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jupipedia · 2 years ago

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neither here nor there ! — h. brown. ↳ " face down, ass up, that's the way i like getting fucked ! " ↳ content warning : nsfw ( minors do not interact. ), unprotected s*x, marking, pet names ( lovie, sweetheart, etc. ), overst*mulation, multiple org*sms, forced org*sms ( ? ), cre*mpie, slight or*l ( fem. receiving. ), c*m eating, not proof read lol, etc. ↳ dedicated to: @starsoir !

you'd love to pretend that you don't know how you got where you were, but you knew exactly how you ended up in this position; face down with your ass in the air as hobie brown fucked you mindlessly.

you were dressed in one of the most revealing dresses ever made and had one goal in mind : fuck hobie brown.

you were more than the average groupie, having actually listened and enjoyed his band before you even thought of fucking him. your desire was sparked when you attended one of his gigs on a whim, wanting to listen to good music as you got a drink at your local bar. at one point, you made your way to the front of the crowd, careful not to spill your drink on anyone as you slipped through the dense ocean of bodies. once you reached the front, hobie brown stood in all his anarchist glory, shredding away on his electric guitar and quickly sparking your interest.

since then, you've made it a mission to be the hottest girl to ever touch the same sheets as the man. you kept up to date on his pop up shows, his appearances, and the new music his band would release every now and then.

tonight, you finally captured his attention when you stood at the front of the crowd, all dolled up and singing the lyrics to his songs. your dress left little to the imagination and piqued his interest once the two of you made eye contact as you continued to lip sync along to the word, smiling sultrily as you gazed up at him.

his set was barely finished as he removed his guitar from torso, jumped into the crowd, and made his way to the door with your wrist latched in his hold, loose enough for you to pull away if you weren't interested. he could barely keep his hands off of you as he pulled you into the back of the car, his driver raising the partition once his hands began to lower to the swell of your ass. his fingers wandered close to your heat, only to stop at your panty line, affectively teasing you as the two of engaged in a fighting kiss. his kiss was hard, having no care for the lack of air in his lung as he continued to pull you closer to him. your tongue pushed against his, marveling at the cold metal ball in the center of his appendage.

the car was not parked when hobie pulled you out of it, fixing your tousled hair before pulling you through the lobby of the hotel and into the elevator. the doors hadn't closed and his lips were already back on you, hot kisses being pressed into the crook of your neck.

his eagerness took you aback, surprised that such a simple act of knowing his lyrics was enough to rile him up so much. you knew the skimpy outfit had to play a grander part in things as he tugged on it slightly, almost as if he was holding himself back from ripping off of you right in the elevator.

"leng ting you are," he mumbled against your skin, kitten licking over the small bruises he created from him nipping at your skin.

"i try," your words are barely heard as you suddenly become breathless. this is the first time you'd really spoken, other than him ensuring that you wanted to spend the night with him. you'd been to preoccupied with each other's lips that you hadn't much time to ask any questions, let alone exchange compliments.

"you do a lot more than try, lovie. didn't know i had fans as beautiful as you. or as devout. 's cute watching my lyrics fall from your pretty lips," he replied, returning to task of marking every inch of your skin, hands grasping your ass in a bruising hold as he pulled you closer to him.

"what can i say, they're good lyrics," you mutter, words coming out breathless as he sucked on the spot just below your ear.

the elevator doors opened and he wasted no time pulling you in the direction of his room, wanting nothing but to have his way with you. he reached his room, opening the door and pulling you in. you'd barely finished removing your heels when he propped you up against the door, fingers making quick work of your dress and thong.

which led you to your current position, face pushed deep into the blankets as your ass was propped up in the air as hobie fucked your into cunt. his strokes were deep and forceful as you jerked forward each time he entered you. his veined cock scraped the walls of your tight pussy, evoking whines and moans from you and, surprisingly, hobie.

you imagined that he'd be a grunter or groaner but you were even happier to find out that he was a whiner. they weren't high pitched by any means but the whiny lilt in his remark heightened your already overspilling arousal. in your previous position, his mouth had been next to your ear, allowing you to hear the praise loud and clear. while this current position put a bit of distance between the two of you, you were still able to make out his whines when they weren't drowned out by your own noises.

"f-feel so good around my cock. so fucking good," he grunts out, angling his body differently, causing the head of his cock to bump against your cervix. you blindly reached back and pushed futilely at his pelvis, running from his deep strokes. "don't tell me it's too much for you, sweetheart."

"so deep! too deep," you mewled, still pushing him away without result. the pleasure was beyond overwhelming. your mind clouded as you continued to take the pleasure, too lost in it to speak or breathe properly. his cologne and natural musk lingered through the air, suffocating you in his presence.

your legs soon begin to mimic the twitch of your cunt as your orgasm began to build. your eyes welled with tears at the euphoric pressure filling your stomach.

"go on and cum for me, yeah?" hobie draped himself over your frame, whispering softly in your ear. the return of his aroused whines so close to your ear did nothing but push you closer to the edge, leaving you teetering on the edge of a release.

hobie's hand slid down your abdomen, using his fore and middle finger to draw circles on your clit and effectively bringing you to an earth shattering release. you cry out his name, tone doused in pleasure as you threw your head back to rest upon his shoulder. he continued to pump into you, prolonging your high. almost as if your orgasm was a catalyst, hobie's hips jerked and he stilled, pouring his cum into you warm pussy.

as your orgasm subsided, hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up to rest against his chest before restarting his ministrations. you were overstimulated as you tried to escape his grasp, hoping for a quick break before continuing.

"you thought we were finished? nah, i could go all night with you," he said, holding you firm against his torso as he buried himself snug into your core. you dug your nails into his forearm, attempting to ground yourself as you melted due to the immense pleasure.

this position only allowed hobie to move minimally, but he sat snug against your cervix, each thrust pushing against it in a pleasurable way. he drew shallow gasps from you as you tried to steady your breathing. one of his hands groped at your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers causing you to tighten around him. he chuckled into your neck as he fucked his seed back into you, relishing in the hot feeling of your vice.

"gonna give me another one, yeah. hmm, pretty girl?" he teased, pinching your nipple and quicken the pace of his finger on your clit. he smirked at the release of your pitchy moans before going back to kiss on your neck.

"'m gonna cum. please! gonna cum!" you wailed, withering in his hold as you began to release. you felt his nod and your entire body shook from the intensity of your orgasm. hobie whispered sweet nothings in your ear before he allowed himself to drown in his own pleasure.

"fuck, you feel so good. hmm. fuck, had my eyes on you since you stepped to the front of the crowd. leng ting singing all m'lyrics. nearly came in my jeans," he admitted in between whines. his grip tightened on you as his moans reached a crescendo and his seed spilled into you.

his hold on you loosened but didn't drop completely as he came down from his high. his breath tickled your ear as he tried to calm himself, savoring the warmth of your walls. he released you and you fell onto your chest, ass still propped in the air as he shifted to the foot of the bed.

"hobie, please," you begged, wanting nothing but rest as he inserted his head between your thighs and lapped at your core, determined to eat your mixed essence from your used cunt.

"jus' cleaning you, pretty," he mumbled, mouth full and tongue busy. your hands made their way to his wicks as his tongue dove into your pussy. the wet muscle scooped his cum out of your entrance, rubbing perfectly against your walls. you felt a foreign pressure rise and you tugged lightly at the man's head, wanting to remove him from your core before you came.

"hobie, s'too much," you whined with no avail as he sucked on your clit, changing his mission from eating your cum to making you release once again.

this release was a bit different as short streams of liquid shot from your pussy and into his welcoming mouth. he hummed as he slurped into your cunt, ignoring your attempts at pushing his head away until he decided he was finished.

he left his position and crawled up toward the pillows, pulling you into his chest as he laid back.

"we can talk in morning, yeah? wanna get to know you a bit," he muttered, exhaustion prevalent in his tone as his spoke with eyes closed. you couldn't reply as you slipped into a sleeping state.

mission accomplished.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )#hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #atsv smut #atsv x reader #astv x black reader #hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #black writblr #x black reader #hobie smut

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thedevilsoftruth · 2 months ago

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♡~" Don't I know you? "~♡

Civil war! Bucky Barnes x f! Reader

Summary: Bucky is still slowly regaining his memories. When he sees you walking into a bar, he swears he's seen your face before, and his awful curiosity for you " accidentally " drags you into his apartment.

Tags/warnings: Smut!!! Literally 4k words for pure and utter smut. A VERY bad idea, one night stand, Dom!Bucky, lots of kissing, Bucky really likes your boob's, cunnilingus, spit/pussy spitting/slapping, choking, Bucky is implied to be a masochist, vaginal fingering, praising, thigh riding ( kinda ) multiple orgasms, piv sex, unprotected, temperature play if you squint, Buckies arms mentioned heavily. Not beta read!

So Bucky won my poll last week, and it took me so long to push this out because I had to rewrite it 4 times. But anyways, big thanks to @evillious-trash for helping me break out of my writers block. I definitely feel like the ending was rushed ( I was working on this specific fic from 7pm to 2am--non stop with no breaks. ) but nonetheless, please enjoy this VERY smutty fic.

Song recommended: Walking In My Shoes by Depeche Mode

Minors DNI! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

[ P.S: My marvel request box is back open. Please check my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules. ]

Oh boy, was it a terrible mistake; Bucky deciding to greet you in the bar that night. All he could think about was how guilty he was going to feel about it in the morning. In fact, he was already feeling guilt even in the moment.

As his large hands splayed on your thighs on his kitchen table in his apartment--and as you both engaged in heavy kissing, the question of what In the hell was he doing kept repeating in his head.

He didn't know why he was doing it but he knew it felt right. Even if it wasn't, it was what he wanted; and Bucky Barnes wasn't used to getting what he wanted.

His tongue escaped into your mouth, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. The cold metal of his prosthetic hand sent chills down your body each time It would touch you. Your fingers were curled into the fabric of his long sleeved henley shirt, tugging at them for support.

When he approached you in the bar, he seemed so shy and awkward. The way he would scratch his neck sheepishly, the way he'd keep looking at his hands, the way he spoke so quietly. All of it pointed to him being a shy, innocent introvert.

But this man was everything but shy and innocent.

He kissed you dominantly like he was afraid of losing control of you, he dirty talked you like you were some cheap whore on the streets, and yet--there was something oddly sweet about him in a very bizarre way.

His hand was scarred and had too many callouses to count with the skin on it being cracked and dry; compared to the strange prosthetic hand he has which was smooth and scarless. He never told you his entire left arm was a prosthetic; just his hand. In fact, he didn't say much about himself and even told you at one point that he didn't want to talk about himself or his background. And when you asked him for his name, he just stared at you for several minutes before saying " Bucky " so quietly that you wouldn't be able to pick up on it if it weren't for being able to read his lips.

He told you that you had to leave his apartment once he was done with you, and when you asked why, he responded with " I have business to take care of in the morning. " It was quite strange, especially because he was unemployed.

You were trying so hard to figure out who he really was. You knew you had seen him somewhere, but you couldn't figure out what it was. He was internally doing the same thing with you. Even though it had been almost a year since he left hydra, most of his memories were still gone and the codewords to set him off could still easily trigger him. But when he approached you in that bar, he knew he'd seen you somewhere.

You still remembered the first thing he said to you as he chased after you. It was, " do I know you? "

Not a " hi " " hello", or, " can I buy you a drink? " Just the four words; do I know you?

Bucky pulled back from your lips, panting. He smacked your thigh and cleared his throat.

" Get off the table and turn around. " He commanded breathlessly, stepping back and eyeing you up and down. You hesitated. It was so weird seeing him like that. Once again, this was a man who was afraid of looking you in the eye and averted his gaze each time you'd try to provoke him by opening the top of your dress to reveal more of your cleavage. But even with how weird he acted, you still complied to the order and shakingly got off the table.

The second you were on your feet, he spun you around and pulled you tight against his body. He was incredibly strong, and his grasp on your body was so tight that you felt like you couldn't breathe.

He moved your hair over your shoulder and trailed hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw all the way down to the crook of your neck. He sucked down at your pulse point, making you whimper. He kept his real arm around your stomach, and his metal hand came up to your neck, tilting your head back against his shoulder. You were starting to become lightheaded.

" Bucky, " you breathed weakly, grabbing his wrist splayed across your stomach. " Can't breathe. " You told him weakly, patting his forearm twice. He slowly eased his grasp on you but kept it tight enough to where you couldn't escape his hold on you. It was like he was a control freak.

His tongue lapped across your neck where he'd been kissing before he parted his lips and gently bit down on your skin, making you squeal.

He let go of your neck, and moved his metal hand down to your cleavage. His lips transported to your earlobe, and he bit and kissed at it as he started playing with your boobs. His hand engulfed one of your tits, taking it in his dominant hold and groping it hard. You moaned softly at his touch and whimpered when he let go to run both hands up your thighs.

His lips found yours from behind your shoulder, and his lips slowly began moving against yours as his hands squeezed your thighs. His arms snaked around your stomach again, and his hips rolled against your backside, making you groan loudly as he did so.

Bucky pulled back from your body and pulled the zipper of your dress all the way down until your back was exposed. He spun you around to face him once more, and then stepped back.

" Take your clothes off. " He told you, crossing his arms across his chest. You stepped out of your dress, leaving you only in your undergarments and your heels. You sat in the table, staring at him as your fingers worked on the hooks of your bra.

He stared back at you with hungry eyes as you rolled your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. Bucky was very unpredictable to you. You didn't know if he was going to choke you and spit in your mouth in one instance or kiss you gently and whisper sweet nothings in your ear the other.

You looked at him with a certain gaze that made him hard and absolutely aching for you. There was something so sexy about the way you were sitting on his table, looking so vulnerable but so inviting.

It was like a fucking wet dream, like one of the sick ass fantasies he'd get every once and a while. As he stepped between your legs and stared you up and down, he got a certain nostalgic feeling as he started to remember the many people he used to sleep around with. And you reminded him of one of those people. That was why he was so drawn to you. You were exactly the type he'd run after when he was still in the military. And all he needed with the headspace he was in in the moment was a little reminder of who he used to be.

" Are you going to take me to your bed? " You asked him, running your hand down his chest. He grimaced, looking down at your hand. He scoffed, like the joke was dumb and funny to him.

" I don't use a bed. " He responded. " I don't need one. We can just use the floor or the table. " He finished, running a hand through his thick hair.

It was then and there when you realized that he was by far your strangest hookup. Was he just really drunk and acting weird or was he actually like this?

" Are you sure--"

" Stop talking. " He cut you off, picking you up and off the table without breaking a sweat, carrying you to his couch where he than sat down with you in his lap. He positioned you on one of his thighs and leaned back against the seat, running his hands up and down your sides.

You felt so embarrassed for whatever reason. You were completely exposed to him and he was taking his sweet ass time with you.

Then, he slowly started bouncing you up and down on his thigh, leaning in to attack your neck with harsh kisses like he was doing before.

You moaned softly at the friction between the rough fabric of his leans and your aching core. His hand idly rubbed up and down your back,the other gripping your hip and keeping you in place on his thigh.

Bucky lips parted and he bit at your pulse point before sucking a small little hickey on your skin. You gasped at the contact, and he started bouncing you on his leg faster.

You threw your head back and whined desperately, tugging at his thick biceps through his long sleeved shirt.

" What's the matter, doll? " He asked in a mock-tone voice, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. " You want my cock, hm? "

He trailed his metal hand down between your thighs and ran his two middle fingers down your soaked slit, electing a loud moan out of you. You curled your fingers into his shirt tighter, rocking your hips against his hand, seeking more friction.

" Stop that. " Bucky growled, grabbing your hip with his other hand to keep you in place. " Or you wont have me at all. " He warned, looking at you sternly.

His fingers started slowly playing with your aching clit, making you whimper and shake in his arms. The coldness of the metal on his fingers made you wince each time they'd touch you. And that was something that got Bucky off; seeing how you reacted to different temperatures.

He circled your entrance with his middle finger. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pursed with concentration as he focused on you completely.

He continued to tease you by pretending to stick his finger in only to pull it out and circle around your entrance instead.

" Bucky- " you whined, but he cut you off.

" Lay down. " He told you, patting your thigh, signaling you to get off his lap. Eagerly, you complied, laying down on your back on the couch.

" Spread your legs. " He told you, and you once again, obeyed, opening your legs in front of him. He undid his belt buckle, not taking the belt fully off but just undoing the buckle. All for him to just dip his head between your thighs-- not that you were complaining, but it was just not what you were expecting.

He lifted your legs and threw them over his broad shoulders. He leaned into your sweet cunt and slowly licked a long line from your entrance to your clit. His warm breath and tongue only added to the sensations and made you feel fuzzy. His beard tickled your skin as he began moving against you and he laid his tongue flat against your pussy, shaking his head slowly and making you moan loudly.

You pushed his long curtain bangs back with your hand and curled a fist into his thick brown hair, making him groan in approval as he ate you out. His large hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding them in place and keeping them open for his hungry mouth.

Bucky trailed open-mouthed kisses down your pussy before stopping at your clit. He flicked his tongue up and down your aching bud, making you moan loudly and your fingers curl into his scalp harder. Most men you slept with hated it when you pulled on their hair because it hurt, but Bucky seemed completely unfazed by it; In fact, it seemed like the pain is what spurred him on--if he felt any pain from it all. And mostly, it didn't. Bucky grew very tolerant to pain after all of the experiments and torture hydra put him through.

He flicked his eyes to look up at yours from his spot between your thighs, and your eyes locked for a brief moment before we went back to focusing on your cunt. He pulled back from your pussy and then, without warning, spat directly onto it. He looked up at you and slapped your pussy a few times, making you squeal.

Bucky wiped his hand on his jeans before leaning back in between your thighs. He dragged the tip of his tongue across your folds, spreading his saliva across your cunt. You whined loudly as his lips closed around your clit, sucking at it harshly before he circled his tongue around it.

" So fucking sweet. " He moaned. " You like that shit? " He laughed, looking directly at you and making you feel utterly embarrassed. He laid his tongue flat on your cunt again, shook his head, and then bobbed his head up and down as he sucked on your clit. A mantra of breathless moans escaped your lips as he did so, your thighs shaking violently in his arms.

It felt so good that you wanted to cry. Even Bucky was shocked at how well he was doing, but he figured that most of it came from his past experience and muscle memory. You closed your legs around his face, tugging on his scalp. He let out an annoyed groan and spread your legs back apart.

He pulled back from your pussy and ran the knuckles of his two middle fingers down your slit. He then, finally, dipped his fingers into your warm entrance and slowly started pumping them in and out of you.

He rose from your thighs, sitting on his knees as he continued to finger you gently, giving his jaw a short little break.

" You're so gorgeous. " He told you, tilting his head with a cocky smile as he ran his metal arm down your stomach, giving you goosebumps.

Bucky curled his fingers Inside you, slowly and repeatedly pumping them in and out of you and drawing out long, sweet whines out of your lips. He then dipped his head back between your shaking thighs and his tongue began working with his fingers to completely satisfy you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

" You gonna cum soon, pretty girl? Hmm? " He cooed, giving your cunt little kitten licks as he looked up at you. You could just hear the smile on his face as he spoke.

You whimpered in response, your hips bucking toward his face and your back arching off the couch. Your fingers found their way back into his long hair, spurring him on with a harsh tug.

He shoved his long, thick middle fingers as far as they could inside of you, and he curled them once more--directly in your sweet spot, electing a loud moan out of you. Your thighs began to uncontrollably shake around his head, your hips stuttering against his face as he ate you out.

" It's okay, honey. " He purred, rubbing your thighs softly. " You can cum, sweetie. Come on. Right onto my face, gorgeous. " Bucky encouraged against your pussy, his words sickeningly sweet; a complete and utter contrast to his earlier behavior.

The pace of his fingers slowly started to speed up as he became more determined to make you orgasm. He placed open-mouthed kisses onto your soaked folds and he started sucking down on your clit again, the lewd, wet, almost slurping noises that he was making rang through the both of your ears and made him especially ten times harder.

And you just couldn't help it. Your sex began contracting against Buckies thick fingers, tightening around him, trapping him there inside you until you finally came.

Bucky withdrew his fingers from you and he groaned in approval as you came down on him hard. He wiped his hand on his jeans again, eagerly lapping up every last drop of cum coming from you. He closed his eyes tight and moaned as your sweet nectar hit his tongue. He was probably enjoying it more than you. Your entire body was shaking, satisfaction and relief spreading through your body as he helped you come down from your high.

" Fuck, " he moaned, holding your thighs open as his tongue lapped up the rest of your cum.

When he was done, he rose from your legs, panting. His lips, nose, and chin were glistening with your essence, his beard almost completely soaked with it. He chuckled and wiped his face off with his shirt. You laid there, panting, at a complete loss of words.

" You did so good, doll. " Bucky praised, crawling over your body and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He pecked at your lips multiple times before he slowly started giving you sweet open-mouthed kisses. You could taste yourself on his lips, and that was his goal. He began trailing kisses down your body, starting at the column of your throat, heading towards your collarbone, and stopping at your breasts.

Bucky took one of your breasts into his left hand--the metal one--and he played with it while his mouth paid attention to your other breast. His thumb and index finger tweaked at your nipple. Meanwhile his tongue was circling around your areola before his lips closed around your nipple and began sucking on that gently. The contact made you gasp, your cunt aching for him even more.

He then switched his attention to your other breast, his lips kissing and sucking at your nipple, his hand playing with your other breast. When he was done, he lifted his head and sat down on his knees between your thighs. He was looking down at you with a wicked smile, his blue eyes dark with lust.

" You know, " he started, his hand reaching for his unbuckled belt. His voice was so smooth; sweet like the finest honey there ever was, clear like a bright sunny afternoon. " You've been so good for me, don't you think? " He smiled, tilting his head to the side as he threw his belt down onto the floor. He picked up your leg by the base of your thigh and gently placed a few kisses on it, his eyes never looking away from yours.

" Maybe I should reward you, yeah? " He proposed in a suggestive tone, unzipping his jeans. You gulped hard, looking at his hands and then back at his face. He pulled his pants down slightly and reached within them to pull his cock out; ready for you and dripping with precum.

" Come sit in my lap. " He told you, sitting on his knees and patting his thighs. You weakly sat up, your body still shaking after your intense orgasm. You went to climb in his lap, but he stopped you.

" Other way, sweetie. " He said, turning your body the other way so that your back was facing his chest. He placed his hands on your hips, lowering your body onto his lap. It took him a moment, but he wrapped his hand around his shaft and directed his cock to your entrance.

Bucky then slowly seethed himself inside you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before he began rocking his hips.

You felt his hand on your back, and he gently pushed your body down and into the couch, keeping his hand there so that you wouldn't move. You whimpered at the contact, your mind wandering to all the things he could do to you in that instance. Just thinking about those things made you even wetter for him.

Bucky slowly dragged his cock across your velvety, warm walls before pulling out just a little bit below his tip, and then shoving himself back in; setting a medium-fast pace for himself. The poor couch squeaked underneath your joined bodies, and you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, but Bucky pushed you back down.

" Bucky! " You yelped his name as he began to move faster. He bent over your body and kissed your shoulder sweetly, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

" Yeah, doll? " He whispered in your ear, nipping at your earlobe and sending shivers down your spine and an electric sensation through your pussy.

" Go a bit slower? " You panted, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes and an open mouth. He chuckled at the request, and chuckled and the look on your face. He ran his hand down your cheek.

" But we've barley started. " He fake whined, sitting back on his knees. He kept his metal arm on your back, holding you down as he proceed to fuck you into oblivion. You gripped the cushion of the couch with all your might, your faced smushed against the cushion and your hair splayed messily all over your face.

The sight was our heaven for Bucky. Him sitting on his knees with you in his lap, his cock buried deeply inside your wam little cunt, your back faced to him. He pulled out again and slammed back in, this time with more force, and this time setting off with a much harsher and faster that sent his cock deep within you.

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, your mouth leaving out a chant of endless moans that only made his cock harder. He reached his other hand around you to slowly circle around your clit, making your body jump and you gasp.

" Oh. " Bucky laughed. " Did that feel good, sweetie? " He purred directly into your ear, rolling his middle finger around your sensitive little bud. You nodded your head, your brain becoming foggy as drool started to leave your mouth. Bucky removed the hand on your back and instead began to use it on your mouth. He dragged his metal thumb across your bottom lip, playing with your saliva and running it over your puffy wet lips.

He sat back up and redoubled his efforts on his thrusts. He began rolling his hips to give you slow, deep and hard thrusts, thrusts that literally made you see stars.

And then, he started hitting your sweet spot once more--and he could tell he was doing so by the loud mewls you were letting out for his ears to drink it. The loudness of your moans only egged him on more, an she wrapped his hands around your hips hard and started pushing you off and on his cock with his harsh thrusts.

You bit your lip and whined desperately, your nails digging into the couch and your toes curling in immense pleasure.

" Holy fuck.. " you panted. " Bucky ahh... Gonna cum again. " You told him, nearly choking on your own moans. Although you thought you were going to be cumming soon, Bucky had different plans for you. Plans he'd think you wouldn't enjoy that much.

He smirked widely and smacked your ass hard, the skin on skin contact echoing through the empty halls of his apartment along with the yelp you let out when he did so.

He felt your muscles contract around his cock again and, just before you could release, he pulled out of you, panting. You were left feeling empty and unsatisfied.

" What the hell?! " You snapped, looking at him from over your shoulder. " I was almost there. " You whined. He fake pouted.

" Well that's too bad, isn't it? " He purred, flipping you onto your back. You were getting so tired and frustrated at that point, that all you wanted to do was have one last orgasm and be done with it and go home.

How he was able to keep up so long without running out of steam was a wonder to you. You only came once, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

Bucky grabbed your legs and pinned them to your chest, practically folding you in half. Your cheeks turned bright red as he slowly pushed back inside you; embarrassed by the new position though it was very sexy.

He now had a front view of you, a view he thought was even better than the last. Because in the position, he could see your face and the way you reacted to every little thing he did. He could see the way your tits would bounce with each thrust he gave you, and he could even see your pretty little pussy better.

Your face contorted into one of pure pleasure, your eyebrows quirked and your puffy lips quivering. To Bucky, it was the hottest fucking thing ever. With this position he was able to sink his cock even deeper within you, so deep until his entire thing was stuffed inside you.

He was starting to feel a build up in his abdomen, and he was wondering if you were feeling the same.

For a brief moment, he pulled out, all to spit on your cunt one last time, spreading his saliva out around your over-sensitive folds with his fingers. He grabbed hold of the base of your thighs as he slowly sunk himself back into you, looking you in your eyes deeply. He started to get that familiar feeling again, as he sped back up and listened to your sweet moans echo off the walls. The familiar feeling that he had seen you somewhere before.

And you were absolutely oblivious to it. The only thing that was on your mind was how hot he was and how good the sex felt.

You reached out for his thick bicep through his shirt, your fingernails digging into his skin.

" Feeling good? " He asked you, giving your calf a kiss while looking you in your eyes. You nodded, panting, trying to remain eye contact.

" I'm getting so close, Bucky.. " You moaned, your back arching off the couch.

" Me too. " He responded, bending down and bracing his arms beside your face, caging you away from the outside world.

His cock kissed and touched every single inch of your cunt that was hyper-sensitive, and he kept thrusting into you at a steady, fast pace until a milky white ring of your cum started to appear around his cock.

He slowed down, looking down at the liquid spilling out of you. He bit his lip, looking back at you.

" Oh honey, " he breathed, " look at that. "

---

By the time the both of you were finished, it was almost 4 in the morning. You were putting your clothes back on, and Bucky was already starting to feel that awful sense of guilt wash over him.

" I don't know how appropriate this is to say, " you chuckled as you began putting your heels back on. Bucky rose a brow at you. " But you kind of look like that winter solider guy that's everywhere on the news right now. "

Bucky immediately felt the blood drain from his face the moment you said that, and his eyes went wide, and he became speechless. And that was all just for you to laugh loudly, and immediately brush it off as nothing serious.

" I'm just messing with you. Have a good night. " You told him, snorting. And just like that, you were out the door like he had requested at the bar earlier that night.

That night, you were finally able to pinpoint where you knew his face from, but even as the next day rolled on, Bucky still couldn't figure out who you reminded him of.

#marvel #mcu #mcu smut #marvel smut #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier

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suntoru · 1 year ago

Text

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN <3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

#bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #rin x reader #rin x y/n #rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #bllk angst #bllk #blue lock #itoshi rin #itoshi x reader #itoshi x y/n #itoshi x you

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! 👋

I just found your blog and I'm already a fan!!

For "Love is in the Air", if it is convenient for you, may I request a "best friends to lovers" trope with FATWS Bucky?

Thanks in advance!!

BEST FRIENDS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, a little angst

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: You don't know for how long you have been in love with Bucky, your best friend, so you try to move on, but then he suggests you a double date...how will things end?.

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The air is crisp tonight, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and the distant hum of the city. You walk beside Bucky, the two of you taking the long way back to your apartment like always. The routine is familiar—comforting, even—but tonight feels different. Maybe it’s the way the streetlights cast a golden glow on his face, or the way his hands stay stuffed in his jacket pockets instead of gesturing as he talks. Maybe it’s just you, your own thoughts taking up too much space in your head again.

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes for longer than you care to admit. It crept up on you slowly, like the tide pulling in waves, until one day you realized you were drowning in it. It’s in the way your heart stumbles every time he looks at you, in the way you find yourself memorizing the exact shade of blue in his eyes when he laughs. It’s in the way you notice how he takes up space—not just physically, but in your life, in your thoughts, in everything. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s terrifying.

"You're quiet tonight," Bucky says, tilting his head toward you as he walks. The metal of his arm catches the light, glinting silver and gold where the Wakandans repaired it. "Something on your mind?"

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. "Just tired," you lie.

Bucky doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. He never does. He just nods and keeps walking, boots scuffing against the pavement.

A comfortable silence stretches between you, but your thoughts won’t settle. You should say something. You should tell him. Every moment with him is another second wasted, another opportunity slipping through your fingers like sand. But the fear keeps you quiet. The fear of ruining everything, of losing him, of shattering whatever this is between you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s beautiful in a way that shouldn’t be possible for someone who’s been through as much as he has. The scars, the pain, the weight of everything he carries—it should make him hard, unyielding. But Bucky is soft in the ways that matter. He remembers your favorite takeout order. He lets you steal the blankets when you fall asleep on his couch. He texts you to make sure you got home safe, even if he was the one walking you to your door.

And you—you're just the coward who can't say three little words.

The two of you reach your building, and you hesitate at the steps, turning to face him. Bucky stops a step below you, bringing him just a little closer to eye level. The streetlight above flickers, buzzing faintly.

"You wanna come up for a bit?" you ask. Your voice is steady, casual, like this is just another night. Like this isn't the hundredth time you've had to swallow down the truth.

Bucky hesitates, glancing up at your window. You can see the debate in his eyes—stay or go. And then he exhales, a small, almost-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, okay."

Your heart does a stupid little flip, and you hate how easily he affects you.

Inside, your apartment is warm, a contrast to the chill outside. Bucky shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of your couch like he’s done a million times before. You watch the way his muscles shift beneath his shirt, the way the fabric clings to him just enough to be distracting. You turn away quickly, pretending to busy yourself in the kitchen.

"Beer?" you ask, opening the fridge.

"Sure," Bucky says, dropping onto your couch with a sigh. "Long day."

You grab two bottles, twisting the caps off before joining him. The couch dips slightly under his weight, and his knee brushes against yours. You try not to think about it too much as you hand him a beer.

"You wanna talk about it?" you ask, knowing full well he probably won’t.

Bucky shakes his head, taking a sip. "Not much to say. Just—people suck."

"Yeah, they do," you agree, nudging his shoulder lightly. "But not all of them."

He hums, studying the label on his beer like it holds the answers to the universe. "No. Not all of them." His gaze flickers to you then, just for a second, and something in your chest tightens.

This is the part where you say it. Where you tell him.

But you don’t.

Instead, you take a long sip of your drink, letting the fizz burn your throat.

Bucky leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. His metal fingers tap absently against the bottle in his lap.

"You ever think about leaving?" he asks suddenly. His voice is quiet, thoughtful.

"Leaving?" you echo, confused.

"Yeah. Just…packing up, going somewhere new. Somewhere quiet."

The thought of Bucky leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, but you keep your expression neutral. "You thinking about running away, Barnes?"

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "Not running. Just…wondering. What it’d be like."

"You wouldn’t last a week without me," you tease, nudging his leg with your foot.

Bucky opens one eye, giving you a slow, lazy smile. "Yeah? You that sure about it?"

"Positive."

His smile fades slightly, and his gaze softens. He looks at you like he's trying to memorize something, like there's something on his mind he isn't saying. Maybe you're imagining it. Maybe you just want it to be there.

You force yourself to look away first, because if you don’t, you might do something stupid—like close the distance between you.

The silence stretches again, but this time it’s heavier. The weight of unsaid things presses down on you, suffocating.

Bucky shifts beside you, setting his beer on the coffee table. "I should probably head out," he says, though he makes no move to stand.

You want to ask him to stay. You want to say the words that have been burning in your throat for months. But the fear wins again.

"Yeah," you say instead, forcing a smile. "Thanks for hanging out."

Bucky hesitates, then nods. He stands, grabbing his jacket off the couch. He’s at the door when he pauses, glancing back at you. "You sure you’re okay?"

No.

"Yeah," you lie. "Just tired."

He studies you for a second longer, then sighs. "Alright. Get some sleep, okay?"

You nod, and then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You sink back onto the couch, exhaling shakily.

You should have said something.

But you didn’t.

The days blur together after that night. You and Bucky fall back into your routine—long walks, late-night talks, shared dinners—but something shifts under the surface. You feel it in the pauses between conversations, in the moments when your eyes meet just a little too long before one of you looks away. But neither of you says anything. The words stay trapped in your throat, heavy and unresolved.

You tell yourself it’s fine. This is fine. You have him in your life, and that should be enough. It has to be.

It’s a Friday night when Bucky suggests the bar. You’ve both had long weeks, and blowing off steam with a couple of drinks doesn’t sound like the worst idea.

“C’mon,” he says, giving you that lopsided grin that makes your heart stutter. “We’ll go to that spot you like. First round’s on me.”

You can’t say no when he looks at you like that.

The bar is already buzzing when you arrive. Warm lights cast a soft glow over the crowded space, music playing just loud enough to feel it in your chest. You find a small table tucked in the corner, close enough to the bar but far enough from the chaos.

Bucky orders drinks, and you settle into your seat, watching him at the counter. He’s relaxed tonight, shoulders loose, his hair pulled back into a low tie. There’s something about seeing him like this—unguarded—that makes it even harder to keep your feelings in check.

When he comes back with your drinks, you toast silently, the clink of glasses drowned out by the noise around you.

A few drinks in, you’re both laughing, the kind of easy laughter that only comes after years of friendship. It feels good, letting go of the tension that’s been simmering between you.

“I’ll grab another round,” Bucky says, pushing back from the table.

You nod, watching as he weaves through the crowd toward the bar. It’s only when he disappears from sight that you realize how exposed you feel without him nearby. You take a sip of your drink, trying not to overthink it.

“Hey there.”

You look up to see a man standing at your table, his smile easy and confident. He’s tall, dark-haired, with sharp features and warm brown eyes. He’s attractive, undeniably so.

“Hi,” you say, surprised.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

You hesitate, glancing toward the bar where Bucky’s still waiting for the drinks. But something about the man’s demeanor—charming but not overbearing—makes you nod.

“Sure.”

He slides into the seat, his smile widening. “I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, and the conversation flows easily. He’s funny, attentive, and there’s a certain energy about him that makes you feel…noticed. It’s been a while since anyone’s looked at you like that, and it feels nice. Different.

“So, you here with friends?” he asks, leaning in slightly.

“Yeah, just one,” you say, gesturing toward the bar. “He’s getting drinks.”

Daniel nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. “Boyfriend?”

You freeze for a second, the question hitting harder than you expect.

“No,” you say quickly, your heart sinking even as the word leaves your mouth. “Just friends.”

Daniel’s smile returns, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Well, in that case… can I have your number?”

You hesitate. Part of you feels like this is wrong, like you’re crossing some invisible line. But another part—the one that’s tired of waiting, tired of holding back—nudges you forward.

“Sure,” you say, forcing a smile.

You exchange numbers just as Bucky returns to the table, two fresh drinks in hand. His eyes flick to Daniel, then to you, taking in the scene with a blank expression.

“Hey,” Bucky says, his voice even, but you catch the slight edge in it.

“Hey, man,” Daniel says, standing up. “Just chatting with your friend here.”

Bucky’s jaw tenses, but he gives a short nod. “Yeah. Cool.”

Daniel turns to you, his smile softening. “I’ll text you.”

You nod, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you the entire time.

When Daniel disappears into the crowd, Bucky sits down, sliding your drink across the table. The air feels heavier now, the easy comfort from earlier slipping through your fingers.

“You make a new friend?” Bucky asks casually, though there’s something tight in his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “His name’s Daniel.”

Bucky hums, taking a sip of his drink. “Seems…nice.”

You glance at him, trying to read his expression, but he’s a closed book. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The conversation stutters after that. You both try to pick it back up, but the mood has shifted. You wonder if he noticed the way Daniel flirted with you, the way you smiled back. You wonder if he cares.

But he doesn’t say anything, and you don’t ask.

Later, as he walks you home, the silence is thick between you. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed ahead.

At your door, you hesitate. “Thanks for tonight,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally looks at you, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. “Yeah. Anytime.”

You wait, hoping—wishing—that he’ll say something else. Anything.

But he just gives you a small smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes, and turns to leave.

You watch him go, the weight in your chest heavier than ever.

Inside, your phone buzzes with a message from Daniel. You stare at it for a long time, the words blurring together.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Or maybe you do, and that’s what scares you the most.

Meanwhile, Bucky walks the dark streets alone, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter, that you’re free to give your number to whoever you want. But the tight knot in his chest says otherwise.

He’s not sure when it happened—when the lines blurred, when friendship stopped being enough—but tonight made it painfully clear.

And the worst part? He can’t even be mad. Because he never said anything either.

So, like always, he swallows it down and keeps walking, the city lights blurring around him.

A week passes before you see Bucky again.

It’s not on purpose. Life just gets in the way—work, errands, the quiet moments where you’re not sure if you’re still nursing a bruised ego from the bar or if you’re just overthinking it all. You and Bucky still text here and there—simple things, safe things—but it feels…off. Like there’s something lingering beneath the surface, an undercurrent you both pretend not to notice.

You’ve been texting Daniel. The guy from the bar. He’s charming—funny in a kind of self-deprecating way, and easy to talk to. Plus, he’s gorgeous. Tall, dark-haired, with an easy smile that makes you feel seen. He’s not Bucky, but maybe that’s the point.

You’ve met up with him twice since that night. Once for coffee and once for a walk through the park. Nothing serious. Nothing too intense. But he’s nice, and you’re trying—really trying—to give him a chance.

Bucky knows about Daniel. At least, he knows enough. You told him in passing, watching for any kind of reaction, but he just gave you a simple nod and a “That’s cool,” before changing the subject. The same way you reacted when he told you about Emily.

Emily.

He brought her up yesterday in a text. Apparently, Sam set them up. She’s smart, works in publishing, loves dogs, and according to Bucky, she has a laugh that “makes you wanna smile, even if you don’t get the joke.”

And then he dropped it—the idea.

A double date.

You hesitated. Long enough for him to notice.

“Could be fun,” he texted.

“Or a disaster,” you replied.

“Either way, we get free food out of it.”

So now here you are. Sitting at a small, dimly lit restaurant, across from Bucky, who looks unfairly good in a black button-down that fits him a little too well. Emily sits next to him, a bright, blonde energy wrapped in a sundress. Daniel is next to you, his arm casually resting on the back of your chair as he talks about some podcast he’s into.

You try to focus on Daniel’s words, but your eyes keep flickering to Bucky.

And Bucky? He’s watching everything.

At first, it’s subtle. A quick glance when Daniel orders a drink for you without asking. A tight smile when Daniel brings up a band he swears you love, but—you don’t. Not even a little.

“Wait, you’re into The Silver Sons too, right?” Daniel says, flashing that easy grin.

You hesitate. “Uh… not really. I think I mentioned I like The Silver Lines?”

He waves it off like it’s the same thing. “Right, right, that’s what I meant.”

You can practically feel Bucky’s stare from across the table, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Emily, blissfully unaware of the growing tension, laughs at something Bucky just said. Her hand rests on his forearm, fingers lightly tapping as she talks animatedly about her latest project at work.

You sip your wine, trying to drown the awkwardness.

But Bucky? He keeps finding flaws.

When Daniel orders your food and picks the wrong side dish, you notice the way Bucky stiffens.

“She actually prefers the garlic mashed potatoes,” Bucky says offhandedly, cutting into his steak.

Daniel blinks. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

You force a tight smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Emily laughs again, leaning into Bucky, but his eyes stay on you and Daniel.

It’s unbearable. The entire night is a slow unraveling—like a loose thread neither of you can stop pulling. Every time Daniel misremembers something about you, Bucky points it out. Casually, but with a bite just beneath the surface. And every time Emily laughs too hard at something Bucky says, you feel a small, petty part of you tighten.

“Hey, excuse me,” you say suddenly, pushing back from the table.

Bucky glances up, brow furrowing.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

Daniel looks confused but shrugs, turning his attention to Emily.

Bucky hesitates, then nods, following you out.

The night air is cooler than you expected, a breeze brushing against your skin as you step onto the sidewalk. The city hums around you—distant traffic, muffled laughter, the faint smell of street food wafting through the air.

You turn to face Bucky, folding your arms. “What the hell was that?”

He blinks, feigning innocence. “What was what?”

“Oh, come on, Bucky. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. “I was just making conversation.”

“By nitpicking everything Daniel said?”

“He didn’t even know your favorite side dish,” Bucky snaps. “Or the band you like. How hard is it to remember that?”

You stare at him, your chest tight. “Why do you even care?”

There’s a beat of silence—heavy, loaded.

Bucky swallows hard, eyes flicking away before settling back on you. “I don’t,” he lies.

You exhale sharply, frustration bubbling up. “You’ve been judging him all night. Finding reasons to hate him.”

“And you’ve been ignoring how wrong he is for you!”

The words hang there, sharp and raw.

You blink, taken aback. “What, so now you get to decide that?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps before stopping in front of you again. “I’m just saying… you deserve someone who knows you. Who actually sees you.”

Your heart pounds, but anger wins out. “And Emily? Is that what she is to you? Someone who sees you?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might say something—really say something—but instead, he exhales, frustrated.

“We’re not doing this now,” he mutters.

You glare at him. “Fine. We’ll finish this later.”

He nods, the tension between you crackling, before you both turn back toward the restaurant.

But the moment you step inside, everything stops.

Emily and Daniel are at the table—kissing.

Full-on, hands-wandering, completely oblivious to the fact that you and Bucky have returned.

It takes a second for your brain to process it.

You glance at Bucky, whose face is unreadable—stone-cold, like a switch flipped.

“Seriously?” you say, loud enough to break the moment.

Emily and Daniel pull apart, both of them wide-eyed and scrambling for excuses.

“Oh my god,” Emily breathes, wiping her mouth. “I—this isn’t—”

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky says, voice sharp but eerily calm.

Daniel stands, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t mean for—”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “It’s fine. Really. Just… go.”

They both fumble with their things, muttering apologies before hurrying out, leaving you and Bucky standing there, surrounded by half-eaten plates and awkward silence.

After a beat, Bucky lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Well. That was… something.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of anger and—somehow—relief. “Disastrous doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Bucky glances at you, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night. “Guess we dodged a bullet.”

You snort. “More like a grenade.”

For a moment, the tension eases, and it feels like the two of you again—normal, easy. But then you remember the fight. The things left unsaid.

Bucky must be thinking the same thing because he clears his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We should… talk. About earlier.”

You nod. “Yeah. We should.”

But not here. Not now.

“Let’s get out of here first,” you say, gesturing to the wreckage of the double date behind you.

Bucky gives a small, tight smile. “Lead the way.”

And as the two of you step out into the cool night again, you can’t help but wonder if this—this messy, complicated, tangled-up version of you and Bucky—is leading somewhere you’ve been too scared to go all along.

The walk back to your apartment is quiet—too quiet.

The kind of silence that hums, heavy and filled with everything neither of you are brave enough to say yet. You steal glances at Bucky as you walk side by side, the city buzzing around you. His hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his jaw clenched tight, that little line between his brows deeper than usual. You know that look—he’s thinking, overthinking probably, the way he always does when something’s sitting heavy on his chest.

You clutch your keys tighter in your hand, nerves bubbling up. The disastrous double date is still replaying in your mind—Emily and Daniel kissing like it was nothing, Bucky nitpicking every little thing Daniel did, the fight outside the restaurant. And now, this. The unbearable, suffocating quiet.

You reach your building and stop at the steps. For a moment, you think he’s going to make an excuse to leave, to run before either of you say something you can’t take back. But instead, Bucky just looks at you, almost unsure, before speaking.

“Can I come up?”

His voice is rougher than usual, lower. There’s something fragile in his eyes, something you’re not sure if you want to run from or run toward.

You swallow hard. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

The two of you climb the steps, and the weight between you feels heavier than it did at the restaurant. Every heartbeat is like a countdown. You unlock your door, pushing it open, and Bucky follows you inside.

The familiar warmth of your apartment feels suffocating now. Like the walls are closing in on the mess you’re about to make.

Bucky stands awkwardly near the door as you shrug off your jacket and toss your keys onto the counter. You feel him watching you, waiting for you to say something first.

But you’re not sure you can. Your throat feels too tight.

“So…” you finally start, turning to him.

He lets out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “That was a disaster.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

Another pause. The tension feels like it’s going to snap at any second.

“Why were you like that tonight?” The words come out sharper than you intended.

Bucky looks up at you, eyes narrowing slightly. “Like what?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Picking apart everything Daniel did. Acting like he was the worst person in the world.”

He bristles at that, taking a step forward. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you cut him off, frustration boiling over. “You spent the entire night pointing out every little thing he did wrong.”

“Because he doesn’t know you,” Bucky snaps, voice raising. “He didn’t know your favorite food, your music, the way you hate when someone orders for you without asking first. He didn’t know you.”

You freeze, heart racing. “And that’s your problem why?”

Bucky looks like he’s about to say something, but he clamps his mouth shut, jaw tightening.

“No,” you press, stepping toward him, anger and adrenaline mixing in your veins. “Say it, Bucky. You clearly have something to say.”

His hands ball into fists at his sides, that storm brewing behind his eyes. “Because I couldn’t stand watching it, alright? Watching him act like he knew you. Watching you pretend you liked it. It made me—” He stops, swallowing hard.

“Made you what?” you whisper, voice trembling.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, but he doesn’t speak.

Your heart pounds in your ears. You’re done dancing around it. You’re done holding it all in.

“It made you jealous,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion. “Because you’re in love with me, Bucky. You’ve been in love with me, and you’ve been too scared to say it. Well, guess what? So have I. I’ve been in love with you for months, and I thought if I said anything, I’d ruin this—ruin us—but I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

It’s out there now. Heavy and raw and terrifying. The truth sitting between you like a living, breathing thing.

Bucky’s eyes widen, his entire body stiffening at your words. His lips part, but no words come out.

And that’s when the crushing realization hits you—you’ve ruined it.

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head, the way he’s retreating inward, closing off. The fear and regret rise in your throat, and you feel your heart break in real time.

“I—shit, Bucky, I didn’t mean to—” You shake your head, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

But then, quietly, he speaks.

“I love you too.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stop breathing, blinking at him, sure you misheard.

He takes a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair before letting them fall to his sides. “I love you, and I’ve been too much of a damn coward to say it.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

“I didn’t say anything because—” he lets out a harsh laugh, his voice trembling—“because I’m me. I’m still…this. Still trying to figure myself out. Still filled with all this shit I can’t shake. And you? You deserve someone who has their head on straight. Someone who doesn’t carry as much baggage as I do.”

Tears burn your eyes now, but you step closer to him, your chest aching. “Bucky…”

“But I couldn’t stand watching you with him,” he confesses, his voice cracking. “Because it was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me.”

The tears slip free now, hot trails down your cheeks, but you’re smiling—because it’s him. It’s always been him.

You take another step, closing the space between you. “We’re both idiots.”

Bucky lets out a soft laugh, the kind that eases the tension in the room. “Yeah. Huge idiots.”

Your eyes meet his, and for a second, everything feels like it’s finally aligned—like all the messy, complicated, broken parts of you both finally found the right place.

And then you’re moving. Or maybe he is.

But suddenly, his hands are on your face, your fingers tangling into his jacket, and his lips crash into yours.

It’s messy at first—full of months of pent-up tension and emotion, the kind of kiss that feels like letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His lips are warm and soft, but there’s urgency there, a desperation to make up for all the lost time.

You melt into him, your entire body softening as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. His metal hand is gentle against your back, the coolness of it sending shivers up your spine.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and it makes you smile too, the kiss growing softer, slower, like the both of you realize there’s no more need to rush. You have time now. You have each other.

When you finally pull back, breathless and grinning, his forehead rests against yours. His eyes are shining, filled with so much emotion it makes your heart ache.

“So,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb across your cheek, “guess this makes us official?”

You laugh, tears and happiness mixing in your chest. “We haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Guess we kinda skipped that part.”

“I don’t mind,” you say softly, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “I’ve waited long enough for this.”

He smiles—really smiles—and for the first time in a long time, it reaches his eyes.

“Well,” he says, his voice low, “how about we start with breakfast tomorrow? A real date.”

You grin. “It’s a plan.”

And then he kisses you again—slow and sweet—and this time, there’s no rush. No fear. Just you and him, finally exactly where you were always meant to be.

The sun is barely peeking through the curtains when you feel it—the familiar weight of Bucky’s arm slung across your waist, his face buried against your neck. His warm breath fans across your skin as he mumbles something incoherent, still half-asleep, but his hold on you tightens, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“Bucky,” you whisper, not really wanting to move but feeling the slight cramp in your legs from being in the same position for too long.

He groans, his metal arm wrapping around you too now, practically cocooning you against him. “No. Stay.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart warming at the sheer neediness in his voice. This has become a pattern—every morning, Bucky wakes up wrapped around you like his life depends on it, refusing to let you go even when the sun’s fully up and the smell of coffee is drifting through the apartment.

“You’re so clingy,” you tease, running your fingers through his messy hair.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes soft but laced with a hint of worry. “You mind?”

It’s such a simple question, but it holds so much weight. You know what he’s really asking. He’s asking if it’s too much—if he’s too much.

You shake your head immediately, your fingers trailing down to cup his cheek. “I love it, Bucky. I love you.”

His shoulders relax at that, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I can stop.”

“Don’t. I like having my own personal heater.”

He laughs, the sound low and gravelly, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

You lie there for a while longer, tangled up in each other, until your stomach growls loud enough to make Bucky chuckle.

“Sounds like someone needs breakfast,” he teases, finally releasing you from his grasp.

You stretch your arms above your head, grinning. “I think someone promised me pancakes today.”

Bucky sits up, raking a hand through his hair. “I did. And I’m a man of my word.”

Getting out of bed is a slow process, mostly because Bucky keeps finding excuses to pull you back in for one more kiss. But eventually, you’re both dressed and out the door, hand in hand as you walk down the street to your favorite breakfast spot.

It’s a little diner on the corner—nothing fancy, but it’s cozy and has the best pancakes you’ve ever had. Bucky insists on sitting on the same side of the booth as you, his thigh pressed against yours, his arm draped over your shoulders. It’s a simple thing, but it makes your heart flutter every time.

The waitress comes over with two cups of coffee, already knowing your orders by heart. Bucky smiles at her before turning back to you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your arm.

“This is nice,” he says softly, as if the realization is just sinking in.

You look around the diner—the clinking of dishes, the soft hum of conversation, the sunlight streaming through the windows—and then back at him. “Yeah, it really is.”

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing bites from each other’s plates. Bucky pretends to be scandalized when you take a forkful of his pancakes, but you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Hey! Those are mine,” he says, though he makes no move to stop you.

You grin, mouth full. “Should’ve ordered more if you didn’t want to share.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re lucky I like you.”

After breakfast, you wander through the nearby park, the crisp morning air making your breath visible. Bucky keeps your hand in his the entire time, occasionally stopping just to pull you into a kiss, like he can’t help himself.

These mornings become a routine—simple, quiet, but filled with so much warmth. You try different breakfast spots around the city, some fancy, some hole-in-the-wall, but it’s never really about the food. It’s about the time together, the way Bucky looks at you like you’re the most important thing in his world, the way he instinctively reaches for you, like he needs to feel you close.

You start to notice more and more how touch-starved he really is. It’s in the small things—the way his hand always finds yours, even when you’re just watching TV. The way he’ll come up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. The way he sleeps almost on top of you, as if the closeness helps keep the nightmares at bay.

One morning, a few weeks into your breakfast tradition, you’re sitting at a tiny café with outdoor seating. It’s chilly, but Bucky insisted on sitting outside, claiming the fresh air was good for him. You’re bundled up in your jacket, sipping on a hot latte, when you notice Bucky watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, smiling at him over the rim of your cup.

He shakes his head, his eyes filled with something soft and unspoken. “Nothing. Just… this is more than I ever thought I’d have.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. “You deserve this, Bucky. You deserve to be happy.”

He swallows hard, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I didn’t think I could be. Not really. But you… you make me feel like I can.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. You squeeze his hand. “You’re not broken, Bucky. You never were.”

He looks down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And you’re the clingiest boyfriend ever,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Guilty.”

You spend the rest of the morning wandering around the city, stopping into little shops, Bucky’s arm always around you. He buys you a pastry from a bakery just because you mentioned once that you liked their croissants. It’s small gestures like that that make you fall for him even harder.

Eventually, the topic of telling Sam comes up.

“We should probably tell him,” you say one evening, curled up on the couch together.

Bucky groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “He’s never gonna let me live it down.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “He already knows, Bucky. He’s been waiting for this since forever.”

“He’s gonna be so smug.”

“He deserves it. He’s been our biggest supporter.”

Bucky sighs dramatically but agrees.

When you finally meet up with Sam, it’s at a small bar you all like. Sam’s already there, two beers in front of him, when you and Bucky walk in hand in hand.

Sam looks up, taking in the sight of you two together, and immediately bursts out laughing.

“I knew it!” he says, pointing a finger at Bucky. “I told you this would happen!”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Yeah, yeah. You were right.”

Sam stands up, pulling you both into a hug. “I’m happy for you guys. Took you long enough.”

You all sit down, the conversation flowing easily. Sam teases Bucky relentlessly, but it’s all good-natured, and Bucky takes it in stride.

At one point, Sam leans over to you. “You know he’s a total softie now, right?”

You laugh. “Oh, I know. He’s the clingiest person I’ve ever met.”

Bucky glares playfully at both of you but doesn’t deny it.

It’s moments like this—simple, filled with love and laughter—that make you realize just how much your life has changed.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The room is cloaked in soft darkness, the hum of the city faint beyond the windows. You're wrapped in Bucky’s arms, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back, the cool metal of his vibranium arm resting around your waist. It’s moments like this — peaceful, quiet — where you feel him relax the most, where the weight of his past seems to lift just enough for him to breathe freely.

You shift slightly under the covers, careful not to disturb him, feeling the deep rumble of his breathing as he sleeps. He’s been doing better lately — fewer nightmares, more restful nights — and you hoped, maybe, they were starting to fade. But part of you always knew they lingered beneath the surface, waiting for a crack to break through.

You’re drifting between sleep and wakefulness when you feel it — the subtle shift in his breathing. At first, it’s nothing, just a hitch in his chest, but then his grip on you tightens, the vibranium arm coiling closer, colder.

“Bucky?” you whisper softly, still half-asleep, but something about the tension in his body makes your heart race.

There’s no response — only the feeling of his metal fingers tightening around you, moving upwards from your waist to your chest. You shift, trying to gently wake him, but then the coolness of the vibranium presses against your throat.

“Bucky!” you call out, sharper now, panic seeping into your voice.

His metal arm locks around your neck, not crushing but firm enough that your breath catches, your pulse hammering in your ears. You claw at his wrist, not out of fear, but desperate to wake him. His breathing is erratic now, harsh gasps tearing through his chest as if he’s in the depths of a nightmare, trapped.

“Bucky, it’s me! Wake up!” you shout again, your fingers gripping his arm.

For a second, there’s nothing — just the terrifying strength of his hold — but then, like a switch flipping, his eyes snap open. Wild, glassy, unfocused. His entire body jerks, and his metal arm releases you instantly, his face contorting in horror as he scrambles away from you, nearly falling off the bed.

“Y/N! Oh my God—” His voice cracks, his chest heaving as he stares at you, eyes wide with pure panic.

You cough, your hand instinctively reaching for your throat where his arm had been, though there’s barely a mark — just the faintest hint of pressure lingering on your skin.

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—” Bucky stammers, his hands shaking, one metal and one flesh, as he backs further away. He’s on the edge of the bed now, looking like he’s about to bolt.

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you say quickly, your voice still hoarse but gentle.

But he’s already spiraling, his head shaking furiously. “I— I could’ve killed you. I almost— I had my arm—” His breathing is ragged, bordering on hyperventilating.

You move toward him carefully, trying not to spook him further, but he flinches when you get too close. The look on his face rips through you — pure terror mixed with disgust, not at you, but at himself.

“Bucky, listen to me. I’m fine.”

His eyes are fixed on your throat, as if expecting to see bruises forming. “I— I felt it. I was— I could’ve crushed—”

“You didn’t,” you insist, your hands reaching out, though he stays frozen, his body taut with tension. “I’m here. I’m breathing. You stopped before anything happened.”

But the guilt is already sinking deep into him, like poison. “I can’t— I can’t stay here. What if it happens again? What if I don’t stop next time?”

“You did stop,” you say, firmer now, moving closer despite his protests. “Bucky, you woke up. You let go.”

He swallows hard, but his eyes are glassy, rimmed red with unshed tears. “I can’t trust myself. I can’t—”

You close the gap between you, kneeling in front of him even as his hands fist into the sheets, his whole body trembling. You reach for his metal hand, hesitating just a beat before placing yours over it.

His fingers twitch under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You think I’m scared of you?” you ask softly.

“You should be,” he growls, though his voice breaks mid-sentence, pain lacing every word.

“I’m not,” you whisper. “I know you. I know your heart, Bucky. That wasn’t you — it was a nightmare. And the second you woke up, you stopped.”

“I could’ve hurt you.”

“But you didn’t,” you press, guiding his metal hand to rest over your heart. “Feel that? I’m okay. I’m here.”

His fingers tremble against your chest, and when he finally looks up at you, tears spill over, slipping silently down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Your own throat tightens at his words, your heart breaking in your chest. “You deserve everything good in this world, Bucky. Even if you don’t see it yet.”

He lets out a choked sob, his body sagging forward until his forehead presses against your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling the weight of him as he finally lets himself collapse into you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against your skin.

“I know,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. “But you don’t have to be. Not for this.”

It takes a long while for his breathing to steady, for the tremors to leave his hands, but eventually, you feel the tension begin to ease from his body.

You guide him back onto the bed gently, though he hesitates, his eyes flicking to his metal arm like it’s the enemy.

“I don’t know if I can—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You can,” you say firmly. “Lay with me. Please.”

He swallows hard, but when you lie back against the pillows and open your arms, he finally gives in, moving slowly, cautiously, until his head rests against your chest.

At first, his body remains rigid, his breathing shallow, but as your fingers comb through his hair and your heartbeat thuds steadily beneath his ear, he starts to melt into you. His metal arm, which had been curled tightly against his side, now hesitantly moves, wrapping around your waist, though his touch is featherlight, as if still scared to hold on too tightly.

You press a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “See? You’re okay. We’re okay.”

His voice is muffled against your chest when he finally speaks again. “I was back there. In the chair. I could feel it. I could hear them.”

You tighten your arms around him, feeling the weight of his confession settle deep inside you. “But you’re not there anymore. You’re here. With me.”

His fingers dig lightly into your side, seeking more contact, more grounding. “I was so scared. Of what I might do.”

“I know,” you whisper, tears pricking your eyes. “But you fought it, Bucky. You won.”

There’s a long silence, filled only with the soft sound of your breathing. And then, finally, you feel him fully relax, his head heavy against your chest, his body no longer trembling.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers again, but this time, there’s less conviction in his voice.

“You deserve love, Bucky. You deserve peace,” you say, running your fingers through his hair, feeling his body sag deeper into yours.

It takes time, but eventually, his breathing evens out, and you realize he’s fallen asleep — this time, peacefully, safely, his head cradled against your heart.

You hold him there, vowing silently that you’ll be here for all of it — the nightmares, the darkness, and the moments of light that you know will only grow stronger.

Because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s this: Bucky Barnes is worth fighting for. Even when he can’t see it himself.

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