#Bucky Barnes x fem reader

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence and inappropriate language. To the readers, I’d like to ask for your engagement with this chapter. I know it took me a while to write this chapter, but I just wanted to let you all know that the next one will be the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read this fanfic.

EIGHT

NINE

The last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions—ones you were desperately trying to ignore as you got ready for the ball organized by your mother and your newly acquired stepfather. Natasha had picked out everything for you: a dress, an exquisite mask, even the shoes. Yet, all you could think about was the fact that Barnes would be taken into custody by Steve once this was all over.

"Need some help?" Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as he stepped into the room Steve had given you.

You were indeed struggling to fasten the back of your dress. But when you turned to face him, your concerns spilled out instead. "I don’t want you to be arrested, Bucky," you admitted softly as he took a step closer.

"Would it ease your mind to know that I won’t actually be imprisoned?" he murmured, turning you gently so he could reach the clasp of your dress. His cold fingers brushed against your skin, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

"Those I work for will find me the moment Steve locks me away," Bucky continued, his voice low and steady. "They’ll erase every trace of me, take me back with them. Probably interrogate me until they know exactly how much I’ve exposed… and then—"

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours in the mirror, searching for the right way to say it.

"They’ll kill you," you whispered, the weight of those words pressing into your chest like a knife. Just saying it aloud felt like an unbearable truth.

"Convince Steve not to turn you in," you pleaded, staring at your own reflection, at the way his presence loomed behind you like a shadow you couldn't escape.

Bucky let out a breath, his expression heavy with something almost resigned. "Steve has principles bigger than the world itself. He’d help me, I know he would. But it would cost him—his honor, his integrity. I can’t ask that of him." And you realized, with a sinking feeling, that he meant it. He would rather die than let Steve compromise the very morals that made him who he was.

"Then I will," you say, feeling the final tug as Bucky finishes fastening your dress. He hesitates, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"I’ll stop Steve from getting to you. Run. Don’t look back," you tell him, your voice unsteady, though you're not entirely sure why. A lump rises in your throat, threatening to spill into tears you refuse to shed.

Bucky studies you for a moment before his fingers brush against your cheek, a rare tenderness in his touch. "I can’t ask you to do that," he murmurs.

"You don’t have to," you reply, taking his hand in yours and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I’m doing it." There is no hesitation in your voice, only certainty.

"You have no idea what I’d give to have met you in another life, under different circumstances," Bucky murmurs, his gaze soft as it lingers on you. You take a breath, gathering the courage to lean in, closing the small space between you. Your lips meet his—gently, almost timidly.

“Take care, Barnes—and don’t you dare risk your life by looking back,” you say the moment your lips part from his. Though your tone is confident, you know that whatever plan you manage to pull off to keep Steve from arresting Bucky might endanger not only yourself, but Steve as well. Which means Bucky could be reckless enough to stay. A heavy silence settles between you, thick with everything left unsaid—until a knock at the door breaks through it.

“It’s showtime,” Natasha says, stepping inside just enough to glance between the two of you. “Steve’s already waiting in the car, princess.”

You look at Bucky one last time, and there’s a melancholic ache behind it—saying goodbye to someone who’s marked your life so deeply always feels like losing a piece of yourself.

As you pass by Natasha, pausing by the door before stepping out, you lean in slightly and whisper, “Keep Bucky alive, if you can.” She meets your eyes, nods once, and says nothing. But the look is enough.

“How can you be so sure?” Steve asks, clearly uneasy—almost flinching under your touch.

You gently brush your fingers across his face in a soft caress before replying, “Because you’ll be there to protect me.”

He shakes his head slightly, as if disapproving of the faith you place in him. “You shouldn’t put so much trust in me,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately in his. Maybe you shouldn’t trust any part of this plan—but whether out of foolishness or courage, you choose to believe it will all work out.

The two of you make your way to the grand ballroom where your mother’s event is already in full swing. The venue is extravagantly elegant, luxury radiating from every corner—exactly the kind of over-the-top display your mother thrives on. The plan is straightforward: capture Alexander Pierce’s confession on record, and Steve will arrest him. All you need to do is find a way to keep Steve distracted long enough to prevent him from arresting Bucky.

“You two are the most beautiful couple I’ve ever seen,” your mother gushes, approaching and embracing you both warmly. You and Steve exchange a loaded glance.

"Where's your other half?" you ask with a slight smile, trying to steer the conversation away before your mother says anything more about how well you and Steve suit each other.

"He's inside with a few guests," she replies casually, though there's a glint in her eyes. "But he did mention he'd be waiting for the two of you in the private office at the back of the ballroom. I don’t want to pressure you, darling, but I think he’s rather curious about Steve’s intentions toward you.” You and Steve exchange a quick glance.

Steve offers a polite smile and says, "I can assure you, my intentions are the best. But I believe there's a party we should be enjoying first," he adds, wrapping his arm gently around your waist and guiding you into the ballroom. The room is filled with elegant chatter, live music, and the clinking of glasses. Your mother disappears into the crowd as you're swept into the glittering chaos.

"Remember, as per the plan—we lure Alexander somewhere quiet and get a confession out of him," Steve whispers close to your ear as he pulls you onto the dance floor. "Natasha and our other ally are listening in on everything through the wire we’re wearing. Do whatever it takes to get Pierce to incriminate himself."

"Promise me you’ll follow my lead, no matter what, so I can get him to confess," you say, fully aware that the impossible task of making Pierce admit to being the most despicable of men has fallen squarely on your shoulders.

Steve steps in closer, his grip tightening around your waist, sending a wave of heat through you from the nearness of your bodies. "As long as you stay out of danger, I’ll follow you like a loyal hound," he says, placing his trust entirely in you. It might not make sense—he's the one with years of experience, the one trained to navigate manipulation and subterfuge—but you both agreed: if you led the conversation, Pierce would be less likely to suspect a trap.

Then, you spot Alexander Pierce approaching, and instinctively, you pull Steve into a kiss—cutting the moment short and shifting the attention. Steve responds with devotion, the kind of kiss that says more than either of you dare to admit. It's strange, the thought that Bucky might be watching all of this unfold. But as your lips part from Steve’s, you force yourself back into focus.

"Am I interrupting the lovebirds?" Mr. Pierce asks as he nears, a charming smile on his lips and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Not at all, Mr. Pierce. Y/N and I were just dancing. Beautiful party, I must say," Steve replies, keeping you close, as though he’s reluctant to let you slip away.

“The compliments go more to my lovely wife than to me in this case,” Alexander says with a polished smile. “Now, if you’ll both be so kind as to accompany me.”

You and Steve follow him through the glittering crowd until he leads you into a private office, far from the noise of the celebration. As soon as the door shuts behind you with a soft click, unease curls in your stomach. “This place feels… unusually secluded,” you say, glancing around the quiet room.

“My apologies,” Alexander replies, his voice dripping with false politeness, “but I’d rather not have my guests overhear when I put a bullet in each of you.”

He raises a gun and points it directly at Steve. You move instinctively, but his aim shifts to you instead—stopping you cold. “What do you think you’re—” you begin, heart racing.

“Don’t waste your breath, darling,” he cuts you off. “I know exactly who your charming prince here works for. And I also know you've gotten yourself quite involved with James Barnes.” His eyes glint with something cruel—something venomous—as the weapon stays trained on you.

"You know," you begin, voice steady though your pulse races, "you’re right. He works for the police or something—wants to throw you in prison, obviously. But you don’t have all the pieces yet. James Barnes and I? We're not actually involved. Honestly, he talked me into coming here with this suit-and-tie boy scout just to help wipe you out. But I have no interest in getting tangled in your business."

You take slow, deliberate steps toward Alexander, watching Steve from the corner of your eye. He's tense—confused—but says nothing yet.

"If you don’t believe me, let me prove I’m not with them," you offer, your voice almost tender, persuasive. Alexander narrows his eyes, studying you. Then, after a heartbeat of silence, he smirks and hands you the weapon.

"Prove it," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Get rid of him, and then we’ll talk." Your fingers close around the cold metal, and for a moment your entire body trembles. You turn slowly, lifting the gun toward Steve. He doesn’t flinch. He just looks at you—really looks—his blue eyes unreadable, but ready.

“Don’t do this, Y/N,” Steve says quietly. There’s no anger in his tone—just a steady conviction, like he believes you’re lost, not a traitor.

You say nothing. And then the shot rings out. Steve stumbles backward, a red bloom spreading across his shirt, and collapses to the floor.

Alexander’s chuckle fills the room. “Well done,” he murmurs. You stand there, the weight of the gun in your hand, your heart beating louder than the music outside. But inside, where no one can see—something is shifting. The plan isn’t over. Not yet.

"Now, I need you to lure Mr. Barnes here," Alexander says, locking eyes with you. You're doing everything you can to stay composed, to keep your breathing even despite the adrenaline.

"I assume you'll frame him like you did before?" you finally manage to ask, steadying your voice just enough to sound curious rather than shaken.

A smile curls on Pierce’s lips, cruel and satisfied. “You’re sharp. I like that. Yes, I can easily convince everyone that Barnes killed Rogers—just like I made them believe he was a corrupt agent.” He chuckles bitterly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “If only your little fling had agreed to work for me instead of playing the hero. Foolish, really.”

He doesn’t notice how tightly you’re gripping the gun. But now, with his confession out in the open and the wire still live, all you have to do is keep him talking.

“He’s the man you’ll never be, Mr. Pierce,” you state firmly, now raising the gun toward him. Alexander stiffens, caught off guard.

“Now, say hello to the cameras,” you add, stepping aside just enough to reveal one of the discreetly planted cameras in the corner of the office. For a moment, he falters—jaw clenched, eyes flicking toward the lens.

“I know when I’ve been beaten,” he mutters, almost amused. “But did you really think I wouldn’t have a plan B, darling?”

Before you can react, he grabs a briefcase from beneath the desk and lunges toward you. A sharp pain erupts in your stomach—white-hot, blinding. You gasp as the blade sinks in, your body jolting. Pierce is already sprinting for the exit.

You drop to your knees, your hand pressing to the wound as warm blood spills through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you. The room begins to spin. It’s hard to breathe. Your body trembles, your vision blurs—but somewhere, in the distance, you hear the rush of footsteps approaching.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Kitten | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You want a new kitten, but Bucky doesn't.. So you get a new kitten.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Rules for Requesting **

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

"We are not getting a kitten."

You pout, "Bucky, please." You swipe through the adoption photos of kittens at your local shelter, "Look at them, they are so cute!"

"Yeah well they aren't cute when you have to clean up after them and they claw at your furniture." He says getting off the couch, trying to separate himself from this conversation. He knows he has a weakness. He's not a fan of telling you no. But this? A kitten? He thinks he could. He wasn't a fan of cats.

You immediately hop off the couch and follow him, "I'll keep their nails trimmed. We will get plenty of cat trees and scratching posts so it won't claw at the furniture! Come on Bucky, please?" Your bottom lip pops out in a pout.

He turns to face you and groans at the sight, "Doll, come on. Don't pull the pout. We just got settled into our apartment. Don't you want to enjoy it before adding new additions?"

You continue to pout, holding the phone out to him, "Look at his little face. He's so cute!"

He sighs, obliging to take the phone and look at the photo, "He's just going to grow up to be this fat house cat. He won't stay little for long."

"He'll be fat, happy and loved."

"What am I going to do with you?" He questions and can't help but smile as he cups your cheeks, "You're my weakness. I can't say no to you."

You smile in victory knowing you've probably won, "I'm irresistible."

His smile doesn't falter, "On this though? I'm gonna have to say no. No kitten."

~

~

"Oh Bucky look how cute he is!"

Bucky has his grumpy face on as you hand him the kitten. It looks so small against his large chest. "Yes, yes so cute," He grumbles, but cradles the kitten against him, giving it a little pet. The kitten purrs and rubs its face against Bucky's chin. He can't help but feel the ice melting away. It was pretty cute.

You two walked out of the shelter with the kitten.

Later that evening, you three are cuddled on the couch. The tiny orange kitten that Bucky didn't want, but was winning him over, curled up on Bucky's chest and you were curled against his side.

You reach over and pet the small kitten, "He seems to like you."

Bucky tilts his head down to look at the kitten, petting his head with his finger, "He's growing on me."

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments, likes and reblogs always appreciated and welcomed! x

[ro-is-struggling]

Breakfast Is Served || Stucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky decides to have you for breakfast. When Steve interrupts you, he asks him to join in and the both of them feast on you. 

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, Porn without plot (like there's literally no plot, just filth), dom!Bucky (trust me, it’s a warning), fingering, edging, oral sex (f & m receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, slight degradation/name calling (slut), cum play kinda, praise kink, overstimulation, threesome, fluff at the end. No real Stucky action, just them having their fun with the reader ;) (although Bucky kinda fucks them both in a way👀)

English is not my first language

Word count: 7800

Notes: it's my first time writing both a threesome and a Stucky x Reader fic so I'm sorry if it sucks :(

Also this is a direct continuation of Let Me Help so READ PART 1 HERE

Bucky's hand traveled from your hip to your ass, squeezing your flesh over the thin fabric of your pajama pants before giving you a spank. It wasn't hard, just enough to awaken a tingling sensation on your skin, but you still let out a moan. It was more from surprise than pain, jumping in place as soon as his hand made contact with your backside. Your eyes darted down the hallway, checking to make sure Steve didn't emerge from the bathroom before pushing your hips back, making contact with Bucky's semi-hard cock. 

It was wrong. You knew it was wrong. Steve and Bucky were your friends and you weren't supposed to play with them like that. Not only had you betrayed your agreement with Bucky, but you had dragged Steve into the middle of it all. You were a horrible person, a depraved whore, but you couldn't help but feel a desperate attraction to both of them and you were tired of hiding it. Screw your friendship! This was more fun anyway.

"Did you enjoy making him cum?" Bucky growled in your ear, planting a couple of wet kisses along your neck before pulling away only a few inches so he could remove your pants. You put up no resistance, letting him do whatever he wanted with you. "Of course you did, you dirty little slut. You're soaking through your panties." 

Bucky's fingers stroked your pussy over the small cotton fabric covering you, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves that was desperate for some friction. It felt wonderful, but it wasn't enough. You needed more, much more. Your pussy was aching for relief and a simple rubbing over your panties wasn't going to get you there.

"Bucky, please." You whimpered, grinding your hips against his hand in a desperate attempt to create more friction. Maybe if he was quick you could get the relief you so desperately craved before Steve interrupted you. 

"What is it, doll? You wanna cum, is that it?" He sounded so condescending that you were sure if you were in any other situation you would have hit him for talking to you that way. But at that moment you were too desperate to pretend that his teasing tone didn't turn you on. "Are you that desperate that you don't even care if Steve walks in on us?" 

"He won't if you're quick, Bucky, pleaseee." You begged him, feeling tears of frustration begin to form in your eyes. You were ready to cry if that's what he wanted, anything to feel his hands exploring your body as he brought you to that sweet relief.

"And what makes you think you deserve to cum?" You could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying torturing you, raising your hopes as he pushed your panties aside only to move his fingers up and down your wet folds avoiding the place where you needed him most. 

"Only good girls get to cum and you've been a very, very bad girl." The rasp in his voice did nothing to ease the pressure in your stomach, it only added fuel to the fire burning inside you.

You wanted to cry, the frustration mixed with the excitement was starting to become too much. You needed relief and you needed it now, you were willing to do anything to get it. You opened your mouth to beg one more time, at this point you knew how much Bucky enjoyed it. However, the only thing that came out of your mouth was a moan of surprise as you felt Bucky's index and middle fingers suddenly thrust into your dripping hole. 

Your velvety walls welcomed them gladly, your pussy crying out in pleasure as you finally got the attention you so desperately needed. When Bucky curved his fingers inside you, he reached that soft, spongy part inside you that made you see stars. You dropped onto the counter, eyes closed as you bit down on your arm to keep from moaning. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body, pure electricity traveling through your veins as your warm, wet walls clenched over Bucky's fingers, clinging desperately to them in an attempt to hold them in place until you got the relief you so desperately needed.

"Why didn't you tell me you liked Steve, doll?" Bucky's deep voice echoed behind you, the fingers of his free hand entwining in your hair and tugging the strands until he brought your ear close to his mouth. "The three of us could have had some fun... Oh you like the sound of that, don't you, doll? Of course you do, you naughty little slut."

"F-fuck, Bucky, please... I'm so close." You begged, feeling your orgasm approaching. Every word out of Bucky's mouth, every gasp or degrading nickname went straight to your center, his filthy mouth working together with his fingers to push you closer and closer to the edge. 

"You wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my fingers?" You nodded fervently, mumbling incoherently as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten with each movement of his fingers. You were so close you could feel the force of your orgasm struggling to break free.

"Well, too bad."

And just like that, Bucky removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you unsatisfied and confused. You couldn't contain the frustrated whimper that escaped your lips, tears building up your eyes as your pussy tightened around nothing, missing Bucky's long fingers.

"Bucky, what the hell?" you tried not to scream so as not to alert Steve, but the annoyance was clear in your voice. 

"I told you, doll, only good girls get to come." He kept eye contact with you as he brought his fingers to his mouth, savoring your taste on his skin as he moaned against his digits. You couldn't look away even though you wanted to, mesmerized by the sensual flick of his tongue. He gave you a cocky smile before returning to his place at the table, closing the newspaper that had been left forgotten there and folding it in two as if preparing to go about his morning routine.

"Bucky we don't have time for this. Steve is gonna come out of the shower any minute now."

"That didn't seem to matter to you two seconds ago." You let out a snort at the arrogance in his voice, shaking your head as you prepared to disappear into your room to take matters into your own hands. However, Bucky didn't let you get past him, closing his fingers around your arm to stop you. "I didn't say you could leave. I'm not done with you yet." 

And just like that, he had you under his spell again. 

You let him pull you closer to him, enjoying the way his hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of skin in their path. His playful fingers slipped underneath your pajama top, up your stomach until they reached your breasts. Your nipples reacted to his touch immediately, hardening under his palms. When he pinched them, you bit your lip to keep from letting out a moan.

You didn't question him when he removed your panties, you just reveled in the softness of his caresses as he moved the piece of fabric down your legs. Once they were on the floor you stepped out of them, letting Bucky settle you on the table in front of him with your legs spread and your pussy exposed to his hungry gaze. The blue in his eyes had darkened letting you know how desperate he was for you. 

"I'm hungry, doll. You interrupted my breakfast and now you're not leaving this table until I'm satisfied." Bucky didn't give you time to react, he just dove right between your legs, lapping up your juices like a man starving.

Your hands flew to his hair, pressing his face against your center to make sure he didn't go anywhere this time. His tongue was very skilled and knew exactly what to do to make a mess of you. Granted, you were already very sensitive from all the edging, so you weren't going to last long anyway, but you knew full well that even if you weren't so desperate, Bucky was capable of taking you over the edge at record speed with his sinful tongue. 

When he caught your clit between his lips and sucked you let out a loud moan. Your back was to the hallway, so you momentarily forgot about the possibility of Steve appearing there at any moment. The whole world around you ceased to exist as you felt your orgasm approaching for the second time. 

Your thighs closed around Bucky's head, trapping him in place as your body began to shake with pleasure. It felt as if your orgasm was going to be too intense and for a moment you panicked. You tried to pull away from Bucky to catch your breath and give your body some time to prepare for what was to come, but he wouldn't let you. His hands closed over your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place. 

"Fuck, Bucky, I can't... 's too much." You mumbled incoherently, but he didn't stop. He showed you no mercy as he licked your pussy like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever tasted, taking what he wanted from you. 

However, fate forced him to give you a break when Steve's horrified and embarrassed voice brought you back to the real world. The blond apologized awkwardly, unsure of how to react to such a situation. He had made the mistake of entering the room while drying his hair with a towel after his much-needed shower and didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

"Don't be sorry, Steve. You're just on time for breakfast." Bucky spoke, emerging from between your legs to look at his friend. He moved his chair to the side, leaving a space at the table for him to sit down to feast with you as well. Steve froze in place, though he couldn't stop his eyes from traveling to your glistening pussy. It looked so pretty and inviting, tempting his self-control.

"Don't worry, she doesn't mind. Don't you, doll?" Steve felt his cock twitching in his pants as he looked up to see you. You looked completely wrecked, your hair disheveled and your eyes glassy. Your breathing was accelerated, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to come down from your high.

"Steve, please." You begged in a hoarse voice. "I need you, baby." You sounded pathetic, completely desperate, but it was enough to convince him. Steve approached you slowly, sitting down in the free chair next to Bucky. He was tense, you could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders, but the darkness in his eyes told you he wanted this as much as you did. He was just a little nervous.

"I don't know how- I never have-" He tried to explain his situation, but stopped himself both times. He knew you guys wouldn't judge him for his lack of experience, but he still felt silly admitting he had no idea how to eat a woman out.

"That's okay, pal. That's why I'm here." Bucky gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before returning his attention to you. "Just watch and learn." He buried his face between your legs once more, leaning slightly to the side so Steve had a view of the way his tongue flicked over your clit.

You let out a loud moan as Bucky's lips made contact with your wet folds, pulling your head back as you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure. It was the most beautiful sight Steve had ever seen. You looked like an angel with the sunlight streaming through the window framing your figure, one that promised to make his darkest fantasies come true. The sounds escaping from your mouth were music to his ears, the pleas for more going straight to his cock. He couldn't wait to be the cause of your cries of pleasure, to have his name fall from your lips like a mantra as he pushed you over the edge. 

"This little bundle of nerves right here is your best friend when you're trying to get a woman to come." Bucky's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He reluctantly took his eyes away from your expression of pure pleasure, concentrating on the valuable information his friend was providing. "Here, you try it... don't worry, I promise you she'll love it. Just start slow, don't put too much pressure."

Steve moved his trembling hand to your center, taking the time to caress the soft skin of your thighs before running a finger over your glistening folds. You were so wet that he had no difficulty at all, his digit sliding easily up to your clit. He then followed his friend's advice, drawing small circles over the bundle of nerves without applying too much pressure.

"F-fuck." He heard your breathy moan and lifted his gaze to watch you. Your eyes were closed, your teeth clenched over your lower lip as you tried to contain the involuntary twitching of your hips. You wanted to let Steve take his time exploring your body, to learn with you how to please a woman, but you were also desperate for relief. 

"See? She likes that! Don't you, doll?"

"Y-yes, yes! Steve, please." You begged. His finger felt good, but you needed more. You wanted to feel more of him, to have him show you how much he wanted to make you cum.

"Oh, she's so close." Bucky let out a low chuckle. "She's desperate to cum. But she needs more, so why don't you settle down there in between her legs? I'll guide you through what she likes." 

Steve was desperate to taste you, so as much as he felt the funny feeling of nerves in his stomach, he settled down between your legs. He couldn't resist the urge to kiss your thighs, slowly making his way to the place where you needed him most. He could smell your desire from there, see your pussy dripping with need as your anticipation grew.

"Start by licking a line up her slit, then focus your attention on her clit. Go slow." He heard Bucky instructing him and he followed his orders to the letter. Steve moaned as he felt the sweet taste of your arousal against his tongue, the vibrations adding to the pleasure he was giving you. 

"She tastes good, doesn't she?" Bucky asked him, a knowing smile plastered on his lips. 

"Fuck yes," Steve spoke against your pussy, his breath crashing against your sensitive clit and making you gasp. "It's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

"I know, right?" The brunet nodded, patting his friend's back lightly before pulling away a little to give him his space. There was something incredibly erotic about the way the two men talked about your taste like it was some nectar of the gods, it made you feel special in a way, desired. No man had ever eaten your pussy with such desperation before. "Try putting your tongue inside her, it's even better."

You didn't even have time to process Bucky's words before you felt Steve's tongue pushing its way into your tight hole. His nose was rubbing your clit in a delicious way and you had to fight your body not to move your hips against his face. You knew this was his first time doing something like this —even if it didn't feel like it— and you wanted to let him be in control, to work out what he felt comfortable doing. But when he moved his tongue inside you, your body twitched involuntarily, your nervous system responding automatically to the rush of pleasure coursing through you.

"Oh, fuck… just like that, baby… don't stop." You moaned desperately, voice laced with need as you buried your fingers in his hair to hold his head in place. "You're doing so good for me, Stevie... such a good job, m-making me feel so goo- fuck!" your praise only encouraged Steve more, giving him the confidence he needed to start experimenting with his techniques. His cock was painfully hard in his pants again, throbbing every time he earned a moan from you. But his pleasure didn't matter at that moment, all he wanted was to feel you cum on his tongue. 

"Does that feel good, doll?" Bucky's deep voice echoed in your ears. "You like to feel Steve's tongue deep inside you?" you moaned back as Steve moved his tongue in a different way, reaching new places that made your vision blurry. "Of course you do, you slut. You love to get tongue fuck by him while I watch... you love being our little fuck doll, ready to please and take everything we give you." 

Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing your breasts over your pajama top. Your nipples stood hard under his fingers, a clear sign of how turned on you were. You felt like you were on fire, your head spinning with pleasure. The combination of Steve's sinful mouth and Bucky's dirty words were too much for your poor system and you were short-circuiting, reduced to a mess of incoherent moans as you felt your orgasm approaching for the third time. You didn't even realize Bucky had removed your shirt until you felt his lips closing over your left nipple, sucking on the little bundle until you let out a whimper of pleasure.

"She's getting close." Bucky warned Steve, talking to his friend as if you weren't in the room. It was incredibly hot the way he could tell you were close to cumming without you having to tell him. He knew you that well. "Put a finger inside her, you're gonna want to feel her clenching around it as she cums, trust me."

"Fuck, right there, Steve, please." You moaned as you felt his finger pressing against that spongy place deep inside you. You dropped onto Bucky, hiding your face in his shoulder as you felt your orgasm approaching. The knot in your stomach tightened with each flick of Steve's tongue over your abused bundle of nerves, a warm sensation spreading through your abdomen as your legs began to tremble.

"You're gonna be a good girl and cum for us, doll?" Bucky encouraged, murmuring in your ear as he pinched your nipples between his fingers, adding a slight sensation of pain that mingled with pleasure in a delicious way. "You're gonna be a good girl and cum all over Stevie's face? Look at him, he wants it so bad, baby. He's desperate to feel you cum."

As if he sought to add veracity to Bucky's words, Steve moaned against your pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He felt your warm walls closing around his finger, burying it deep inside you as your hips moved against his face, fucking yourself into him. You were so tight and warm that he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be inside you, to feel your velvety walls tightening around his member as you came, milking his cock until there wasn't a drop of cum left in him.

"Suck her clit into your mouth, hard." Bucky instructed and Steve obeyed, closing his lips over the bundle of nerves and sucking hard. Your hips lifted off the table and Bucky had to press his arm against your lower belly to hold you in place. That added a new sensation, a pressure that threatened to push you over the edge. 

"C'mon, doll, cum for us. We want to hear you. We want to see you come undone for us, c'mon." And as if Bucky's words were a command, your body immediately complied. The moan that escaped your lips was a sound neither Steve nor Bucky would ever forget, traveling straight to their cocks as they pushed you over the edge. 

Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body as you cried out. Your trembling legs closed around Steve's head, holding him in place. Not that he was complaining, he was more than happy to stay between your legs, licking everything you had to offer him. Your essence was his new favorite drug, the only thing he wanted to savor for the rest of his life. However, he was forced to pull away from you as you began to cry from the overstimulation, your body unsure of what to do as it felt both so good and so overwhelmed at the same time. 

You could hear Bucky's voice in the distance, praising you for behaving so well, but you were too far gone to be able to process exactly what he was saying. Your mind was spinning, eyes slightly out of focus. All you could do was feel. Feel the electricity coursing through your veins. Feel Steve's hands caressing your legs as he watched you in complete awe of your beauty. Feel Bucky's warm breath against your neck as he spoke, his lips brushing your skin with every word that came from his lips. It was the hardest you had ever come in your life, neither your body nor your mind seemed prepared to withstand such pleasure.

“Are you there, doll?” You only managed to weakly nod your head, doubting your ability to form coherent sentences at that moment. "Good, cause we're not done with you yet." Your eyes opened wide at his words, not knowing how to feel about it. You were tired, destroyed by the force of your orgasm, but at the same time the possibility of feeling Bucky and Steve's hands on your body again were too tempting to pass up. 

"You think you can handle it?" You nodded again, looking up at Bucky with sparkling eyes. "Use your words like a big girl."

"Yes, I can handle it, please." You assured him in a raspy voice, sitting up straight on the table, posture erect and gaze expectant as a way of showing Bucky that you were a good girl who knew how to behave.

"Always so eager to please, my good girl." He smiled, planting a soft, sensual kiss on your lips.  You kissed him back with fervent enthusiasm, burying your fingers in his hair to draw him even closer to you. When you moaned against his lips he picked up the pace, his tongue entering your mouth and engaging with yours in a sinful dance that took your breath away. 

You lost yourself in the moment, the world around you disappearing as you surrendered under Bucky's dominance. He was a damn good kisser and knew exactly what to do to leave you dazed when he broke away. He always had to hold back a proud smile when he saw the effects of his lips on your face, your half-closed eyes slightly unfocused with no thought behind them, only desire. And that time was no exception. 

You whimpered when his lips parted from yours, immediately seeking contact again. But he stopped you, giving you a firm look that told you to stay in place. "Don't be rude, doll." He said, shaking his head. "Show poor Stevie some love too. We don't want him to feel left out."

Remembering that you weren't alone there, your gaze fell on Steve. He looked like a mess, tangled hair, cheeks slightly flushed and puffy lips still glistening with your release. His appearance contrasted with the innocence in his eyes in a delightful way. It awakened something in you, a fire deep within you that urged you toward him. So you answered your body's needs, pulling Steve to you and pressing your lips to his.

You didn't have to fight him to gain dominance, he willingly surrendered to you the moment your tongue caressed his lips. You could taste yourself in him, the sweet evidence of your release still present in his mouth. That only fueled you more, wanting to repay him for making you feel so good. Your hands roamed over his body, caressing his chest, down his flat abdomen to the bulge in his pants.

Steve moaned against your lips as he felt your palm press against his erection, cock throbbing in his pants desperate for relief. He had cum about 20 minutes before, but it didn't really feel like it. He was just as desperate —if not more so— for your attention as he had been in the morning. He needed you more than he'd ever needed anyone. You were the only one who could make him feel that way. You owned him body and soul. 

There was nothing he could do to stop his body from reacting to your touch - and he didn't want to anyway. All he could do was relax under your touch and trust you to bring him back to that sweet abyss of pleasure. When your hand went inside his underwear he let out a pathetic moan. He didn't care about being right in front of Bucky —hell, part of him liked that he was there—, he didn't even care about showing how needy he was. All he cared about was feeling you close to him, feeling your hands on his body as you brought him to the edge. 

"Aw, poor Stevie needs some release." Bucky teased, a playful smile plastered on his lips. "You wanna give it to him, don't you, doll? You wanna make him feel good?"

"Yes! I want to make you both feel good." You turned your gaze away from Steve to focus on Bucky for a moment, though your hand remained buried in his pants.

"Of course you do. You're such a good girl for us." Bucky kissed you once more and you felt Steve's cock twitch beneath your hand as he watched the two of you. "Ready for your breakfast, doll?"

Bucky carried you in his arms to the couch, declaring that it would be better if you settled somewhere more comfortable for what he had in mind. He had Steve sit on one end of the couch, placing you next to him as he took a moment to remove his pajama top. 

"Well, go on doll, eat your breakfast." He said as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his permission or some sort of instruction. Bucky gently caressed your cheek before turning your face to Steve. He was looking at you with big, dark eyes full of pleasure, his dick throbbing as he understood the implications behind his friend's words.

You didn't waste a second, your hands traveling quickly to Steve's pants to free his member from its confinement. Your eyes met his one last time, a silent question written in them. He nodded, giving you the consent you needed to continue.

Your tongue pressed against the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft as you licked a long line from the base of his cock to the tip. Your tongue trailed up his skin in an almost torturous manner, giving him a small taste of what was to come without actually giving it to him. His eyes never left yours, deep blue orbs staring intently at you as you teased him. You were having your fun, taking your time to find out what things made Steve react. He knew it and enjoyed it too. He was desperate for relief, yes, and there was nothing he wanted more than to feel your lips wrap around his cock, but he enjoyed the tension in the air, the extra attention you were putting on him. It made him feel special in a way. So he let you have your fun, holding back the urge to thrust his hips upward as your tongue circled around his flushed, swollen tip.

"I knew you'd taste fucking delicious, baby." You moaned against his cock, reveling in the salty taste of his pre cum. "I need more." Steve didn't have time to even process your words before he felt your lips closing over the tip of his cock, sucking it into your mouth. The moan that escaped his lips was pathetic, but he was too lost in pleasure to care. He had never felt anything like that before. It was almost overwhelming. Just the image of his cock slowly disappearing inside your mouth was enough to drive him over the edge, his balls tightening with the threat of release.

"She's really good at that, isn't she?" Steve heard Bucky's voice in the distance, making him remember you weren't alone.

"Y-yeah, f-fuck, so good." He managed to mumble between ragged breaths, fists clenching on the material of the couch until his knuckles turned white.

You felt like a goddess being praised by both men, pure pleasure coursing through your body even when neither of them were touching you. All it took was their lustful glances and desperate comments to ignite the fire in your stomach once again. 

For a moment you forgot your own satisfaction, ignoring your throbbing pussy in order to concentrate on pleasuring Steve. It wasn't as if you weren't enjoying it, you loved feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue and hearing the moans of pleasure escaping his lips. It was more than enough to keep you on the edge, though not enough to push you beyond it. But you didn't care, all you wanted was to give him the relief he needed, to hear him moan your name as he emptied his load into your mouth, painting the back of your throat white. Showing Steve pleasures he didn't know about, being the first woman in his life to touch him like that and make him feel so good was pleasurable enough for you.

At least, until you felt Bucky's hands gripping your hips. He settled you on the couch without any trouble, manhandling you as if you weighed nothing until your face was pushed against Steve's dick and your ass was up in the air. He positioned himself behind you, caressing the soft skin of your ass before giving you a hard spank that took you by surprise. You flinched, letting out a moan that vibrated around Steve's dick in your mouth. You heard him curse under his breath, throwing his head back as he tightened his grip on the couch cushions. Bucky chuckled under his breath, repeating the action a couple of times, no doubt in an effort to push Steve over the edge. 

When Bucky pressed his member against your wet pussy, you knew he was teasing you too. He slid his shaft up and down your folds, intentionally missing the spot where you needed it most. You tried to push yourself against him, silently telling him you were ready to take whatever he wanted to give you, but his firm grip on your hips prevented you from doing so.

"What is it, doll? You seem desperate." Bucky teased, enjoying the whimpers that escaped your lips, muffled by Steve's cock that kept you from communicating properly. "You want me to fuck you, is that it? You want me to fuck you while you have Steve's dick buried deep down in your throat, huh?" 

The desperate moan you let out was all the confirmation Bucky needed. As much fun as it was to be in control, playing with you and by extension Steve, he was getting impatient. His hard cock was throbbing with need, tip red and swollen as drops of pre cum leaked from the slit. So he buried himself inside you giving you almost no warning, pushing you against Steve's cock with the force of his thrust. You gagged around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as a rush of electricity spread throughout your body.

Bucky lost himself in you for a moment, relishing in the way your warm, wet walls closed around his member. He held still for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust to his member, before he began to move his hips against yours in a torturous rhythm. There was no time for gentleness, to take his time with you and slowly bring you —and him— to the edge. There was a sense of urgency in the air, of desperation, that enveloped the three of you as you worked together to get some relief.

Each thrust of Bucky's hips pushed you further onto Steve's member, your uncontrollable moans vibrating around him adding to the pleasure he felt. As your hands began to toy with his balls, his abdomen tensed, feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer. He didn't want to cum yet, he didn't want the moment to end. He wanted to enjoy the warmth of your mouth on him for a while longer, so he fought to contain the pleasure he was feeling. It wasn't an easy task, not when Bucky seemed to be making you feel so good with every little movement. He had to fight his body not to push his hips up since he didn't want to hurt you, squeezing the couch cushions tightly as a way to keep himself grounded.

"You can grab her hair, Stevie, she doesn't mind." Bucky's voice echoing in his ears made him open his eyes. Though it was a mistake because seeing the state you were in —eyes watery, pupils dilated, lips swollen around his cock— did nothing but tighten the knot in his stomach, bringing him closer to the breaking point. "She likes it. You can use it to guide her movements, like this." 

Bucky grabbed your hair in a fist, his fingers burying themselves in the messy locks to get a firm grip on your head. When he pulled you back hard, you couldn't help but let out a whimper of mixed pain and pleasure. He pushed you away from Steve until only the tip of his cock remained buried in your mouth, ordering you to suck on it before slowly lowering your head back down to him. For the next few moments, Bucky controlled the rhythm and the way you pleasured Steve, making you bob your head up and down his dick at a tortuous peace, effectively fucking him with your mouth. 

His assault on you never ceased, his hips moving slowly and sensually against yours as he used you for his and Steve's pleasure. He enjoyed the control, how powerful it made him feel to have you both moaning desperately because of him. Seeing Steve's face as he tried not to cum and feeling the way your velvety walls closed around his cock was an explosive combination. A sinful image that brought him closer and closer to his orgasm. So, to try to bring you closer to your limit as well, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take Steve's cock down your throat. He held you in that position for a few seconds, enjoying the pathetic whimpers that involuntarily escaped Steve's lips. 

When you gagged, Bucky lifted your head up and away from Steve's dick to give you a chance to breathe. He pulled you closer to him using the firm grip he had on your hair, pressing his torso against your back as he tilted your head so he could get a better look at you. You were a mess of tears and saliva, your swollen lips slightly parted as you struggled to breathe.

“She loves being used, don’t you, doll?” Bucky said, placing a kiss on your cheek. It was a tender touch that contrasted with what he was saying, a way of rewarding you for your good behavior. "Tell Stevie how much you like to be used, baby. Tell him it's okay if he fucks your throat or pulls your hair." He tilted your head so you could look at Steve, never loosening his grip on your hair.

"I-I love being used... I want you to use me for your pleasure, baby." You managed to say between accelerated breaths, feeling your walls tighten around Bucky's cock with every word that escaped your lips. "I want to feel your cock down my throat as you come undone for me, baby, please."

Steve almost choked on his own saliva as he swallowed, unable to believe that what was happening was real and not part of one of his deepest fantasies. It didn't seem real to him to have you naked in front of him, tears in your eyes and lips swollen as you begged for his cock. It was too much for him, he was convinced that his poor heart wouldn't be able to hold out much longer —in fact, he was surprised that he hadn't already had an asthma attack from his labored breathing. But still, he needed to feel your throat closing around his cock even if that was the last thing he did. He needed release and you were the only one who could give it to him.

When Bucky pulled you into him again, Steve reached out to cup your face. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the gentleness of his caress, a nice contrast to the roughness and intensity of the moment. Slowly, his hand slid upward, losing itself in your messy locks. He gathered your hair in his fist in a gentle grip, slowly easing himself into this new and unfamiliar territory. You gave him a small smile, a way of reassuring him that you were okay with it to try to calm his nerves. That seemed to help, because you felt him tighten his grip on your hair before guiding your mouth to his member again.

You let him take control, his hands guiding the movement of your mouth as you felt Bucky increase the pace of his thrusts. All three of you were close to the edge, you could tell by the desperate way your bodies were moving, but none of you wanted the moment to end. You wanted to live forever in that beautiful bliss, wrapped in each other's warmth as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your bodies. However, you were determined to make Steve cum before you did. You needed to feel his cock throbbing in your mouth as he emptied his load down your throat, fingers clutching at your hair to hold you in place. You needed to hear him moan your name in desperation as you drove him to the edge of pleasure.

“Oh f-fuck, I'm s-so close." Steve tried to warn you between shaky breaths. You moaned around him, using every trick you knew to push him over the edge. His grip on your hair tightened, pain mixing with pleasure as you felt Bucky's fingers toy with your clit seeking to bring you to the same state of desperation as Steve. 

You felt his cock throbbing in your mouth, his balls tensing in your hands as you gently played with them. He was so close to cumming that you could almost feel his load on your tongue, so you pushed him a little further, taking all of him until his cock reached your throat. The sensation was too much for poor Steve, your wet, tight hole closing around him in a delicious way. He couldn't fight his body any longer so he let himself go, pressing you down on his cock as he emptied his load down your throat with a loud moan of your name.

"Oh fuck, she loves that." Steve heard Bucky moaning in the distance, too lost in the pleasure coursing through his body to reply. "She's squeezing me so tight, fuck... You love having Stevie's dick buried down your throat, don't you? You love the taste of his cum in your tongue, you cock hungry slut."

The whimper you let out was pathetic and went straight to Bucky's cock. "Yes! I've wanted to taste it for so long." You admitted, looking straight into Steve's half-closed eyes. Fuck your friendship! "You taste so good, baby... best breakfast I've ever had." And as if you wanted to show Steve how good he tasted, you kissed him allowing him to savor himself on your lips. 

Bucky groaned behind your back, finding the scene in front of him incredibly erotic. It was as if you knew exactly what to do to push him over the edge. "That's it, such a good girl for us, doll." He praised you as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, feeling his orgasm approaching. "You take us both so well, like you were meant for it, f-fuck! You wanna be our good girl forever? Let us please you whenever you need? I promise, we'd take such good care of you, wouldn't we Steve?"

Bucky's mind was clouded with pleasure, but that didn't make his words any less true. It was a genuine offer he was making. He wanted to have you with him forever, he wanted Steve to have you forever, and you to have both of them. It was pretty obvious that that was what you were meant to be, it was the only explanation for the way you felt, for the way you connected on such a special level. You weren't just friends, you never had been and he was tired of pretending.

"Yes! Yes we would." Steve rushed to say, not needing much time to think about his answer. The three of you together just felt natural, it had been that way all your lives and it had to stay that way until the end of your days. "Please, sweetheart, be ours."

You couldn't have refused an offer like that even if you wanted to, not when Steve was looking at you with puppy dog eyes and cheeks slightly flushed red, not when Bucky was spreading kisses on your back in such a tender way while he waited for an answer. But the thing was, you didn't need to give one, they knew you were theirs. You knew you were theirs. That had been the case from day one, long before you and Bucky started fucking.

"I'm yours, always have been, always will be." You admitted with a smile, feeling your chest filling with a warm sensation as Steve joined your lips in a kiss. It was sweet and tender, contrasting with the force of Bucky's thrusts.

"Oh that's it, my good girl... I'm gonna mark you with my cum... f-fuck... claim you as mine as I fill your tight pussy with my cum, just like Steve did your that pretty mouth of yours... you ready, baby? Are you ready to feel my cum buried deep inside your cunt?"

"Yes! Bucky, please. I need you to fill me up, please, mark me as yours... I need to feel you, baby, pleaseee." You didn't care anymore about how pathetic or needy you sounded, you were too far gone to do that. All you wanted was to feel that sweet relief coursing through your body.

"Then cum for me, doll. Let us see you come undone for us one more time and I'll give it to you, c'mon!" Bucky didn't have to do much more to push you over the edge, your body responding to his commands as if he were in charge. A couple of quick thrusts, the rubbing of his fingers against your clit, and you were cumming on his cock with a choked cry.

The intensity of your orgasm took you by surprise, your whole body twitching as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your nervous system. Your body gave out and you fell on top of Steve, hiding your face in his neck as Bucky fucked you through your orgasm in pursuit of his own. Steve held you against him, supporting you and stroking your hair as you struggled for breath. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, but you weren't able to respond since your mind was too overwhelmed with pleasure. You appreciated it though, it helped keep you grounded as you felt a new pressure forming in your stomach.

The pleasure never ceased, it only increased with each thrust of Bucky's hips. It was almost painful, your body squirming from the overstimulation. But at the same time it felt so good that you let Bucky hold you in place, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips as he chased his own orgasm.

"F-fuuckk, Bucky, I can't... 's too much, please." You mumbled incoherently against Steve's chest, but your whines were interrupted by a long moan that announced another orgasm. The spasms of your poor abused pussy pushed Bucky over the edge, triggering his own orgasm just seconds after yours. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he emptied his load, rope after rope of cum painting your velvety walls white. 

You whimpered as he pulled out of you, feeling empty without his cock buried deep inside you. Yet he was back beside you in an instant, sitting on the couch and settling you on his lap. You could feel your juices mixing with his and running down your legs as your over-sensitive pussy still twitched with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your muscles ached and you felt tired, but still a satisfied smile formed on your face.

"It's okay, we got you, we got you." Bucky murmured against your hair as he pulled you tight against his body. "You did soo good for us, doll... such a good girl." Your heart fluttered at his words, the tone of his voice much softer and more tender than he had used to call you that so far. 

You let the warmth of Bucky's body soothe your overwhelmed senses, matching your breathing to his as you slowly came down from your high. When you finally opened your eyes, you met the adoring gaze of Steve first, who was sitting next to Bucky with your legs stretched across his lap. His fingers traced invisible patterns on your skin, his way of helping to soothe you and keep himself grounded at the same time. He looked adorable with his big puppy dog eyes looking at you as if you were the only important thing in the room, patiently waiting for you to come around.

When you looked up you found Bucky watching you in a similar way, blue eyes full of love as he held you against his chest. It made you feel incredibly special, loved. Butterflies awoke in your stomach, fluttering around as you realized that this was the place you always wanted to be. You belonged with them, Steve and Bucky were your home.

You reached out a hand to cup Bucky's cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin of his face as your other hand intertwined with Steve's. "I love you guys." You simply said, your voice soft and tired, but sincere. 

They shared a quick glance before Steve said, "We love you too, sweetheart."

Tags: @pono-pura-vida @itdobe-foggy

Thank you so much for your support! It means a lot, especially in a fic like this one where I don't feel that confident with my smut writing skills

[flowersforbucky]

starry eyed

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

warnings/tags: mostly just fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, one minor injury, language, kissing and some sensuality

author's note: short little feel good christmas fic! everyone is alive and happy because i say so. i originally got the idea for this fic last winter, but i hadn't got back into writing at that time. happy that i was able to put it into words finally.

my masterlist

“So, whose name did you draw?”

You shove your hand into an oven mitt, grabbing a large dish out of the oven. Everyone had been assigned to bring a different breakfast food to the Christmas morning potluck.

Sam brought chocolate chip pancakes, Steve brought a shit ton of sausage links, and Sharon brought a giant fruit platter to name a few. You figured that the easiest, cheapest way to help feed a group of a dozen people is a couple tubes of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.

“That kinda takes the secret out of Secret Santa.”

Bucky leans on the island in the middle of the compound’s kitchen, drinking his second cup of coffee of the morning. His breakfast dish of choice? A sack of two dozen McDonald’s hash browns.

“I was just testing you,” Bucky jokes. “You passed. Do you want to know who got your name?”

“No!” You whack his stomach with the oven mitt and he feigns injury. “I do not. Have I passed all of your tests?”

“I’m proud,” Bucky says after a big gulp of coffee. “You’re stronger than Sam, at least. He’s been asking everyone who drew his name for the last week.”

You roll your eyes. “He does that every year and no one ever tells him.”

Your friends begin filing into the kitchen, everyone grabbing plates and piling them high with all of the food scattered across the island. After making your plate, you retreat to the living room and nestle yourself between Natasha and Sharon on the couch.

Everyone is so occupied with stuffing their faces that there’s hardly any conversation. You halfway pay attention to the Hallmark Christmas rom-com playing on the television as you devour a stack of pancakes and hash browns.

Truthfully, you had hoped to draw Bucky’s name from the hat. You had a gift in mind for him already, and if you’d gotten his name then it would have presented you with the perfect opportunity to give it to him without any pressure for him to give you a gift in return.

You ended up drawing Sharon's name, but you decided to get the present for Bucky, anyway – a vintage tabletop phonograph from the forties that you’d snagged for an incredible deal on eBay. You didn’t put it under the gargantuan Christmas tree with all of the other gifts. It sits in your bedroom, waiting for you to give it to him later today when you’re not surrounded by all of your close friends.

To no one’s surprise, Sam and Peter are the first people to finish eating and immediately begin handing out all of the presents under the tree. You’re still finishing up your breakfast when Peter practically throws a small box wrapped in snowmen print paper towards you.

It's addressed to you, from your Secret Santa. Right off the bat, you’re sure that the gift didn’t come from Natasha – you know how much pride that she puts into gift wrapping. Not that this gift is wrapped poorly, but compared to Natasha’s typically extravagant bows, you’re confident that she wasn't the one who wrapped this present.

You also notice that the handwriting appears to be more on the masculine side. It looks familiar, though you can’t say with confidence who it belongs to.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Sam says loudly enough to quiet all the chatter going on. “No one would spoil my gift for me and I’m getting impatient.”

You and Bucky share a knowing glance and eye roll at his words. He sits in a recliner directly across from you, holding the gift from his own Secret Santa.

“I’ll go first,” you offer excitedly, giving the box in your lap a small shake that gives nothing away.

You carelessly tear at the wrapping paper until it’s in pieces by your feet on the floor.

“What’d you get?” Sam asks.

You don’t respond at first, taking in the packaging of the box.

A northern lights projector.

You feel warmth spread across your cheeks and you can’t help but smile down at the gift in your hands, no longer having any doubt about who this gift came from.

One Month Ago

“These Spaghettios expired a couple weeks ago. Do you think we should risk it?”

You stand in the small kitchen of the Alaskan safe house, rifling through the limited options in the pantry. Some instant oatmeal packets, a few cans of Beanee Weenees, and the aforementioned expired Spaghettios are tonight’s dinner choices.

You can’t say you’re surprised – you’ve been doing this job for a while, and poorly stocked safe houses are pretty much the standard in this line of work. It doesn't help that this is the fifth night that you and Bucky have spent in this particular safe house, and you've eaten through all of the better options at this point.

“If you want to risk getting food poisoning in addition to that sprained ankle, then you go for it. I'll be sticking to the oatmeal.” Bucky reaches around you, grabbing a packet of maple and brown sugar oatmeal from the shelf that you stand in front of.

He's right. The oatmeal is the safest option.

One more night of this, you remind yourself. Tomorrow night, you'd be back in the comfort of your room, where you can DoorDash Chinese food.

You sigh, grabbing the remaining packet of oatmeal.

“You know, I wouldn't even mind the food situation nearly as much if I could just see the lights. Five nights here and nothing,” you grumble.

It’s your first time in Alaska, and you had high hopes for being able to see the northern lights. Each night so far, after long days of recon, you’ve stayed up past the point of exhaustion checking to see if they’re visible.

So far, the weather had been nothing but rainy and dreary, making the sky close to impossible to see at night. The clouds finally let up some today, but you've still seen no hint of an aurora. Just inky blackness, a crescent moon, and a steady downpour of snow that began a few hours ago.

“You could always get one of those projectors,” he teases with a shrug. “Northern lights, galaxies, constellations… all right there on your bedroom ceiling.”

Even though he won’t say it, you know he wants to see the northern lights as badly as you do. He's made it obvious by the way he glances out the window every so often to check.

You’ve been hoping that they’d make an appearance for him as much as for yourself. He's technically seen them before – decades ago. But never as himself. Never as Bucky.

“Those are neat,” you agree glumly. “I've just always wanted to see them in person. Kinda a bucket list thing.”

Getting to witness them with him would be the cherry on top, but you don’t add that part.

Bucky insists that you sit down on the couch and ice your ankle while he prepares the instant oatmeal for the two of you. You’re too tired to protest, so you retreat to the sofa and flip through the limited number of channels on the old TV with your foot propped up.

Fucking black ice. The last day of this mission and everything had gone swimmingly up until you slipped on a patch of clear ice earlier today, twisting your ankle.

You’re just thankful that it happened in front of Bucky, and not Sam. You can only imagine the teasing that would have ensued if it had been Sam that saw you eat shit.

The two of you eat by the warmth of the dwindling fire while watching a Seinfeld re-run.

You’re over three thousand miles from New York, but it doesn’t feel like you’re far from home at all. Bucky and you have been mission partners for quite some time now, and he has a way of making you feel like you’re at home, no matter where you’re actually at. His presence is familiar and comforting – whether you’re at the compound, or in a different country, or in Alaska – the familiarity and comfort of home is there, as long as he is.

“I’m gonna go get some more wood for the fire before bed,” Bucky says when he finishes scarfing down his food. You give him a quick nod, your mouth still crammed full of oatmeal. “You stay here and try not to sprain anything else,” he teases with a glance at your foot that’s elevated on the coffee table in front of you.

You shoot him an obscene gesture once his back is to you. “You act like my leg got cut off,” you grumble as he exits the house.

No more than ten seconds pass before you hear him call your name from beyond the front door. You look over your shoulder with wide eyes and he all but sprints back into the house with an animated expression.

“What? What is it?”

“The lights. They’re visible,” he exclaims. He walks over to the couch, taking your bowl from you and sitting it on the end table next to you before you can process what’s happening. He offers his flesh hand to you in an attempt to help you up.

“Holy shit, really? You better not be messing with me.” You push yourself up off the couch, momentarily forgetting all about your ankle.

“I’m not messing with you,” he snorts. “Come see for yourself.”

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist and you throw yours over his shoulder, helping you walk to the porch without putting too much pressure on your injured foot. You lean into him, his body heat providing a nice reprieve from the night air as you step outside.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he.

Side by side, you stare up at the seemingly endless expanse of swirling rivers of blue and green. The auroral rays seem to dance across the sky, electrifying the night with the shimmering veils of color.

“Wow,” you whisper in awe. Wow doesn’t begin to cover how ethereal the phenomenon is, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

You're acutely aware of the bitter chill of the cold wind. If it weren't for the fact that Bucky feels like a personal space heater, your teeth would be chattering. But with the view before you, you find it hard to care.

“I’d give anything to be able to see this where we live,” you breathe. You glance up at him to find him already looking at you.

“Wouldn't you?” You ask him.

“I really would.”

Present Day

“Oooh,” Natasha coos beside you, snapping you out of your memory. “A northern lights projector. I wonder who that could be from.”

You can tell by her tone of voice that she knows exactly who it’s from – even if you hadn't blatantly told her about seeing the northern lights on your mission with Bucky last month, she's too smart to not be able to figure it out herself.

You playfully elbow her in the side, silencing her teasing but the smirk on her face remains.

“Thank you, Santa,” you say with a glance at Bucky. “I love it.”

The rest of your friends open their presents one by one. You try your hardest to pay attention, but all you can think about is how perfect you think the gift that Bucky picked out for you is. He could have just given you a gift card, or a generic gag gift, but what he gave you is personal, and sentimental, and thoughtful.

When all of the Christmas morning festivities have come to an end, you retreat back to your bedroom with your presents. Despite getting many great gifts from your friends, the one from your Secret Santa is by far your favorite.

You unbox the projector and set it up on your nightstand before plugging it in. As soon as you press the power button, the ceiling of your room is covered in shades of blue and green that mimic the natural hues of the northern lights that you had witnessed first hand just a month prior.

You flick your light switch off, making it easier to envision yourself standing under the Alaska sky. Of course, there’s nothing like seeing the real thing, but it’s still pretty, and the meaning behind the gift is what makes you happier than anything.

Smiling to yourself beneath the undulating ribbons of turquoise and emerald, you can’t help but replay the memory of standing under the aurora with Bucky.

How he got so excited when he went outside and realized the lights were visible, the contrast of his warm body against the cold night air as he helped you stand on your hurt foot, and the way that he was smiling at you instead of taking in the scene before him –

Your phone chimes from your back pocket, drawing you back to reality.

A projection probably doesn’t really compare to the real thing, huh?

You smile at your phone, sitting down on your bed. You think of how you should respond when you remember the present you bought for Bucky that sits in your closet.

Come and see for yourself, you respond.

With his room being just a short distance down the hallway, it’s only a few moments before you hear a soft knock against your door.

“Come in,” you say softly.

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of nerves, and you tell yourself it’s because you’re antsy about giving him the present you'd picked out for him.

Bucky eases into the room, closing the door behind him. He takes in the display across your ceiling with his hands shoved in his pockets – a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed many times before, though you can’t pinpoint why he’d be nervous right now.

“Pretty cool,” he admits. He takes a seat in front of you on the edge of your bed and finally meets your gaze. “Can’t say it quite compares to the real thing, but at least it’s a whole lot warmer here.”

“The food is considerably better here, too,” you joke. “But really, thank you. It’s definitely the best Secret Santa gift I’ve ever received,” you add, cringing when you remember the toilet shaped coffee mug that Sam had gotten you two years ago.

You use it regularly, of course. But you like Bucky’s gift far more.

“And I got you a present, too,” you add in a small voice before you can chicken out. “I know I wasn’t your Secret Santa, so I hope you don’t think it’s weird. It’s okay if you don’t like—”

“Can I tell you something?” He interrupts you. He’s grinning big – the kind of grin that brings out the lines around his eyes. You snap your mouth shut and answer with a quick nod.

“I wasn’t your Secret Santa originally,” he sighs. “Natasha was. But I convinced her to switch names with me.”

“But why—”

“I got your present as soon as we got back from Alaska, but then I started overthinking it… just thought it would be easier to give it to you if I had the excuse of being your Secret Santa,” he shrugs.

You’re momentarily stunned. It dawns on you – he’d been worried about the exact thing you had. You’d been so worried about him being weirded out by you getting him a gift that you waited until you were alone to give it to him, and he’d been so worried about getting you a gift that he convinced someone else to let him have your name in Secret Santa.

How silly of both of you, you think.

He sits by you on your bed, waiting for your response with a patient, albeit uncertain expression. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips.

It had been a fleeting thought when you stared into his eyes under the colorful Alaskan sky – how beautiful it would be to kiss someone under such a serene and mesmerizing sky. How beautiful it would be to kiss him, here. It was a thought that you shoved down, out of fear for crossing a line and making yourself look like an idiot.

It's a thought that is once again at the forefront of your mind, sitting beside him in your bedroom under the imitation aurora.

Under the true northern lights, or under your bedroom ceiling in New York – it doesn’t matter. You think kissing him would be beautiful anywhere.

And so you do.

Or he does – you’re not actually sure who leans forward first. But you are sure that he still tastes faintly of maple syrup and coffee from breakfast, and that when he cups your face in his flesh hand and tilts it to give him a better angle to sweep his tongue along your bottom lip, your brain turns to static white noise.

You let him set the pace – it’s slow and soft, like he’s trying to memorize the map that his tongue draws inside your mouth. You place one of your hands on the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers in the short tufts of hair.

Still holding your face in his hand, he pulls away with a gentle tug of your bottom lip between his teeth and looks at you in the blue-green glow of the projector’s illumination.

“Was that my present?” he smiles, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You laugh, reeling in the afterglow of the kiss.

You drop your hand from his neck, and hold up a singular finger to him, indicating for him to give you a moment. You walk over to your closet, retrieving the large gift bag containing the phonograph.

When you walk back over to your bed, you turn on your bedside table lamp for a bit more light before handing him the bag.

He smiles, blushing faintly as he pulls the tissue paper out of the gift bag. He eases the package out of the bag slowly, as if he’s scared the contents will break. You watch as he takes his time with the unboxing, now feeling a fresh wave of nervousness at the anticipation of him seeing the gift.

His smile only grows once he realizes what it is.

“My ma used to have one just like this,” he murmurs in awe. He grabs your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you. It's perfect.”

He turns to place it behind him on your mattress before pulling your face to his once more. It’s shorter than the kiss before, but just as tender and sweet.

“But just so you know, you could have just given me a kiss, and I would’ve been just as thrilled.”

••••••

thanks for reading!! i had fun writing this cute little piece ♡

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

THE SUNDAY REGULAR. 18+

bucky barnes x waitress fem!reader

wc. 4605 summary. you’re a waitress working at some shitty run-down diner in the middle of nowhere. and every sunday you see the same person at the same time walk through the doors. the pair of you forming a bond over time. though today, he doesn’t at his usual time and you begin to worry that you’ll have to wait another week to see him. the regular then finds out some information about you that he didn’t wish to know, and in turn, information you didn’t wish to share. warnings. 18+ only! very brief indirect drug description, reader is engaged, small moment of violence, wound tending, repressed feelings, yearning and pining bc its yummy, idiots in love, filth, pinv, premature ejaculation (he can't help it. he's wanted her a while, okay?) creampie. mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Sunday, 8:26pm. 24 minutes until closing time.

40-some miles outside of Washington DC.

You peer up at the clock on the wall behind you and weirdly find yourself hoping that it was displaying a lower number — wishing it to be an hour, maybe two earlier. You would never wish to be working at the diner for longer than you needed to be, but you were a customer short today and you were starting to grow restless. 

The regular's presence becoming all the more noticeable as the hours passed you by. They were truly the only reason you began to pick up Sunday shifts in the first place. 

Your hope begins to dwindle as you watch the second hand briskly move its way around the clock. There was a very strong chance that you won’t be seeing him walk through those doors tonight and you had to start welcoming that possibility. Unless your Sunday regular shows up in the next twenty minutes, you’re sadly going to have to wait another week more. 

You rest your arms across the counter of the bar, hands stretching outwards as you slot your head between your upper arms. Using the moment as a way to ease the strain in your eyes. You hear the sound of what you know for certain is a motorcycle, his motorcycle, and your head whips up, checking if your suspicions were as true as you knew them to be.

And it was. It was him. Only several hours later than what he usually is. 

You twist on your heel to the wall of mugs behind you and reach for the cleanest one you can see. You place it onto the bar just as he walks through the doors, meeting him with one of those smiles you only show to those who mean most. 

The feeling of relief fills your lungs as you in turn fill his cup, pouring him some black coffee.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” you welcome as you turn your back to him, placing the pot back onto its spot.

“You serve the best coffees, how could I not?” Bucky smiles, taking a seat at the empty bar — dismissing his usual seat in the far left booth against the window. 

“The trick is to let it sit for hours at a time.”

He takes a sip and nods, letting the particularly bitter liquid sit in his mouth a moment. “Yeah that would do it.”

“The kitchen is closed for the night, but I can offer you some pie? I was gonna take it home but it’s all yours if you want it,” you offer, suggesting a compromise to his usual order. “It’s pecan,” you tempt, pulling the paper box out from under the counter. 

He looks at the singular slice and back up to you briefly, appreciating the rather selfless offer. But he couldn’t do that to you, it was yours.

“No no, I’m fine thanks. The coffee will do just fine.”

As you close the box, something shiny on your left hand catches his attention. He grows quiet and his eyes become fixed on your hand atop the box, focusing on an engagement ring.

You snatch your hand away and laugh dryly, hiding it like you were ashamed of it.

“I uh, didn’t know you were—” he stops himself, pulling his gaze away from the band. He swallows thickly and coughs in his fist. “Congratulations.”

It doesn’t match your other jewellery, he thought. It's the wrong metal.

“Thanks,” you smile weakly, stashing your hand into your pinny – keeping it from his view, and quite frankly your own. “It all happened kinda fast, but uh,” you pause, trying to find the words. “I’m happy.”

Such a lie.

“Good,” he forces a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

You clear your throat, and nod. “Thanks.”

You each still rather awkwardly, the announcement –or if that’s what you’d call it– making you both fumble for conversation for the first time ever. But what else could one say after that? 

Bucky stares down at the mug in his hand, mentally plucking out conversation starters — hoping to think of something to say. But frankly, he was rather devastated, heartbroken even. The sight of the engagement ring feeling like a knife to the chest. Any chance of speaking was likely to result in further heartbreak.

He really thought you liked him.

He peers up at you when he notices your silence, though your eyes never meet his — they've become rather focused on a spot above his shoulder. He follows your eyeline and sees two men by a tree swapping items from their pockets. 

Bucky’s gaze slowly finds its way back to you, moving slow like he was reluctant to see the upset cloud within your eyes. 

“That’s him, right?” he asks hesitantly.

You can only scoff, head shaking disapprovingly as you watch the exchange play out. You had already previously suspected that the quitting was a ruse, and now you have the proof. All of it happening in front of your eyes. 

“He said he stopped,” you mutter under your breath, forgetting your present company.

Though Bucky hears, he doesn’t say anything. Rather he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s quite sure he’d make the situation worse if something were to be uttered from his mouth. But in truth, he was disappointed in your choices, and while he doesn’t know you a whole lot –nor you him– he’s always had the assumption that you were strong of mind. That you were capable of making good choices for yourself.

“I need to start closing up,” you hint, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as you make yourself busy behind the counter.

Any other time you would’ve given anything to stall closing up shop, do anything to just spend a few more minutes in his company. But after everything that’s happened in the last few minutes, you could barely look at him. Quite frankly, you were embarrassed with the events of it all, mortified and ashamed even. 

You knew you were making a mistake with your choice of partners, and you could tell that Bucky knew it too. 

“I understand,” he nods. 

He stands and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ten and placing it under his mug. He can only observe you from behind, your lack of eye contact telling him all he needs to know. And so he slowly begins gathering his things, stalling to see if you would give him anything more than the back of your head.

“I’ll see you next Sunday?” he questions as he backs away from the counter.

He prays that you would give him a smile or wave perhaps, just something before he reaches the doors, though you never do — you just continue to busy yourself with things that do not require your attention. You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes or for him to see the heartbreak in yours, so you faked work: adjusting already adjusted cups on the shelf.

“Yeah,” you hum, your back still to him.

As soon as you hear the doors shut, you begin to quickly make your way around the diner to shut things off, finding yourself in a rush to confront your fiancé outside. You lock the front doors and head out into the back, grabbing your things so you could exit through the kitchen. 

You see and hear your partner’s truck off to the side and head towards it, walking to your fiancé in the driver's seat.

“You’re a liar,” you shout over his loud music, talking to him through the rolled down window. “You are a fucking liar!” your voice grows louder, physically expressing the hatred in your heart.

He shuts the music off with a smack to the console and turns to look at you. 

“You’re outta your fucking mind, you know that?” he returns, his tone matching yours.

You scoff, laughing at him like it was entertaining. “Wow,” you shake your head.

“Okay then, give me back that ring,” he extends his hand towards you out the window, opening his hand. “You clearly don’t trust me, give it back.”

“Oh what, the ring you found at a fair?” you scoff. You yank it off your finger and throw it into his truck. “It’s the wrong metal anyway. I don’t wear that colour.”

In the front parking lot, Bucky waits. Lingering and pretending that he was trying to fix and adjust something on his bike. He could tell something were to go down, and he couldn’t leave you on your own to fend for yourself with a man that’s off his head. He hears voices raise from the back and his ears prickle, his suspicions proving to be correct. He slowly makes his way around on foot, walking a little faster when he hears a man’s voice raise.

“Get your own way home,” your fiancé, well, now ex-fiancé yells and unmutes his deafening music, turning it up even louder.

You weren’t sure if you were able to say anything more without crying, so instead you hit his truck, kicking a dent into the rusty door. He shouts something indecipherable and opens the door to get at you, but you push on it, shutting it closed. 

And in that moment warning signs flicker rapidly in Bucky’s brain – his brisk footsteps becoming a hastened jog. He didn’t know this man or what he was capable of, and he did not want to find out. 

But before he could get there, he sees you land a hefty punch to the man’s face inside the truck, a shout and a curse following after. Bucky rushes to your side, like he was offering his assistance, but the man in the truck speeds off — the large, manly company seeming to scare him off.

“Are you okay?” he swallows thickly, heart pounding in his chest. He turns you by the shoulders to face him, a look of pure worry slapped across his face. 

You stare off into the distance, gaze detached as if you were trying to process everything. It all happened so fast. You direct your eyes to focus on Bucky and nod slowly, finally able to look at him once again.

And while one may think that you were lying with that nod, it was one of truth, because you really were okay. Maybe for the first time since you put on that ring.

All you can do is hug him, arms wrapping tightly around him as you bury yourself in his comfort. At first he’s reluctant, his own arms hanging at his sides while he debates with himself. This is all he’s ever wanted, why else would he travel forty miles for a cup of shitty coffee and dry pie? And so, he finally gives in, his arms finding themselves circulating you, hands tight to your back as if he’s trying to prolong this moment. Take it all in, in case this were to be the last. 

You eventually pull away and look down at your feet, staring at the cracked concrete beneath you. “I uhm,” you start. “My car’s in the shop and he was my ride.”

“Of course,” is all he says, understanding exactly what you were trying to ask of him. 

During the short walk to his motorcycle out front, nothing was said with words — all of the talking being said through glances and smiles, small shy looks away when gazes were to meet.

Reaching his bike, he hands you his helmet and hops on, extending a hand to help you get on behind him. You were hesitant at first, the thought of being on a motorcycle for the first time ever made you feel sick. But you knew you were in safe company, him giving you his own helmet proving so.

You reach your arms around his waist, securing yourself to him as your fingers interlock around his stomach. His eyes close briefly, the feel of having you so close to him makes it difficult to breathe. He glances downwards, wanting to curate the memory in his brain. 

He watches your hands adjust in front of him and sees a lack of shine on your left ring finger. The sight practically made his heart swell.

Conversation was non-existent on the way to your house, which one would expect while on a motorcycle, but that didn’t mean neither of you had nothing to say. Quite the opposite in fact. 

He pulls up outside yours with the help of your direction and shuts off the engine. He helps you off first, holding your hand as if to give you balance before he joins you on the ground. Standing a few short inches from you.

You pull out your keys from your bag and head to your small, quaint house — walking towards the windchimes and well attend to potted flowers on the porch. Bucky shadows you, keeping a respectful distance as he walks you to your house.

“Would uh,” you pause and turn to look at him, offering a smile. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

He so desperately wants to, though he’s not sure if you’re in the right frame of mind to have a guest –practically a stranger– in your house. 

“I promise I make better coffee than the diner,” you playfully offer, exhausting routes to get him to come inside.

He hesitates, footing scuffing against the doormat as he battles with himself. 

“Only a small one,” he smiles and begins to take off his jacket. 

Your smile widens and you turn to open the door, making your way inside. You flick on a couple lamps and gesture him inside, trying to make him feel comfortable. Doing whatever you can to get him to stick around a little longer.

“Take a seat,” you nod to the sofa in front. “Be right back.”

You head into your room and mimic a silent scream, you couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited to have a man in your house. Undressing from your work uniform, you put on your pyjamas from the night before: mismatched oversized tee and plaid bottoms. You didn’t want any exaggerated effort in your appearance to be known in case it makes him flee, so you opt only for a few spritzes of deodorant.

In the other room, Bucky shares a similar feeling. He chews on a mint from his pocket and adjusts his hair, suddenly feeling a sense of pressure in the way that you might now perceive him. 

You join him in the main room a few moments later and head to the kitchen, making a start on the drinks. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you call out to Bucky and he turns to follow your voice.

“Anything.”

“Do you even black coffee?” you ask, a lively tinge in your voice.

“I do,” he mimics your tone, nodding a singular time. 

“Okay, let me rephrase,” you pause and reach into the freezer, pulling out several large ice cubes. “Do you like the diner’s back coffee?” you smile, heading towards him as you twist the ice into a dishtowel, securing it.

His lips form a straight line as he thinks about the weight of the question. Either way, his answer would contain a lie of some kind.

“I don’t,” he answers truthfully.

“I knew it,” you smile and plonk yourself down beside him. “No one likes our coffee.”

He twists slightly to look at you, watching your grin widen as your eyes fall to your lap. You’ve begun icing your hand from the punch earlier, holding the cold compress to your knuckles. His eyes fall to your hand, watching you struggle to hold the awkward shape in your non-dominant hand.

He once again battles with himself, mentally weighing it all in his mind. He wanted to help you, but he didn’t know if he could go without not being able to touch your skin ever again. But as he continued to watch you struggle with the shape, he thought that surely one touch couldn't hurt. 

“Let me,” he whispers, moving closer.

And so his hands reach for yours hesitantly, holding your hurt one carefully within his left, metal hand as the other presses the compress to your skin. Your eyes flicker up to his, silently appreciating how attentive and gentle he’s being with you. And how he seems to be doing it all from the kindness of his heart — no other ulterior motive following.

It made you realise how much of a mistake you made by saying yes to that proposal earlier this week. How much it’s complicated things if you would have just been honest with yourself from the start. You only wanted security, and you’ve grown to realise that what you were getting with your now ex-fiancé, wasn’t safety. It was fear. Fear of being alone and for admitting you had deeper looming feelings for your regular than you had first realised.

And while Bucky could only speak on his behalf, he always had a feeling there was something more between you. He wouldn’t have travelled eighty miles every Sunday if he didn’t think there was a possibility that you could in fact like him too.

So, he enjoys this moment, eyes transfixed on the kindling of your fingers atop your lap. It’s all so casual, so intimate. The feeling in person far better than what he’s imagined.

You wanted something more. You wanted it to progress into something you weren’t yet quite sure of. So, you place your free hand atop his, holding the back of his hand as he attends to the swelling on your knuckles.

He meets your eyes to see that your focus was already set on him, gaze soft and trusting as you watch him tend to you. The ice beginning to melt between the warmth of your touch.

You move your hand from atop his and extend it outwards, slowly reaching for the side of his face. You hold him there as you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek as if to show your thanks. It wasn’t originally the placement you had in mind, but truthfully you copped out at the last minute — far too afraid to be the one to ruin things.

He sensed that. 

And so, he took the pressure off you by being the assertive one: guiding you back in for a kiss to the lips before you were to get too far. It was clearly what you both wanted, the prolonged contact of your lips a physical declaration of that. 

Setting the ice towel on the coffee table, you bring your other hand to his face, holding him within your palms. And in turn his hands slip up to your waist, grip tight like he was afraid that if he were to let go, you’d disappear like you’ve done in all of his dreams before.

The kiss grows deeper and you each move closer, both eager to make this moment last. But it has to end at some point and Bucky parts away first, forehead resting to yours briefly. The tips of your noses rubbing against one another.

“You’ve had a tough night,” he catches his breath, speaking quietly between the close distance. “You shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“I’m not,” you pull away, shaking your head at him sternly. “I have wanted this for so long,” you finally admit, your hands falling to rest on his shoulders.

He just simply stares at you, head tilting as his lips open to speak. 

“You’re the reason I started picking up Sunday shifts,” you whisper, trying to persuade him that your feelings about progressing with him could not be swayed. And that this is what you wanted.

His eyes lower bashfully and his head shakes. You were the reason he would drive that distance every week.

“And, I…” you cut yourself off, pausing as if it had all become too real. So you change what you were going to say, thinking it may be too soon to proclaim such wild, outlandish feelings. “And I made a mistake… I didn’t love him.”

Bucky places his fleshed hand to your cheek, holding you dearly while you speak into existence the things he too feels. 

“I couldn’t have what I wanted… so I settled,” you divert from his eyes, suddenly aware of how little he’s speaking and how much you are..

He itches closer and closer, mouth ghosting yours once again. “And what did you want?” he whispers, speaking against your lips. It was like he was trying to pry it out of you for his own validation, tease it out of you almost.

All you can muster in response is a small, “You.”

And that's all he needed.

He directs you to lay lengthwise across the sofa, his body joining yours mere seconds later to over atop — the weight of him supported so as not to crush you. You wrap yourself around him as quick as your own body could allow it: bent knees lifting to hug at his sides, arms wrapping around his neck. Hips winding up against his desperately, keeping him close. 

The deepened kisses divert, and the trail of his mouth moves across your face, heading for the skin under your ear. He litters a few flutery kisses into the patch before lowering, peppering open-mouth kisses down the side of your throat. 

He wished that this moment could last, that he too could last. But he was fairly certain his stamina would fail him tonight, the way you look and smell and feel and sound all hindering his self-control. The sheer fact that this was all finally happening makes him feel like a very weak man indeed.

And suddenly the panic settled in for him. He had nothing. He wasn’t expecting this to happen, especially not tonight.

You sense a sudden worry and pull back, lusty heavy eyes flickering across his face. “What is it?” you ask breathlessly.

“I don’t have anything,” he hints, waiting for you to fill in the blanks yourself.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure, wandering hands moving down his sides. “I do… I’m on something,” you reassure.

He looks quite visibly relieved.

Your fingers slink into the hem of his long sleeve and you tug on the fabric. And while you’re eager to get him out of it, your pace remains slow. Like you were savouring it all. Your fingers skit over his skin as more of it becomes exposed, the top almost all the way off by now. He helps you help him out, alternating the anchoring of his hand so that you could pull his arms from either sleeve.

You drop it to the floor and in turn he starts to undress you from your t-shirt. His knuckles skim your stomach and the slow lifting begins to feel tortuous, the presence of him growing overwhelming.

And when your top half is finally bare, he adjusts himself over you, itching down your body. He presses a trail of kisses around each tit and down your stomach, moving hesitantly to the waistband of your pyjamas. His lips halt in place, searing white hot warmth to just under your belly button.

Your hands follow with him, fingers weaving through his dark hair as if to offer an ounce of the pleasure he’s giving you right now. His movements are slow and teasing as he starts to undress your lower half — removing both your underwear and bottoms with the same motion.

He stills for a few seconds, taking all of you in. How surreal that it is that you’re lying there completely naked on the couch before him, your gaze intently following every one of his movements. Sealing a final kiss to your upper, inner thigh, he sits back on his heels to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Tugging them both down to pool at his knees — saving the trouble later on.

Bucky moves back up you to resume his prior position. Chests close, faces even closer. He reaches between your bodies and to his rock hard cock, carefully wrapping a hand around himself as he guides his aching dick towards you. Touch faint to ensure things don’t end prematurely for you both.

He presses his head to your folds, coating himself in your arousal and you both gasp at the sheer contact of the other. You were both virtually at the edge already, despite not having touched each other properly yet. It was as if this has been building for months and months and months. And now that you’re finally touching skin, it’s nearly impossible to contain yourselves. Control yourselves.

He taps his head at your cunt a couple times, swirling it around briefly before lining up with you, tip of his cock resting perfectly against your entrance. Stilling for a second, he simply allows a moment to soak all of this in, take it in that this really is happening. But he can’t leave you waiting too long, especially when you’re looking up at him so keenly.

And so he leans in to kiss you, lips locked with yours as he simultaneously feeds himself into you, cock worming its way inside your pussy. You gasp into his mouth and the noise vibrates on your tongues, the sound becoming a strained muffle. He mirrors you with a groan of his own, unable to keep himself quiet from the way you feel wrapped around him.

Bucky retracts his hand from his dick and places it on your cheek, holding you as he sinks more of himself inside, moving slowly so as to allow you time to adjust. Eventually easing the entirety of himself in you. Balls pressing firmly to your folds from the depth of him. 

You feel even better than he imagined. So warm, so snug, so safe. And he has to pause, halt any further movement so that he doesn’t explode right now and then. 

Your fingers grasp at his hair, using it as something to hold onto — something to pour your intense want into. You break the kiss and your head falls back against the cushion, weight of it growing far too heavy to hold up. 

“I can feel you in my stomach,” you whine in a whisper, eyes half lidded as you peer up at him.

He shakes his head and his brows furrow, the utter filth you whispered seeming to strip him of his control, and he wasn’t entirely happy about it either. He’s wanted this for seven months and it was over in as many seconds. He groans faintly from atop and strength vanishes from his neck; forehead resting against yours as he empties himself into you. Muttering indecipherable nonsense

“I'm so sorry,” he murmurs, clearly embarrassed. 

You’ve grown rather engrossed in the lewd display above you and you find yourself smiling, head shaking sweetly. “Not at all.”

He kisses the underside of your jaw and the crown of your head tilts backwards, exposing the full length of your throat to him. His mouth linger on the base of it and you begin to speak, your words vibrating against his lips.

“Well,” you pause. “I think…”

“Mhm?” he hums, head lifting to look you in the face.

“I think you should stay the night,” you start, eyes honing in on his, emphasising your severity. “And I think you should make it up to me.”

Who was he to object such a request?

“Yeah?” he smiles lazily, speaking softly between the close distance. “Lead me to your room.”

And who were you to object such a request?

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[fandoms--fluff]

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

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

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

[httpvomitello]

hey beautiful human💕

I just had a thought and had to share

so could I please request Bucky x gf reader, Bucky and reader get a call from Cap that there’s a mission and they need to leave asap but buckys growing his hair out again and he gets annoyed when it gets in the way while he fights so on the quinjet reader braids it out the way for him and they have a quiet moment before they get to the mission guns blazing

have a lovely weekend, make sure to rest🫶🏻

Hiii beautiful person, I don't know if you've seen the movie How to Train Your Dragon (the second movie), but there's a part where Astrid is sitting with Hiccup and she braids his hair. When I read your request, I immediately remembered that scene and I thought it was really cute! I hope you have a really nice week too, and don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well. Hope you like it ~ ♡

Tangled, Then Untangled .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Bucky’s been growing his hair out again, and it's starting to annoy him when it falls into his eyes during fights, so you braid it back for him.

bucky barnes x f!reader

The early morning light was just starting to peek through the curtains when your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You groaned, rolling over to see the caller ID: Steve Rogers.

Bucky stirred next to you, half-asleep, shirtless, and very much not ready to deal with the world. “Tell him no,” he mumbled into the pillow.

You snorted. “You want me to tell Captain America to handle it himself?”

Bucky waved a dismissive hand, face still buried. “Exactly.”

But you answered anyway. “Yeah, Steve?”

“Sorry to call so early. We’ve got a situation. We need you and Bucky suited up and ready to move in twenty. Quinjet leaves from base.”

“Copy that. We’ll be there.”

Bucky groaned louder this time as you ended the call. “Traitor.”

“Come on, soldier. Time to be a hero.”

He sat up slowly, hair wild and falling into his face. You caught the look he gave it in the mirror across the room—the way it flopped into his eyes, then tangled at his jaw. He muttered something under his breath and combed his fingers through it, only making it worse.

“You’re the one who said you missed it long,” you reminded him, tugging on your clothes. “The mess comes with it.”

“I missed the look, not the knots,” he grumbled, grabbing his tactical gear and sliding it on.

You made it to the Quinjet just in time. Steve greeted you both with a nod, then filled you in on the mission—standard extraction gone sideways, possible Hydra involvement, high-value intel.

Bucky leaned back in one of the metal seats, his legs spread out and arms folded. His hair was already sticking to his cheekbones, strands falling over his eyes again. You watched him try to shake it away, annoyed.

You moved closer, kneeling in front of him between his legs. “Come here.”

He gave you a tired look. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your damn hair before it gets you killed.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t move away. “Knock yourself out.”

You reached up and gently combed your fingers through the strands first, detangling the worst of it. He closed his eyes at the touch, letting you work. Your fingers were slow, practiced—starting at the crown, dividing the thick dark waves into sections.

You worked in silence, the soft hum of the jet surrounding you. It was one of those moments where everything slowed down. You felt the warmth of his knees against your sides, the rhythm of his breathing, the way he was still leaning into your touch even with the mission ahead.

He opened one eye lazily. “This domestic enough for you?”

You smiled. “Extremely.”

When you were done, you secured the braid with a band from your wrist and leaned back to admire your work. “There. Battle-ready.”

He reached up, fingers brushing the braid, then let his hand drop to your cheek. “Thanks, doll.”

“You’re welcome, soldier.”

He pulled you gently forward by the collar of your tactical suit, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t needy. It was calm.

“I hate that we always get pulled into hell right after moments like this,” he muttered.

“I know,” you whispered. “But we’ll come back. We always do.”

The jet jerked slightly as it began its descent. Steve called back, “Two minutes out!”

You stood, adjusting your gloves. Bucky followed you, sliding a knife into his boot and checking his gun. You both stood at the open door of the Quinjet as the ramp lowered.

Wind rushed in, loud and fierce.

“Ready?” you shouted.

He nodded, braid whipping behind him. “Let's fucking go.”

[sunday-bug]

Would you ever write a fic about Bucky taking care of you during your period?

Of course! Here's some super short fluff for my period homies.

The cramps are unreal. Sometimes having a uterus is torture from the Gods. Why must you suffer for not procreating? There’s too many people on this planet anyway - weren’t you doing Mother Earth a favor? 

“Baby girl,” Bucky mumbles, peering into the bathroom where you are trying to relax in a hot bubble bath. 

“Hmm?” You say, looking up at him in the doorway.

“I brought you a snack and some water,” he whispers, passing them to you through the door, giving you your privacy.

“Aww, thanks, babe,” you remark, taking the items from his warm hand. “You’re so sweet. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Okay, love you,” he says before shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Love you,” you reply loudly enough so he can hear you. You look at the snack he gave you - a dark chocolate bar with almonds and orange. It’s your favorite kind from that fancy chocolatier a few blocks away. He must have just gotten this. You take a big drink of water and lean back into the bath, letting the hot water soothe your muscles. Breaking off a small chunk of chocolate, you let it melt on your tongue and try not to moan at the mixture of sweet orange and chocolate with the salty almond flavor. You lie in the bath for a while, trying to ease your cramps, and eat another piece of the chocolate before getting out and drying off.

Once you’re in your coziest sweatpants and one of Bucky’s old t-shirts, you pad out to the living room to find him. 

“C’mere, love,” he says, holding up the heating pad and patting the couch cushion next to him. You smile and snuggle into the couch. He places the heating pad on your lower abdomen and settles in next to you, tucking you comfortably into his side. His free hand trails fingertips down your bare arm. “You need anything?” 

“No, this is perfect,” you say, nuzzling into him. 

“I thought we could watch that romantic comedy you’ve been wanting to see. The one with that actor you like… I can’t remember his name. Anyway, I have it queued up for us. And I ordered curry and garlic naan. It’s on the way for dinner.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t think I could love you more, yet here I am,” you muse, looking up at him. “A movie you’re going to loathe and my favorite takeout? Buck, you’re the best.” You lean up to give him a soft kiss. “It’s Chris Evans, by the way… the actor I like.”

“Right… that guy. Ugh.” Bucky says with a playful eye roll. You cuddle into him and feel so at peace that you forget about your cramps. At least for a little while.

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

[majestyeverlasting]

Nello! I have a request/suggestion for a Bucky drabble-y something if you'd like it. Maybe he's on a mission or there's an attack and it's going *very* poorly for him but he gets saved by a sweet civilian who's probably hopped up on a LOT of adrenaline

𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲 | 𝐛.𝐛.

A/N Thank you so much for this request, anon! Bucky isn’t on a mission, per se, more like he ends up making a certain situation his “mission.” 

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Summary After an unexpected and intense fight, you’re the kind stranger who comes to Bucky’s aid. Except, you can’t shake the pressing feeling that you’ve seen each other once before. [fluff, angst, firing of a weapon, 2.6k]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Darkness hangs over Hell’s Kitchen as the heavy beat of Bucky’s heart drums on. The high-pitched ringing in his ears nearly drowns out the trudge of his boots against the sidewalk. Each labored step sends another wave of pain radiating through his ribcage. By now, he’s far enough away from Nicolo’s Bistro to be seen, where police and ambulances are finally pulling up with glaring halos of red and blue, sirens wailing. 

As Bucky turns into a dingy alleyway, he finally allows himself to release the pathetic grunts that have been attempting to claw out of throat since the moment he left the establishment. The pungent smell of garbage rides on the breeze as he presses his back up against the cool brick wall, sliding down until he hits the pebbled ground. 

He can’t remember the last time being off his feet felt so good. That’s all he’d wanted upon entering the bistro earlier. To sit down and have a meal before venturing back to Brooklyn. 

𝟷 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁

The table he’s given along the front windows gives sight to the evening bustle outside. There’s a dim ambience to that place that’s homey and charming. Basil and garlic linger in the air. A waitress with a long jet-black ponytail takes his order of carbonara and the house red. Just as she leaves, three men in fedoras enter, with hard eyes and strong noses. 

A wary feeling flutters in his gut. 

Rather than being seated in the main dining room, they’re escorted into the back by a worker. Nicolo, the broad-shouldered owner of the restaurant, is no sooner notified of their arrival. The look of dread that washes over his face is Bucky’s second clue that something is amiss. But there’s an eerie calm that follows.

Halfway into his meal, hushed, angry voices finally emit from the back room. The only reason Bucky can hear them is the serum’s heightening of his senses: 

Nicolo’s voice registers first, “Sobrini, please, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s well past time,” comes a gruff, thickly accented voice. “I invested in this shithole and haven’t seen anywhere near what I’m owed.” 

“It’s coming—please, there has to be a better way,” Nicolo reasons. “There are customers out there.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck.” 

That’s when a lone warning shot rings out. 

A few patrons jolt in shock, heads whipping around. You startle as you take a sip from your bubbling glass of champagne, sending the liquid running down your chin.

Bucky's on his feet in an instant, “Everybody out!” 

The moment you slip out of your booth, the confrontation spills out into the main dining area as Nicolo backs out of the room with his hands held up in surrender. All three men are stalking towards him, and the bulkier one—undeniably Sobrini—has a revolver drawn. 

“Now they all get to see your brains being blown out,” he quips.

 Bucky wastes no time rushing to the owner's defense, sprinting over to Sobrini, and using his vibranium hand to block a bullet when he pulls the trigger. Nicolo's face flushes with relief as he gratefully runs for the door, steering other frantic patrons out along the way. 

With Nicolo gone, the group of mobsters redirect their anger to Bucky and his daring boldness. 

“And who the hell are you?” Before Sobrini can pull the trigger again, Bucky disarms him with a few swift swipes and blows, bending the gun out of shape before letting it clink to the ground. 

“Mikey, Vinny!” Sobrini growls. 

Like two mad dogs given attack orders, the other men launch forward to gang up on Bucky. They’re stronger than he’s expecting—too strong. Super soldiers. Glasses and plates crash from the tables as Vinny, the taller of the two, kicks Bucky square in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. He’s quick to recover, promptly delivering his own series of strikes in retaliation. 

Heart hammering in your ears, you help usher the last of the patrons and employees outside. When you dare to look back in, Mikey has managed to get Bucky in a chokehold from behind. Only then do you notice the glint of his vibranium hand as he pries at the man’s thick forearm.

As Bucky coughs for air, realization dawns on you like a rushing tide. For a flicker of a second, he catches your eyes in the doorway before managing to free himself from the hold.

A second wind finds him as the brawl becomes a fierce three-on-one ordeal.

Nicolo pulls you away from the door for your own safety.

It’d been two years since Bucky’s last fight, and he hated that this made a part of him feel alive again. 

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃

Just as his eyes begin to flutter closed with exertion, he hears a soft, urgent voice that he thinks he’s imagining. It prompts him to remember that he’s seated in a dirty alleyway, propped against a wall. 

“Are you alright?” Your eyes dart over his bruised face, split lip, and bloodied knuckles. “Don’t close your eyes, stay with me.” You gently pat your hand against his stubbled cheek. Some of his long, dark hair is matted to the sweat on his face.

The only reason you knew where to find him is because you’d watched him stagger from the scene after neutralizing the three intruders in a feat of athleticism if you ever saw one. Your own hands are still buzzing with adrenaline. 

He manages to meet your gaze, but his bloodshot blue eyes never focus. You can see that he’s trying, which only makes concern swell in your chest all the more. 

“You need to go to the ER,” you say, brows furrowing. That seems to shake him a bit. 

“No…” he trails off, then coughs, wincing. “No doctors. Please.” 

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as if debating to heed his request. Looking out to the street, you see that nobody has taken notice of the two of you.

You then say, “Can you walk? My place isn’t far.”

•••

Climbing the stairs is the hardest part. Despite your offer to lean his weight on you, Bucky stubbornly relies on the railing for all four floors. By the time you unlock your apartment door and usher him inside, he realizes he’s made a mistake. He should’ve insisted he’d be fine, that after the initial shock wore off, his body would begin to mend itself back to wholeness.

Except, he can’t remember the last time someone had spoken to him so sweetly. 

As selfish as it was, it felt good to be on the receiving end of genuine concern. Nowadays, people just assumed he was okay because he was the Winter Soldier, and that’s what the Winter Soldier was supposed to do—dust himself off and get back up. Yet here you were acting like he was someone worth being taken care of.

He all but collapses onto the couch once you lead him over to it. In the back of his mind, he worries about getting it dirty, but you don’t seem to care as you flutter out of the living room.

The air smells faintly of cinnamon and vanilla, and small decorative pumpkins sit on the windowsill. Pain pulses in his neck as he takes a better look around, but he does it anyway. The entire space is modest and cozy, clearly lived-in and well-loved. 

By the time you come back, he’s dozed off, thick thighs spread and chin tucked down to his chest. This happens sometimes—his body crashes into sleep to facilitate healing. It only occurs when he feels safe. Otherwise, the rush of adrenaline keeps him wide awake. 

He can just barely register the gentleness of your movements as you tilt his head up to dab away the blood with a cool towel. You continue on like that, cleaning up the wounds that broke the skin, which thankfully aren’t too plentiful. Occasionally, his eyes flutter open, but you never ask him any questions or force him to talk. A comfortable silence settles between you until all the dried blood is gone.  

An hour later, he wakes up, finding that he’s stretched along the entirety of the couch with a blanket draped over his frame. His pain has subsided immensely. As he sits upright, he notices that you’re curled up in the accent chair. A special news report drones low on the TV.

“All the men have been taken into custody,” you tell him. Bucky eyes flitter over your face as you speak, realizing that his mind is finally clear enough to welcome the whispers of recognition. 

He’d seen many people over the course of his long life, and your face was among those he’d never be able to forget. 

You continue as his heart rises into his throat, “They don’t know it was you who saved everyone,” you say, toying with the hem of your sweater. “If they do, they haven’t said your name.” 

The air goes dead silent for a fleeting moment.

“You know my name?” It’s a question he already knows the answer to. 

You study his face, handsome even with the bruises. “James Buchanan Barnes, the Asset, the Winter Soldier…” 

He swallows thickly, abruptly standing to his feet as guilt and shame churn in his stomach. “Thank you for your help, but—” 

“Please don’t go,” you insist. It feels like you’re staring straight through him.  

“I have to. I’m sorry.” He weaves towards the door, heat rising to his cheeks. 

The events of an afternoon from many moons ago come rushing into the forefront of his mind. First, a group of suited men barking orders as he listened with emotionless eyes. Then the glint of his metal arm wrapped around the neck of a S.H.I.E.L.D. contractor on Park Avenue. As the man strangled out pleas, your cries joined in, begging for the life of your friend to be spared—

Bucky thinks back to earlier when he was being choked, the sense of helplessness.

You stand from the chair but don’t follow after him. “Did you want to take a shower at least?” you offer, hope infused into your words. It only made sense considering the sweat and grime still lingering on his skin. 

The thought of a shower sounds too good. But not here, not now. He never should’ve come. 

—As the contractor had gripped at his Bucky’s arm for mercy, he remembered glaring over at you. The mask concealing the lower half of his face hid his snarl, but his glare could cut stone. Except, you weren’t made of stone. You were skin, and bone, and desperation. It ended up being your fear-ridden eyes that did all the cutting.

It was as if you were wordlessly pleading, please, you don’t have to do this. Like you could see that he was trapped inside the prison of his own being. 

But by the time his hold went slack around the man’s neck, it was already too late. His body slumped lifelessly to the ground. 

“I forgive you," you call out right as Bucky steps into the hallway and is seconds away from closing the door.

That stops him in his tracks and sends a chill through his bones.

“Please don’t go,” you say, much softer. 

•••

Tucked away in an old journal, was a list of amends Bucky was supposed to make. He’d managed to cross off all those names. But there’s no way he’d ever be able to account for every life he changed, every friend and family member he snatched away from people he would never even come to know.

This reality weighs heavy on him as he stands in the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself when he looked in the mirror. Faint knocking sounds at the door.

He clears the thickness from his throat, “Yes?”

“Special delivery,” you say lightly. “My neighbor had some clothes to spare.”

When he opens the door, your eyes flick to his torso, the bruising along his ribcage. There’s a dusting of hair on his chest, and a line of it that leads down from his bellybutton. It takes a second for you to register that he isn’t wearing his vibranium arm. Maybe it's because of the steady, broad way he’s standing there as if the limb isn’t gone at all.

He accepts the clothes, “Thank you.”

Bucky doesn’t close the door as he turns to set them on the sink. In the process, you notice there are old scars on his back with dark new bruises mixed amongst them. Before you can stop yourself, you step forward, brushing over his shoulder blades with tentative fingers. He straightens, briefly closing his eyes at the tenderness. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You begin to back out of the room. “I have painkillers if they’d help.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m alright.”

“I’ll let you get dressed then.”

Moments later, Bucky finds you in your room seated on the side of your bed. Your startle, swiping at the tears beneath your eyes before turning to look at him. When he sees that you’ve been crying, he feels like the worst person in the world again, an awful feeling resettling in his gut. 

“I can go,” he says. 

You shake your head and pat the space beside you. 

Bucky lingers in the doorway until giving in. The mattress dips as he sits, making sure to leave ample space between you. Even then you can feel the warmth of his proximity, smell your body wash on his skin. Neither of you say anything for a while. 

“Why are you doing all this?” For such an imposing man, his voice comes out small. 

“Because I see you.” Bucky swallows at your words, gaze remaining on the floor. “I saw you eight years ago, and I see you now.” 

He realizes then, that if he truly wanted to, he would’ve left already. He didn’t know what he wanted, what more he was expecting. He’d already taken enough—your friend, your resources, your time. 

“You know what I believe?” Bucky waits for you to continue. “That you’re a good person,” you say solemnly. 

“You didn’t even hesitate back at Nicolo’s. You stepped right up.”

“It was nothing,” he lightly dismisses.

“Nothing?” 

Bucky looks over at you, and you raise your brows. “It was the right thing to do,” he finally says. 

“And you easily could’ve just walked away.” 

He gets your point then. The plates of his arm whir softly. 

“I was angry at you for a long time,” you admit. “Even though I knew who you were, the control you were under.”

“I’m sorry—”

“And the more time that passed, the more I realized my anger wasn’t entirely fair,” you say. “Life’s not fair. But staying rooted to the same spot doesn’t do anyone any good.” 

Bucky doesn’t pull away when you reach over and take his hand in yours, gently running your fingers over his bruised knuckles in a mix of sympathy and wonder. He watches as you flip his palm face-up, tracing the lines with a delicate touch. He feels it all the way up his arm, the gesture painfully intimate. Having seen each other at your lowest, most vulnerable moments has a way of knocking down walls. 

“Ask me why I’m doing all this again,” you say.

Bucky meets your gaze. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Outside, distant sirens wail into the Manhattan night.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

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[mercurial-chuckles]

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Olivia Barnes x Ethan Stark Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to sex | MDNI | Protective dad Bucky | Grumpy Bucky | Ethan 'Menace' Stark | Friends to lovers trope | Chaos galore | Tom Welling as Ethan Stark 🤭 | Unbeta'd | Let me know if I’m missing anything. Word Count: ~2.5k A/N: @soelstress sowed this idea in my head after reading Sappy Sunday Thought. Thank you, my lovely Soels! I have no clue how far and how deep I'm gonna spiral with this, but hey...this is a start. 💕🤭 I had a whole different banner, but after those recent pictures of Seb, I had to change... he's giving major Zaddy vibes, NGL! 😏😉👀 This is also my submission to Cranky!Grumpy!Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge | @yenzys-lucky-charm | 🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss & Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge | @gremlin-girly | Bucky Barnes + 7Q + 5T | Thank you both for hosting 🩷🥹🫂 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

According to Bucky, his wife was a savage.

Bucky was ecstatic until you soured his mood. Because you'd waited until three orgasms later to tell him, right after he pounded you against the wall, while his brain was still trying to catch up, when you delivered the blow. No pun there.

He woke up utterly happy that morning. Your daughter, Olivia, was coming home for the summer. She'd just completed her junior year at university, and you had both been counting the days until you saw your baby.

Over the past month, your daughter and husband had been busy planning quite a few activities for all of you. Bucky had even cut down most of his training schedule for the summer, too. You, unfortunately, didn't have the same luxury. The project you and Tony have been working on with DOE was heading into fabrication, and you needed to put in a few more days of brutal work hours before you could dial down.

This visit was extra special. Olivia hadn't been home last summer. She'd spent it halfway across the country, interning at a start-up company in a research program, which she still heard her Uncle Tony whine about it. Most holidays were little weekend sprints. But this time, she was staying for the whole summer.

'Coz this time, she'd landed an internship with the research team at the compound after clearing a written exam and three rounds of interviews. Out of all the applicants, she was one of the three selected to intern at AI.

Tony had no idea, and Olivia had begged Pepper and Maria to keep it low. Olivia was too humble. She was determined to prove herself on her merit, not wanting anyone to think she'd been accepted into the program simply because of her connections. You were proud of your daughter. But there was no doubt Tony would be squealing when he found out Olivia was back and working at the compound, no less.

Bucky had been practically buzzing with excitement, already pulling on his jacket to head for the airport when you casually told him that he'd also be picking up Ethan Stark, who was flying with Olivia.

Bucky's pleasure-ridden mood fizzled out drastically. He turned to glare at you.

On the same fucking plane.

The absolute nightmare.

"Why the fuck was I not aware of this?" He snapped, stalking after you as you got dressed for work.

"Bucky," you sighed, not even sparing him a glance. You were running late, and it was all Bucky's fault. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, not that you minded very much.

It wasn't unpopular that your husband despised Ethan Stark from the moment Olivia was born--mostly because that kid had taken an immediate, obnoxious liking toward his daughter. And it had only gotten worse over time.

"No, seriously. Did you know that they were flying together?" Bucky pressed, backing you up against the couch with his hands caging you in. You tried to shuffle away, but he pushed his thigh between your legs.

"Hey," you squeaked, giggling and squirming, a little sensitive from earlier.

You tried to push him away, chuckling, but he didn't budge. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he flexed his muscles just right, making you moan.

"Tell me," he demanded. You found his pouty, murderous expression endearing.

Honestly, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd only found out last night that Olivia and Ethan were flying home together. Smart girl that she was, Olivia hadn't breathed a word to her dad either, probably because it was common knowledge in your house that Bucky had a short fuse where Ethan Stark was concerned.

You hadn't meant to hide it.

Maybe you did.

You just figured it wasn't worth mentioning since Ethan already had a ride home from the airport, and you knew Bucky would go no matter what to pick Olivia. So, you decided not to poke the bear, if not required. But then Pepper called, asking for a favor, and honestly, you could never say no to her.

You sighed, winding your arms around his neck. Bucky leaned into you without the slightest resistance, his scorching blue eyes fanning the embers, sparking that wicked burn inside your core.

Fuck, he looked delectable. You'd gotten ridiculously lucky. The silver in his beard, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those soft pink lips--all of it made you giddy. And he was all yours.

You pushed up onto your toes, one hand sliding to cup his jaw, your thumb dragging lightly over the coarse scruff. Bucky's breath came slower, as he relaxed into your touch, his jaw unclenching under your touch as he melted closer, letting you pull him exactly where you wanted.

"Bucky," you said sweetly, gently, pecking his lips and scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, moving to take more, but you slightly inched away, "They've been friends forever. They go to the same school."

"Yeah, still haven't gotten over that shit," Bucky grumbled, recalling the day Olivia got an admit to MIT, where Ethan Stark was pursuing his PhD.

"Ethan's a good kid. Besides, he really cares about her," You added before you could stop yourself.

And boy, you really should have shut up after 'good kid.'

Bucky looked absolutely repulsed, like you'd suggested he walk Olivia down the aisle--something you weren't supposed to talk about, let alone think, according to him. That was his rule. To him, Olivia was still his little baby, and he didn't have to worry about that just yet.

"Exactly. That's the fucking problem. He cares too much," Bucky growled, looking like he was about to punch something.

Ugh! You banged your head against his chest, frustrated.

This was going to be a long summer.

You wished Steve or Sam were here instead of on a mission. They would've picked up the kids from the airport without throwing a fit, unlike your husband.

"I'm NOT getting into this discussion. AGAIN. I need to get to the lab, or Tony's gonna roast me," you warned, wiggling out of his grip, and he reluctantly let you.

"Pepper asked. Please, Buck?" you requested again, rushing toward the door. When you heard nothing, you glanced back to see him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, frown still intact. He looked way too adorable for your own good.

Groaning, you marched back to him and dropped yourself into his lap. His hands automatically wound around you, helping you straddle his lap and tugging you closer, still refusing to look at you.

Stubborn little shit.

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"Bucky, please?"

"No."

"Bucky."

"No."

"I'll do anything," you tried, wiggling your brows.

"Don't bribe me with your body. It's mine." Bucky exclaimed, squeezing your tit in retaliation. He was not wrong. That kind of deal never worked on your husband.

"Bucky," you tried again, exasperated.

"Fine, anything?" He asked, eyes narrowed at you.

You nodded earnestly.

"Call Pepper and tell her I can't pick up her son." He scoffed.

When you sat there with your game face, silently throwing daggers and not ready to budge, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he conceded, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

****

Cramped into the narrow economy seat on a completely packed flight, Olivia Barnes was a nervous wreck. She hadn't planned to be anxious she was super excited to finally see you and her dad, but then her phone buzzed just as they were taxiing for takeoff.

Livi, Dad's gonna pick you and Ethan up. Love you. Can't wait to see you. Safe travels to you both.

Her stomach dropped.

Uh-oh.

Normally, that kind of text wouldn't bother her that much.

Except things were different now.

Very different.

Olivia knew her dad wasn't exactly a fan of Ethan--or any of her guy friends, for that matter. Bucky had a way of scaring most of her guy friends without even trying, but Ethan was different. He didn't scare easily. Olivia actually kind of enjoyed the back-and-forth between the two of them. But now, things were different. Now, she wanted Ethan to be in her dad's good books. Scratch that--his best books.

The tall, annoyingly handsome man sitting next to her, currently wrestling to fit his long legs into a comfortable position, was no longer just her best friend. He was her boyfriend. And no one knew. Well, except for Morgan and most surely aunt Nat.

Trying to steady her racing heart, Olivia leaned toward Ethan and hissed under her breath, "Why didn't you just sit in first class when they offered?"

Right before boarding, an airline associate had bumped Ethan's seat to first class--the perks of being Ethan Stark, son of the legendary Tony Stark.

A girl had recognized him despite his pathetic disguise of a baseball cap and dark glasses. "How's the ruse working, Superman?" Olivia had teased when the associate beamed at him, whispering about the upgrade. Ethan had flat-out denied it and stubbornly refused, choosing to stay right next to Olivia.

"In your dreams," he said now, flashing a grin that made her stomach flip warmly. "I'm sitting right next to you. Deal with it."

To make his point clear, Ethan moved one of his legs between hers, lifting her leg onto his and resting his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved her phone toward him, showing him your text.

Ethan read it.

Blinked.

Blinked.

Blinked some more.

Then chuckled low and rough in his chest.

"Fuck me," he muttered, wide-eyed, looking at her.

"Ethan," Olivia snapped quietly, swatting his hand away from her thigh. "You need to be on your absolute best behavior. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, do not irk him."

"I never do," Ethan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He pulled her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with hers. "He just hates me because I love you."

Olivia groaned, helplessly.

"Are you listening?" she grumbled weakly. "Until we break it to your mom and dad, and my mom, and Uncle Stevie and Sammy, we are playing it cool."

"And, will you stay as far away from as humanly possible, please?" she added.

Ethan smacked his lips in annoyance, squinting at her.

"Yeah, that? Can't do that," he said stubbornly, inching closer, and quickly pecked her lips.

"Ethan," she glared at him, "I'm fucking serious."

"So am I," he said simply.

"I can't!" He shrugged. "How am I supposed to hold back when you keep looking at me like that?"

"I'm glaring at you," Olivia said flatly.

"And you're hot," Ethan said, sniggering as he shamelessly snuggled his head onto her shoulder.

"Guess you'll have to try real hard then," she muttered, trying not to laugh. He was warm, smelled so good, and his floofy hair tickled her neck.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, sitting up with a little pout. But not before stealing a quick kiss on her shoulder, making her stomach tingle.

"Fuck you, Ethan," she said, picking up the magazine from the flap in front of her, trying to distract herself.

"I'm game," he whispered warmly against her ear, winking at her.

Feeling her entire face heat up, she beat him with the magazine. He simply laughed.

"Alright. Distance. Noted," he chuckled, but made himself comfortable again, resting his head on the curve of her shoulder. He slept there for the next hour.

Not that she minded.

~

By the time the plane landed in LaGuardia, Olivia was more anxious.

Bucky's text was already waiting when they turned their phones back on.

Shared my location. See ya in a bit. Love you, sweetheart.

Olivia's palms were sweating.

They had to be friendly... but not too friendly.

Close enough to not look suspicious. Distant enough to protect Ethan from her dad's wrath.

To her absolute horror, Ethan snuck in a kiss at the baggage claim. "Don't know when I'll see you alone again," he said dramatically. As Olivia reached for her suitcase, he snagged her wrist, pulling her into him for a kiss.

Olivia jerked back so fast that she nearly toppled the luggage cart.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she whisper-yelled, throwing a frantic look around.

Ethan snorted, "Relax, my Livi. Your dad's there," he said smugly, showing her phone where Bucky's location was blinking.

She gave him a dirty glare and marched ahead, clutching her backpack tightly.

And that's exactly how Bucky found them a few minutes later--Olivia marching stiffly forward, searching for him, with Ethan trailing behind her, grinning.

His gaze narrowed the second he spotted them.

What started as a survival skill, observation became instinctual for Bucky Barnes. And he was hyper-focused when you or his daughter were in the picture.

So, he didn't miss the way Olivia's ears turned pink when she saw him.

He didn't miss the way Ethan instinctively shifted a little closer to her before catching himself and awkwardly veering right.

When Olivia rushed to hug him happily, he didn't miss the smell of Ethan Stark's perfume on his daughter.

He didn't miss a damn thing.

~

Bucky barely said a word to Ethan after the initial greeting.

"Ethan," Bucky acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Sir," Ethan replied with a grin.

Olivia climbed into the passenger seat, nervous, while Ethan tossed both of their bags into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. He positioned himself right behind her seat.

Bucky glanced at them both, his eyes flickering between Olivia's stiff posture and Ethan's relaxed form.

"Good flight?" he asked casually.

"Great!" Olivia blurted out, flashing a smile.

"Terrible," Ethan chimed in simultaneously, leaning back with a dramatic sigh.

Olivia shot him a look through the side mirror.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze shifting to the mirror where he caught Ethan's reflection.

"Terrible?" he echoed, starting the car.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, you know… long legs and economy seats."

"Thought you'd travel first-class," Bucky pointed out, pulling out onto the next lane.

Olivia stiffened.

"Dad," Olivia chided. This passive aggression was nothing new, but that remark wasn't cool.

Ethan chuckled, "Yeah, well… first class is a bit expensive, sir. I'm saving money."

Apart from a million other things, this was what Olivia loved the most about him. Ethan Stark was a self-made man, just like her. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her dad's lips, a nearly imperceptible sign of approval at Ethan's answer.

That was a damn miracle right there.

Great job, Ethan! She thought...too soon, though.

"Though they did bump me into first class, I couldn't leave Livi alone back there," Ethan added.

Fucking menace was what he was! Ugh! Dickhead!

Olivia nearly facepalmed.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward her, then back to the road. "Didn't realize you two couldn't survive a couple of hours apart," he bit out.

The tension in the car thickened instantly.

Olivia forced a laugh that sounded more like a choking. "Dad…"

"Kidding," Bucky hummed, his tone unreadable.

He was so not kidding, alright!

For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Olivia stared determinedly out the window, holding back the urge to scream at the man she loved--and at the same time, wanting to kick him out of the car so she could breathe and catch up with her dad normally.

God, he was annoying. She specifically told him not to irk her dad, but nope. What was he even thinking?

Meanwhile, Ethan seemed entirely too comfortable lounging in the back seat, utterly unbothered by the tension filling in the tiny space.

Quite dreadful, really. And the summer had barely even started.

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[0rosexmulti0]

Personal Assistant-Part 1

Paring: Millionaire Reality Star!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

This will be broken up into parts!

Part 1 | Part 2

You and bucky had been best friends since you could remember. After college you had lost contact until you started looking for a job. You wanted to get into acting so it wasn’t a surprise that you took a job offer from your new friend. The day of auditions you got the address from the friend. You weren’t prepared of the role you were applying for, so you dressed nice. You took an uber to the audition, you arrive at a mansion. You immediately are more nervous than before. You walk up to the door and knock gently. A man dressed in a suit answers the door. He asks if you are here for the audition. You nod, he smiles and takes you into the living room. He offers to get you a drink and you politely decline. A few minutes go by, and you get brought into a studio. You walk to the other side of the glass; you notice a ring that looked oddly familiar. The tell you that the role you are auditioning for is a personal assistant in a reality show. As you start to read the script you are interrupted by a familiar voice. As he walks into the room you make eye contact. James Barnes but this time he wasn’t a kid anymore. This time he was taller, stronger, and more handsome than you remember. He was wearing an expensive black suit with the sleeves cuffed up just enough to see a few veins in his arm. You swallowed hard at the sight of him, you could feel old feelings resurfacing. He doesn’t say anything to you, he just starts looking around. You realize he’s looking for the ring on the table of your side. You grab it and walk around the glass and ask him if it’s what he was looking for. His expression starts to soften but not before he realizes where his is. He coughs and takes it, “Thank you Ms-?” he looks at you waiting for a response. “F/N” you say looking at the ground. He sits on the couch spreading his legs. “Well, since I interrupted, I might as well watch your audition. Saves us time, I’m the one who calls the shots. If I don’t like it, you don’t get a call back” He grabs a notepad and pen, you walk back to the other side of the glass and read the scripts. At the end you see Bucky hand the producer the notepad. Buck starts to walk out, as he leaves you swear, he throws you a wink. “Y/n?” The producer says calling you into reality. “James wrote that he wanted you hired now”. You thank them. They say that you will be moving in until production ends. Explaining filming is in a week, they want the main cast to adjust. You nod and they escort you to a car. You arrive at your home and collect your things. You head back and they show you to your room. You gasp at the room’s size. After unpacking you decide to explore. As you walk out on your phone you bump into someone causing you to drop it. You quickly look up to see who it was. Bucky looks down at you with a smirk and pins you against the wall, before saying “Who’s so important you to not be paying attention?” You try to answer but the words seem not come out. He grabs your chin, “Are you planning on answering your new boss’s question doll or do you need a lesson of professionalism and manners?” Your face is beyond pink from blushing its practically red. “Boss? What does that mean? I was just having an argument and it got heated that’s all” you try to turn your head, but he holds it still. “You didn’t know that I’m the person you will be assisting in this show? Was it Steve?” he says the last part with a concern in his voice. “How did you remember? You didn’t even remember my name.” You say rolling your eyes. He smirks “How could I ever forget you doll? I just have a reputation to worry about now. I didn’t want it to seem like I gave you this position because you’re the cute girl I used to hang out with” As he says the last few words it feels like he breathed them into your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Before he releases you, he says “Don’t think I didn’t know about your crush doll.” He cockily grins at you then walks away leaving you lost for words. You hear him hum to himself “This’ll be fun”.

[ro-is-struggling]

Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

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It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."

[flowersforbucky]

all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

••••••

thanks so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[stuckymonkey]

Stolen

Mafia Bucky Au

Pairing - mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Summary - y/n lived an ordinary life as a surgical resident in New York. Her father left when she was young, and her mother recently passed away. Bucky was promised by her father to get his firstborn daughter, unfortunately for y/n, that fits her description perfectly. Kind of enemies to lovers.

Warnings - violence, angst, being taken against will/kidnapping, mentions of death, stitches and medical things, mentions of suicide, mild cursing

Word count - 3.5k

a/n - i was feeling some angst, let me know what you think! feedback is always appreciated!

masterlist bucky masterlist

"Clamp" Joe said from across to table to one of the scrub nurses. "Lap pads" I said. We were doing a coronary artery bypass graft on a six year old patient. Five hours in and Lena was doing really well. She had maintained stability the entire time, making recovery look good for her.

I was about to irrigate when the door to the OR burst open. Me and Joe didn't look up, too focused on finishing Lena's cabg, starting to close up her heart with delicate sutures. "Y/n Y/L/N?" a low masculine voice boomed out. My head shot up to meet Joe's eyes, silently asking what to do. Her eyes were almost as wide as mine.

That voice belonged to James Barnes, head of the Brooklyn mafia. They had access to anywhere and everywhere in Brooklyn, no questions asked.

After having a silent conversation, we both opted to go back to Lena's heart. The voice boomed again, this time louder and much closer. "Y/n, scrub out." Joe whispered. I couldn't scrub out. Not now. Not while it was just me and Joe with a few scrub nurses. She couldn't close alone. "No." I kept suturing, almost to the point where we could start to close up entirely. "What?!" her head jerked up "I said no. You can't close on your own. Lena has been my patient for six months. I know everything about her, and her family. I am finishing this surgery with you and I will be there when they see their baby girl for the first time in six hours." I clipped the last suture, ready to close up her chest. "Y/n, I think you should listen to Joe and scrub out."

I suddenly felt cold metal pressed to my temple. "Put the tools down Y/L/N. I'm not afraid to pull this trigger." I heard the click of a bullet sliding into place at the end of his threat. I was shaking with tears running down my cheeks at this point. "I'm sorry," I said to Joe, it was obvious that I was crying. Through blurry eyes, I saw a tear slide down her cheek too.

What was going to happen to Lena? And her family? What would Joe tell them? I stepped back from the table and let Mike, my favourite nurse, help me take off my gown and relieve my trembling hands from my sterile blue gloves.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't go back to that table. By pressing a gun to my head, James had broken the sterile field. "Well done," James spoke lowly into my ear. I hadn't noticed when, but his hand was wrapped securely around my arm. He led me away from the table, out of the OR and into the hallway where he stood in front of the elevator. The entire time my sobs never ceased and neither did the grip he had on my arm.

He let go before we left the elevator. Outside, many of what were probably his men waited for us. They lined the hallways. I felt like a sheep being herded by big, powerful, scary wolves. Tears were still running down my face as I made eye contact with my Chief of Surgery and Resident Chief. I had grown close with them over the years, and now they were watching me be escorted out of the hospital.

They knew what this meant. I was taken. The mafia had me now. Tears ran down their faces, and the faces of my coworkers who I loved like family. I tried to keep my head up to let them know I would be okay, but I couldn't help the way my shoulder shook from my sobs.

James helped me into a black car. In the front seat was a blonde, with a driver who had dark skin and short hair. I didn't try to hide the fact that I wanted to be anywhere but here. I felt exhausted, more emotionally than mentally.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "Home." James said, adjusting the cuff of his dress shirt. "I hate you, James Barnes." I said, defeat laced in my tone. "Please, call me Bucky." he said. He sounded sad. That bastard. How did he have the nerve to be sad when he is the one who chose to steal me out of my OR. "What are you going to do when I kill myself?" I asked. "You won't kill yourself." the driver spoke up. "Sam-" the blonde said in a nervous and warning tone.

"She won't." he said, looking at the blonde. "You're y/n y/l/n. You're a surgeon." he said, looking at me through the rearview mirror. Everyone's attention was on him as he refocused on the road. "You saved my sister's life, Sarah Wilson. Pancreatic cancer. Four hours after being in your OR she was cancer free. We were told to start planning her funeral. I was signing paperwork to legally adopt my nephews, but you saved her life." he looked into the rearview mirror at me again. "Thank you."

We arrived at "home". During the long ride to the outskirts of Brooklyn, I learned that the blonde's name is Steve. He and Sam were Bucky's seconds in command. Steve helped with the dirty stuff like interrogations, and dealing with orders and shipments of weapons. Sam helped as well but he was also really good at chauffeuring Bucky wherever he needed to go.

There was a very very long gravel driveway leading up to Bucky's huge mansion. It was pretty, I had to admit. Nice dark brick with ivy, a beautiful garden that I bet Steve helped out with, and a peaceful fountain in the center of the drive. I noticed more fountains in the garden area. We had passed tall black iron gates on the way in, giving me an eerie feeling of what the interior of the mansion would be like. Probably dark and scary.

Boy, was I wrong. The inside was beautiful. White marble stairs, golden curtains and natural light everywhere. It felt soft and safe, while still looking professional and wealthy. I was scared to touch anything, it all looked so clean and like everything was in its place.

Bucky dismissed Sam and Steve, leading me up the stairs and to the right of the hall. We walked for quite a bit before he turned into a room. "This is yours. You are to sleep here and I will have all of your stuff here in the next two weeks." He turned to face me, "My office is down the hall to the left, first hall to your right. My room is down the hall to the right, first room on your left hand side. If you need anything, ask me, Sam or Steve. Nobody else lives here but the four of us." he sounded so calm and collected. Did he steal people often?

"I don't live here." I corrected him. The quirk in his eyebrow let me know I shouldn't have spoken. I didn't care. It couldn't get any worse than this. "You do live here. You will not leave this property until you ask me for permission and you have been assigned an escort." "I do not live here! You do not own me, and I am going home. I have to go to work, and I will not stay here." I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to say something.

"Y/n, you live here. Your father promised me his first born daughter just before your mother got pregnant. He was a horrible man, you knew that. Your mother never knew about the deal. You are mine and you will not be leaving. Are we clear?" I hated how the tone of his voice made me clench my thighs together, but I hated even more how he was speaking to me and how he thought he could just keep me here.

"No! I will not stay here! You stole me out of my OR while I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SURGERY! An open heart surgery. A poor young girl's life was in my hands, Bucky!!!! You could have killed her!! She was INNOCENT!! I hate you. She could have died. Her parents have been in and out of hospitals with her for six years!! Six years, Bucky! She is six years old and her whole life has been within the walls of hospitals and I had a chance to change that. You could have ruined her life and I hate you." I was so angry, tears were running down my face again. I felt warm and exhausted. The urge to just sleep and hope this was a really really bad dream came over me. "Get out." I spat through my teeth, daring him to challenge my order.

He almost looked pitiful as he left my room and closed the door behind him.

The bed was uncomfortable, and I had none of my own possessions. Bucky had come in later to apologize, which fell on deaf ears. He had thankfully given me one of his shirts and some sweatpants before he went back to his office. The sheets on the bed were scratchy, and his pants were too warm.

At around 2 a.m, after no luck at sleeping, I slipped out of my room and headed towards his office, just like he had directed. I figured he would be there, being a surgeon I know what it's like to stay up late to get work done, especially if you're stressed. Which I assume he was after kidnapping someone.

I opened the door slowly to reveal Bucky. His jacket was discarded and a few of the buttons on his shirt were undone. "What are you doing here?" He asked after looking up at me. I felt his gaze rake over my body, now only clad in his shirt and a pair of my underwear. "I need your help," I said calmly. I was desperate after only a few hours with this man. I felt pathetic.

Bucky's eyebrow quirked, encouraging me to continue. "My dog, Joe is probably watching her. I wouldn't know because you took my phone, but that's what I'm assuming." he looked intrigued, with his head tilted to the side and his hands still instead of typing. "If Joe isn't watching her, she only has enough food and water for one day, unless she drinks out of the toilet bowl, but I don't really want her to do that, not that it isn't clean! But she's a big dog and-" "y/n." His cold voice stopped me right in my tracks. Shit. This is probably where he refuses to help me get my dog.

"Please," my eyes began to water at the thought of her at home, all alone, wondering where I went, and then possibly starving to death without anyone to take care of her. "She's my best friend, and I promise she won't be any trouble, I'll pay for everything, I'll even pay a rent fee or something! I just really need my dog back." I think he could see my lip wobble because that look of pity from earlier came back.

"I used to have a dog," his voice surprised me just as much as his words. I looked up at him inquisitively, "She was a Great Dane named Nala. I get it. I'll arrange to pick her up tomorrow, and some of your things later in the week." "Thank you." I whispered before turning to leave his office.

"What's her name?" I heard just before I reached the door. "Hazel," I smiled at the memory of her. "She's an Irish wolf hound." I said sheepishly. at my confession, he smiled. "Goodnight y/n." "Goodnight Bucky."

It's been a week since we got Hazel, and Bucky has seemed kinder and kinder every day. It was probably just because Hazel was such a good dog, but a part of me hoped I helped to make him happier too. When I brought it up to Steve and Sam they had both agreed it wasn't just my dog.

Another night rolled around and I still didn't have anything else of my own. I had been sharing clothes with all three of the men, including underwear. The night was the worst time for me, always leaving me frustrated at my inability to get comfortable enough to sleep. Hazel had no problems, sleeping soundly at the foot of my bed just like she would at home. Or my old house? Was this place really my home?

At 1 a.m, when I hadn't heard any movement in a while I snuck out to Bucky's bedroom where I knew he wouldn't be. He was still in his office working, I knew because I hadn't heard him walk to his room, something he doesn't usually do until at least 3 a.m. Hazel had decided to follow me, making this a bit harder to get away with when being followed by a huge Irish wolfhound.

Slowly, I opened the door to his bedroom. It was gorgeous. He had an abundance of pillows, a soft blanket at the end of his bed and thick creamy coloured duvet. Dark wood furniture decorated the room, complemented by dark curtains and hunter green walls. The place was gorgeous and very well decorated. I moved closer to his bed and found an extra soft blanket under the duvet. I slid it out and draped it over Hazel's back so my hands could hold other stuff. I grabbed a body length grey pillow, deciding he wouldn't miss it for one night.

Before he came to his room, we scurried back to my bed as quietly as possible, Hazel not dropping the blanket once.

"That's the best she's slept in weeks, boss." I could hear voices outside of my bedroom. Steve. The curtains were closed, so it was still nice and dark in my room, then another voice spoke, "Really? She hasn't been sleeping well this whole time?". Bucky. "No, she tosses and turns all night. Honestly, I would too if I didn't have anything of my own.". Sam. "She likes your pillow though." Steve commented.

I didn't want to get up yet but I didn't want to be watched either. I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my head to see the three men in my doorway. Steve and Sam smiled before walking away with waves directed at me. I waved back before focusing my gaze on Bucky.

"I see you like my stuff." he smirked, slowly making his way towards my bed. Hazel jumped off to go find food, her bowls had been placed in the kitchen. "You know, it's wrong to steal sweetheart." Bucky was looking down at me now, his hands in the pockets of his neat dress pants. "You left me with no other choice," I said without much confidence.

"I don't have any of my things, and these sheets are god awful and scratchy." "Maybe I just like seeing you in my clothes," he hummed. A warm blush coated my cheeks as he leaned closer. "You're kinda cute sweetheart." At this point I could smell his minty breath, and feel it as well. "Give me my stuff, and you'll get yours back." I suggested before flopping down on my bed and pulling the covers over me, specifically the blanket I stole right off of his own bed.

He laughed before tugging at the blanket to reveal me clinging to his body sized pillow like a koala. I refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping my eyes closed. "I can't sleep unless I'm comfortable." I stated.

"I get that. We'll have Steve pick your stuff up, but you can keep the pillow." he winked.

That afternoon, Bucky had sat down and had lunch with me. He made eggs, bacon and fluffy toast. I helped a little, making us tea and setting the plates at the black marble island.

"So, I was thinking, you can start working remotely until they absolutely need you back at the hospital." his eyes met mine, waiting for a reaction. I was excited, but I tried not to show it too much since I really shouldn't have been taken from the hospital in the first place. "Then, once I'm sure it's safe, you can go back."

"Safe?" How did my safety play into this decision? I was confused, I was always safe at the hospital, save for the occasional confused patient. "Y/n, your father had a lot of enemies, quite a few of them are associated with other mafias, none as well built or known as my own. He promised you to me in hopes that peace could be made, but he betrayed several of his promises and upset more people than he could handle. Because they can't get to your father, they might get to you next."

"Fine. But I need to get to the hospital sooner rather than later. I have a million patients and I've missed so many rounds. For all I know, Lena could be out of the hospital by now. I haven't had contact with anyone for weeks." I sighed, to which he frowned at. "I know, and I do feel bad but I also care about your safety."

I blushed at his admittance, not used to being romantically cared for. Over the days that turned into weeks, we had grown to like each other. Maybe this arrangement would end up working after all.

"Fuck."

Bucky had given me a space to work within his office, so that's where I was when I heard a string of curses and muffled groans near midnight. The door suddenly swung open, revealing a bloody and battered Bucky.

"James?" I asked. "Hey -shit- y/n/n." He clutched his right arm to his abdomen. There was so much blood from so many different places. "It looks like you need my help," I sassed, getting up to help him settle down on the leather couch. His "yeah" was cut off by a groan. "I need to take your shirt off, okay?" Concern was surely painted on my face as I saw his blood soaked jacket.

"At least buy me dinner first," he laughed. "Ha ha. I'm glad you're in a decent mood," I said while starting to unbutton his white work shirt. I rolled up the sleeves of his black Henley that I was borrowing. He had three major wounds: one on his cheek, one on his right arm and one located on his lower abdomen.

"This is going to hurt," I warned, getting the first aid kit from across the room and preparing the peroxide. He hissed as I poured it over every wound, dabbing them after with gauze. "You're doing great," I tried to smile sympathetically while remaining focused.

"I'm going to stitch your face first, okay?" I asked, getting the supplies ready. "I don't need stitches." he countered. "Bucky, this wound is deep and it's not going to stop bleeding until I close it. You need stitches." "Doll, I'm fine, just leave it."

"Right! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I forgot that you had a medical degree." I said sarcastically. He blushed in return and stayed still while I started to stitch his cheek.

A part of me wanted to make a jab about being out of practice, due to being kidnapped from the hospital, but I held back. Bucky was a good man and we were starting to bond and get along way better than I had ever anticipated. I learned that he had a sister, Steve had been his best friend since highschool, and he had inherited the mafia from his father.

James was a man who loved dogs, and making sure the ones he loved were safe, from his best friend all the way down to Anne, the maid and housekeeper. Another hiss pulled me from my thoughts. "Sorry," I winced. "Almost done."

"Thank you" he said after I patched each site with gauze and polysporin. "Anytime." "I guess we make more sense than I thought." he said as we sipped coffee in the kitchen. "How so?" I laughed. "A surgeon and a mafia boss. I could use you doll." He smiled. I tilted my head to the side in mock offense. " 's that all I am to you? A good pair of hands to tend to your messes, Mr. Barnes?" I asked. "No no no! I just mean that we make sense, you know?" I smiled at him over my mug. "I know."

He started leaning closer to me, to the point where I could feel his breath on my lips. Bucky's eyes met mine over the small table, his flesh hand coming up to cup my cheek, the other resting its cooler touch on my neck, pulling me in. I never fought once, instantly kissing him back when I felt his lips meet mine.

I sighed into the kiss, letting him hold my face and tip it back. His tongue caressed my lower lip before bringing it into his mouth, sucking on it tenderly. My hand moved to cover his flesh one, leaning into his touch slightly. He inhaled me as he pulled back. I felt my face flush and go warm and his hungry gaze, as if I was his prey and he wanted to devour me whole. "Bucky," I panted.

He smirked devilishly. "You like that, doll?" I nodded dumbly at his question. Bucky's eyes creased at the corners when he smiled, tilting his head down to look at me. "I like you," I whispered. He leaned closer, "I like you too, printessa."

Over the weeks, I had started sharing Bucky's room with him. I had an abundance of plush blankets and soft pillows to cuddle with. He had started coming to bed earlier, and I have started back at the hospital. Joe and my other friends missed me while I was away, and I can guarantee that I missed them just as much, if not more. My Resident Chief and Chief of Surgery both cried when they saw me walk back into the hospital lobby, happy and unharmed.

Life was good again, and I finally felt peace.

[youlightmeupriorson]

Third Date Etiquette | Bucky Barnes

a/n: Bucky is def my comfort character and writing for him when I haven't in so long is AHHHH. please enjoy 💗

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

The ingredients lay before you on the table. Potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, and most importantly–chicken. Your nerves were wracked as you studied the contents of the recipe over and over, practically committing it to memory. It was your third date with the extremely captivating and handsome man, Bucky Barnes. You two quite literally ran into one another at the local Starbucks–you with a very sweet and frothy latte, Bucky with a bitter iced black coffee. 

“Hi,” Bucky had said to you, piercing blue eyes like windows to the soul. You immediately took comfort. Weird, but you felt safe and you hadn’t been in his presence all but for 30 seconds. 

“Hi,” you answer with a sheepish smile, admiring your hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

He smiled in the friendliest of ways. It wasn’t every day you slammed into the hard chest of a man who looked as though he just stepped off of the latest Men’s GQ issue. His scent was homey, earthy. Woodsy and aromatic, he smelled like citrus and sex. The good kind of sex, too. Mouth-watering sex, the kind that will have your toes curling and aching at a memory recalled throughout your normal day. 

Introductions were quickly exchanged and you were shocked when the stranger who you found to be Bucky asked for your number. By the end of the day, he asked you to dinner, and now just a few weeks later this was lucky date number three. And you offered to cook for him. Your grandmother said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So with that information tucked away nicely in your brain, you asked if he had any food allergies, and mentioned chicken, and Bucky was immediately on board. He offered to bring the wine. 

As you began to prepare your chicken and cut up your veggies, you heard the knock on your apartment door. A soft smile spans across your face as you wash up your hands and race for the door, eager like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Inhaling slowly to try and dampen the quick thud of your heart, you check your reflection in the mirror and ensure you look presentable. Opening the door, Bucky stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug thick thighs wonderfully, a navy blue v-neck tee, and his jacket. In his hand is a bouquet of roses and the bottle of wine he promised to bring.

“Hey, Doll,” he smiles. It didn’t take him long to give you a sweet little pet name, and ‘doll’ was so fitting, as if he came straight out of the 1950s. 

“Hello, handsome.” you say breathlessly, ushering him to come inside. He steps over the threshold and pops a gentle kiss onto your cheeks, his warm lips and slight scruff a perfect mixture that sends your heart into overdrive and an ocean down below. 

You take the flowers and wine from him, laughing over your shoulder as he comments on your sweet little apartment. “It’s very cozy in here.” he laughs, admiring the bookshelf in the corner filled to the brim with all of your favorite reads. From historical romance to paranormal, all the way to romantasy and the occasional dark romance, you had something for every mood. 

“Thank you!” you beam. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Bucky felt his heart soften at that. It’s not much but it’s home. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to feel at home. To be quite honest, he hadn’t felt the essence of home since Steve, and he wasn’t so certain that he’d ever get to experience it again. But then there you were… bumping into him in that coffee shop. With your bright smile, ease of conversation, and breathtaking beauty. He was smitten and starstruck by you. 

“The flowers are gorgeous, Bucky. Thank you so much.” You exhale as you place the vase of water and flowers as a centerpiece on your kitchen table. Bucky looked around, noticing the prepped chicken sitting in a stainless steel roasting pan. Veggies were lined around it like a little bed for the chicken to rest on. He smiled to himself, eager to have a woman offer to cook for him on a date. It wasn’t something he was used to and he wouldn’t take for granted the sweet gesture. 

“I’m glad you like them.” He answers. You look at his jacket and laugh.

“Go on, make yourself comfy. Take your coat off. You can lay it over one of the chairs.” 

Bucky wets his lips as he shimmies out of his leather and lays it over the back of the wooden chair as you instructed. He admired the full view of you for the first time tonight. You wore a dress that dropped just to your knees and a pair of blush pink flats. You wanted something semi-formal but comfortable. The dress hugged your curves and Bucky’s mouth watered at the image of his hands tracing every single one, committing them to memory. He opened and closed the fist of his metal limb, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted desperately to know how you tasted and not just what lay beneath that dress and panties he coould only imagine looked like–but your mouth. Your mouth looked so sweet and delectable, lips that were made to fit perfectly against his.

“Do you need help with anything?” Bucky asked, gazing around at the nicely-kept kitchen. You had cleaned up as you went along cooking this evening. 

“Yeah… You can make yourself useful.” You smirk with a playful tone to your voice. “You can open that bottle of wine while I grab us two glasses… You grabbed my favorite.” 

Bucky laughed. “I remembered you ordering it on our first date.” 

You stalled in front of the cabinets, the memory of that first day clouding your mind. How much of a gentleman he was despite everyone saying that chivaraly was dead. He pulled out your chair, let you wear his jacket on the way out because it was practically freezing, and he walked you to your doorstep where he kissed you goodnight. Not on the lips, but on the cheek, because he wanted to set the standard with you–that you were worth more than jumping headfirst. He wanted to feel you out, take his time. After all, you would be the first woman he’d grown to fancy in a very long time… and after Sam’s whistling over the picture Bucky showed him of you once he confiscated your socials, Sam was hollering for Bucky to quickly lock it down. 

“You paid attention.” you giggle, realizing that the wine glasses were sitting on the very top shelf. Grumbling, you were about to grab the stepstool before a warm hand ghosted across yours and a hard chest was felt against your back. Bucky effortlessly grabbed two glasses and locked eyes with you, his eyes not helping but to drop to your lips. 

If you weren’t trying to impress him with your cooking skills, you would’ve forgotten dinner all together and jumped straight to dessert. 

Bucky smiled at you as he unloaded the two glasses into your grasp before he went to work on popping the cork. You were enveloped with that homey scent once more, that citrus sending a shock appeal through your loins, your eyes fluttering closed. If you weren’t paying attention to maintaining your balance, you might just pooled to the floor then and there. 

As he popped the cork and you put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on your phone, he offered you a glass. 

“Cheers,” You smiles, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip. The feel of the wine on your tongue was smooth and silky, causing you to ponder if Bucky’s tongue felt the same. You lick your lips as you sat the glass down and admire him. 

“What?” Bucky asks.

Smirking, you shake your head. “I’m just surprised is all.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the statement. “Surprised?”

You nod your head. “How I happened to score running directly into the arms of someone this good looking.” 

Your comment on his appearance sent a flush down the back of his neck. Bucky Barnes was not the kind of man that blushed, but he suddenly felt an odd sense of heat rise on the apples of his cheeks. He tucked his tongue into the pocket of his cheek and chuckled, cursing under his breath at how a woman, for the first time in his life, had the upper hand on him. 

“You’re all for flattery tonight.” Bucky chuckles. 

“It’s the truth.” You don’t back away. That was another thing that pulled Bucky into your orbit. He loved that you said anything that came to mind. It didn’t matter how outlandish or awkward it could sound, he loved it. You spoke your mind. You were the epitome of fearless and he knew he could use some more of that in his life. 

The longer you two stood there and the silence grew, it was one of comfort. You both drank from your glasses and Bucky knew that if he didn’t take his chance now, he wouldn’t ever do it. He stepped closer and circled a hand around your waist, dropping low on your hip. The feel of his large hand through the fabric of your dress sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as you peered up at him. 

“Jumping to dessert first?” You dare to ask.

“Doll, dessert has been on my mind since I woke up this morning.” Bucky drawled, his voice rich and deep. His warm breath fanned over your bottom lip as he searched your eyes, waiting for the invitation, eager for your confirmation that you too wanted some dessert before dinner. 

Grinning wildly, the tip of your head and the subtle pushing into his hard frame was all he needed. Bucky caught your thin between his fingertips and dipped low, his lips slotting against yours. 

Perfect fit. 

His lips molded to yours. They were soft and pleasant and warm and everything you could’ve dreamed of. He kissed you with such softness that it stole the breath from your lungs. You unhooked your fingers from around the stem of your wineglass and raised them, laying them over his shoulders. You took the leap of courage and deepened the kiss, being the first to run your tongue across his bottom lip, asking for permission to infiltrate.

Bucky opened his mouth a little wider and your tongues touched which sent both of you into a frenzy. A low grunt of approval climbed up Bucky’s throat followed by a breathy moan leaving yours. He turned you both so that the curve of your back was pressed into the island. He pushed forward, your body folding slightly across the granite as he kissed you deeper, kissed you as if you were the oxygen that was snatched from his lungs, kissed you like there would be no tomorrow. 

“Bucky,” You gasp his name as you pull away for a breath of fresh air. But you were so desperate to kiss him again. You never wanted to stop. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a deep sense of want and you had a strong feeling this date might just go to third base. 

He smirked down at you, the playfulness of his eyes putting you on high alert. His thumb grinded into your hip and in a flash, he had you lifted and your bottom on the counter. Wedging his body between your knees, a shrill of laughter escaped you as you drape your arms over his shoulders. Bucky comes back in, diving head first for more, this time with a lot more passion.

He didn’t hold back. Bucky’s hands gripped your sides and danced up until he was grabbing your face, the gasp flooding your lips at the mix of cold of his metal hand and warmth of his flesh one. You groan louder against his mouth as you tangle your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. 

“How much longer on that timer?” Bucky asked between deepening kisses. 

You glance down at your phone. “30 minutes.” You giggle. 

Talk about some third date etiquette. You wanted this more than anything.

“30 is all I need, Doll.” Bucky laughs, lifting you off the counter and leading you to the couch where he climbs on top of you, his hard body pressing against yours.