweet and lovely and i’m sjsjsksl

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

[bucksangel]

IM SCREAMING AND MELTING INTO A PUDDLE OF FLUFF

this is the PERFECT amount of fluff and smut and i am an absolute sucker for Respectful Steve™️

the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were. 

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved. 

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him. 

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside. 

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart. 

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door. 

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume. 

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent. 

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit. 

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life. 

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help. 

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up. 

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you. 

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup. 

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come. 

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged. 

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing. 

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him. 

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat. 

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve. 

The alpha next door was just so…sweet. 

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor. 

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet. 

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together. 

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard. 

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous. 

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun. 

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct  sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body. 

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically. 

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve. 

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due. 

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you. 

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it. 

“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock. 

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!” 

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more. 

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun. 

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway. 

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve. 

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength. 

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together. 

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes. 

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands. 

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges. 

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you. 

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his. 

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy. 

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped. 

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you. 

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound. 

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole. 

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body. 

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy. 

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?” 

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot. 

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach. 

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock. 

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in. 

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?” 

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.” 

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot. 

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it. 

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door. 

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible. 

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment. 

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words. 

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed. 

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt. 

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!” 

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.” 

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast. 

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver. 

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet. 

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips. 

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer. 

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot. 

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr. 

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him. 

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness. 

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him. 

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.” 

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.” 

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate. 

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

[bucksangel]

ok ok ok ok i love this SO MUCH AUHHH

Accidents Happen // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

Requested by: @theatrelove3000​ (thank you so much for the message! I hope your eye is doing better and I hope you enjoy this fic)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hints of winter solider, minor injuries/reader is injured, protectiveness, possessive behaviour, anxiety, pool sex, butt plugs, anal/vaginal sex, double penetration, handjob, multiple orgasms, sir kink, praise kink, size kink, bucky needs a hug, mentions of murder, not beta read

Words: 6.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

Keep reading

[bucksangel]

i’m gonna. scream. now

um i’m like totally normal about this it’s not sending me into an emotional frenzy not at all nope

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n:​​​ I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties. 

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be. 

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall. 

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job. 

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

The library really needed new ceiling tiles. 

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done. 

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes. 

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. 

Your jaw ticked. “Home.” 

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon. 

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.” 

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.” 

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.” 

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?” 

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.” 

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?” 

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned. 

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window. 

He was lucky you accepted bribes. 

~~

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.” 

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?” 

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend. 

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.” 

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?” 

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?” 

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time. 

Not that that sounded the least bit grand. 

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense. 

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?” 

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.” 

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.” 

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote. 

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text. 

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over. 

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.” 

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?” 

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.” 

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.” 

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible. 

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you. 

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice. 

The duality of man. 

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.” 

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.” 

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.” 

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.” 

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way. 

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.” 

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.” 

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips. 

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite. 

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back. 

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.” 

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?” 

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier. 

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small. 

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.” 

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks. 

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.” 

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.” 

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more. 

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.  

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.” 

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?” 

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.” 

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had. 

~~

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend. 

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes. 

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing. 

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met. 

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan. 

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house. 

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.” 

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore. 

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission. 

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went. 

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face. 

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?” 

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.” 

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.” 

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?” 

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection. 

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat. 

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.” 

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.” 

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied. 

He asked again how much you’d had to drink. 

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments. 

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” 

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.” 

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.” 

“M’not even that drunk!” 

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.” 

“Maybe I want to be in your room.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.” 

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?” 

“So much.” 

“How much?” 

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed. 

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat. 

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum. 

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.” 

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.” 

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.” 

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—” 

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.” 

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?” 

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.” 

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met. 

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating. 

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them? 

“Would you let me?” he responds. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you. 

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore. 

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted. 

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work. 

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered. 

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.” 

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out. 

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up. 

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating. 

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

~~

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming 

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one. 

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it. 

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it. 

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one. 

From: University Peer Assistance Program 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours. 

Thank you, 

University Peer Assistance 

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on. 

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you. 

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible? 

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls. 

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you? 

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine. 

His mistake. 

That word felt wrong. 

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs. 

Ice cream would fix this. 

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off. 

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head. 

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register. 

“Nice outfit.” 

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good. 

“Thanks,” you quietly replied. 

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?” 

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.” 

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.” 

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked. 

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort. 

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.” 

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist. 

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels. 

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip. 

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.” 

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight. 

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine. 

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” 

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again. 

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist. 

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.” 

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work. 

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again. 

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking. 

“Please let go of me.” 

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it. 

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes. 

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled. 

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.” 

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?” 

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting. 

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither. 

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking? 

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor. 

“Look at me, y/n.” 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. 

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed. 

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?” 

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine. 

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.” 

“Of course.” 

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high. 

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him. 

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.” 

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.” 

“You get harassed all the time too?” 

“No…” 

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.” 

“Bucky—” 

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.” 

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go. 

“I’m not following,” you finally relented. 

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off. 

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.” 

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks. 

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less. 

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.” 

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful. 

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about” 

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.” 

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—” 

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?” 

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring. 

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.” 

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that. 

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.” 

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground. 

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.” 

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.” 

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache. 

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.” 

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.” 

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.” 

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

[bucksangel]

i’m f r o t h i ng HOW are you able to write so good and give me things i didnt even know i needed

18+

Mob Bucky x virgin reader 

If you’re wondering how bad my procrastination is, I started this in November. Anyway, I forgot to add some lines from a different fic here. There’s no plot here, literally just a scene I imagined. Please read the warnings. 

Warnings: dub con, degrading, virginity taking, innocence kink, mentions of blood, horny, feral Bucky is a warning, porn and little plot. Honestly, no plot. 

-

He knew he wanted you from the moment he saw you. Cute little sun dresses, beautiful eyes, your perfect lips, every single one of your delicate features making him crave to have you. He didn’t know what to do with himself the day he found out you were a virgin; you said it so quietly he would have missed it if you weren’t curled up on his lap. 

“My sweet innocent baby” He cooed, trying his best to contain his erection, desperate to fill you. “No ones ever touched you?” 

N-no” You shook your head keeping it buried against his neck while your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You were told to wait until marriage to do anything so you did exactly as you were told. It hadn't been a problem up until now, your heart rate beating faster, squeezing your thighs together to make that feeling go away. He was intoxicating; rough fingers tracing over your smooth skin, skimming up to the hem of your dress.

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