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ramp-it-up · 2 months ago

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Baby Cakes & Tough Guy

Summary: You co-own Baby Cakes Bakery with your bestie Monica Rambeau, direct competition for the Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson owned Howling Commando Baked Goods. And now you are competing head to head in The Best in Brooklyn Bake-Off. You're sugar, spice and everything nice and Bucky is... Grumpy. Can you sweeten him up, or is he going to make you into a sour puss?

Word count: 5.3K

Pairing: Baker!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Reader;

Sam Wilson x reader, & Monica Rambeau x reader (platonic)

A/N: This is inspired by the #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Bakery AU, and has completed my card. I don't know if you could tell, but I have had an absolute BALL with these prompts. And this one was especially fun. Let me know what you think! Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All errors my own. Angst. Grumpy Bucky, rustic baking, baking competition, mutual pining, rivalries, undeniable chemistry, Bucky’s an ass, but he makes up for it, oral (m/f receiving), sloppy blow job, praise kink, nipple play, orgasm denial, raw p-in-v, creampie, reference to eating the groceries, possessive Bucky. 😁

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The first time you ever saw Bucky Barnes, he was scowling at a sack of flour like it personally offended him.

You adjusted your Baby Cakes apron and bit back a laugh.

“This is gonna be fun,” you murmured as you set up your station in The Best in Brooklyn Bake-Off tent in Prospect Park.

“Fun?”

Monica snorted from beside you.

“Babe, this is war. Do you even know who that is?”

You glanced over at the very grumpy man two stations down. His broad shoulders strained against a black apron that read Tough Guy, and his arms were crossed like he’d rather be anywhere but here. His biceps popped as he folded them tighter.

Damn.

And then his sharp blue eyes flicked to yours. You definitely got caught staring. Bucky’s scowl deepened and you suppressed the urge to stick out your tongue.

“Should I?” you asked Monica, arching a brow.

She leaned in conspiratorially.

“That’s Bucky Barnes. Co-owner of Howling Commandos Baked Goods. And you know they’ve been stealing our customers with their ‘no-frills, real-deal, rustic baking’ nonsense.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh no. Not rustic baking,” you mocked.

“I’m serious!”

Monica flapped a hand.

“Foodie blogs won’t shut up about them. And he and his partner, Sam Wilson, act like they’re too cool for anything frilly.”

She air-quoted dramatically.

“AKA us.”

You shrugged.

“Guess we’ll have to prove them wrong.”

But as you turned back to your ingredients, you felt it, that distinct sensation of being watched. And when you glanced up again, Bucky was still looking.

Not just looking, but assessing.

Outright staring.

Then, at the last second, his mouth quirked in the faintest smirk. A silent challenge.

Your stomach flipped.

Yes. This was going to be interesting.

—

Bucky was already regretting this.

The second Sam convinced him to sign up for this competition, he knew it was a mistake.

"Dude, it’s good exposure. Plus, imagine the free marketing when we crush everyone else."

Bucky had reluctantly agreed. But now, standing in this tent, surrounded by pastel-colored mixing bowls and way too much cheerfulness, he was rethinking everything.

Especially when he saw you.

You.

You, with your too-bright smile and sugar-dusted cheeks.

You, adjusting your apron, hands moving with the ease of someone who loved this.

You, already chatting with the other contestants, laughing like this was a Saturday morning bake sale instead of a competition.

And the worst part?

You were good.

He hadn’t tasted a single thing you’d made yet, but he could tell.

By the way that you measured your ingredients with confidence.

By the way you scanned your recipe, fully in control.

By the way you smiled like baking was fun.

Sam elbowed him.

“Dude. You’re staring.”

Bucky grunted.

“Sizing up the competition.”

“Yeah? Or are you just into her?”

Bucky fixed Sam with a glare.

“She’s the enemy.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Sam snorted.

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned back to his station.

This was just a competition.

Nothing more.

—

You never expected this when you signed up for The Best in Brooklyn Bake-Off.

Stress? Absolutely.

Flour in your hair? Without a doubt.

A full-blown panic attack over an underbaked sponge cake? Practically guaranteed.

But Bucky Barnes?

Never in a million years.

And yet, there he was, the grumpiest, scowliest contestant in the history of televised baking.

"Are you serious?" he muttered, watching as you carefully piped pink buttercream onto your cupcakes.

You glanced up, blinking adorably up at him.

"What?"

He jerked a thumb at your apron, enjoying the view as he eyed the logo printed across your breasts.

"Baby Cakes."

You flashed a proud grin.

"That’s our bakery."

His scowl deepened. He already knew that. He was there for your introduction.

Of course, you would own a place called Baby Cakes, a bright, pastel-colored bakery specializing in mini cupcakes and love-themed treats. It was the exact opposite of his and Sam’s Howling Commandos Baked Goods, where everything was dark wood, bold flavors, and exactly zero sprinkles.

"Figures," he muttered.

Bucky told himself he didn’t like the way you smile. That the sound of your laugh wasn’t cute as hell.

And that was a problem because every time you smiled at him, it got that much harder to pretend he didn’t love it. And every time you laughed, it became difficult as hell to not laugh with you.

And the way you looked. He took the opportunity to appreciate your generous curves, and the way your thick curls hid your cute as a candy button face as you were concentrating on what you were doing.

The thought popped into his head that wanted to taste you.

Where did that come from?

He cleared his throat as you finished piping, straightened up, and extended your hand. Bucky hesitated, then took it grudgingly.

Your name rolled easily off your tongue, warm and inviting. He uttered his in return, then slowly extracted his hand, swiping the bit of frosting you left behind onto his finger.

And then, he licked it off.

You shouldn’t have found messy hands sexy. But watching Bucky Barnes taste your buttercream, his tongue swiping slowly over his fingertip?

Yeah. That definitely did something to you.

You let out a small hum before you stopped yourself.

Or was that a moan?

His blue eyes flicked up, knowing, teasing, and challenging you.

"Way too much sugar," he muttered, backing away as he took note of your dilated eyes.

He thought about your reaction to him and almost tripped over Sam while trying to look cool. You bit your lip to hold back your laughter as he stormed back to his station, looking like an actual thundercloud.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head.

"Man, you’re screwed."

And for the first time in his life, Bucky wondered if maybe Sam was right.

—----

Day after day, you and Bucky clashed.

He rolled his eyes at your sprinkles. You teased him about his obsession with “serious” baking.

But somewhere between the macaron challenge and the lightning round, something shifted.

One night, after a particularly brutal bread challenge, you found yourselves alone in the kitchen. The others had gone, but you were still cleaning up when Bucky leaned against the counter, watching you.

“You surprised me today,” he said gruffly.

You glanced over at him, raising a brow.

“Because I made a decent brioche?”

He smirked, just a little.

“Because you didn’t let the stress get to you.”

You scoffed.

“I did cry a little behind the fridge.”

That almost-smirk softened into something dangerously close to a smile. And you almost swooned at how handsome he was.

“You care about this. That’s… kinda cool.”

Your heart did a funny little flip.

Bucky should have walked away. Should’ve ignored the way you looked at him like he wasn’t the grumpiest asshole in the tent.

But he didn’t. Instead, he reached out, swiping a bit of frosting from your wrist.

“Lemon?” he guessed.

“Vanilla bean with a hint of lime,” you corrected.

He licked it off his finger, his blue eyes never leaving yours. You grew warm as you noted the twinkle in those true blue eyes.

You began to wonder if he did it on purpose, if he knew how it affected you last time.

He nodded.

“Not bad, Baby Cakes.”

And just like that, you knew that maybe grumpy, scowly Bucky Barnes wasn’t such a tough guy after all.

——-

By the fifth day of the competition, tensions were high.

And not just the who’s-going-to-win-the-grand-prize kind of tension.

No.

This was something else. Something hotter.

Which is why, when you snuck into the kitchen after hours to squeeze in some extra practice, you weren’t even surprised to find Bucky Barnes already there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his black apron slung over his shoulder like he owned the place.

“Seriously?” you sighed, setting down your mixing bowl. “You couldn’t pick another time to lurk in the shadows like some kind of kitchen goblin?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d gotten from him all week.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a whisk.

“Well, I was here first.”

“No, you weren’t.”

You huffed. “I was in spirit.”

That did it.

Bucky let out something suspiciously close to a laugh, a low, raspy sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. Shaking it off, you started working, pouring flour into a bowl and focusing on your batter.

Or at least, you tried to.

But you could feel his eyes on you, staring at you intently. After a few minutes, you glanced up, exasperated.

“What?”

“I didn’t peg you for the burning-the-midnight-oil-so-you-can-win-the-competition kind of intense.”

"I’m not usually," you admitted, nudging a stray bit of flour with your foot.

"Just… nerves, I guess."

He pushed off the counter and strolled over to you.

"You’re gonna dominate this competition, Baby Cakes. You’re good.”

You blinked. Did Bucky Barnes, the king of scowls, just compliment you?

Your brow furrowed.

“Is this some kind of mind game? Because if it is, I’m not falling for it, Tough Guy.”

He shrugged, and this time, he smiled. A real one. Just a flicker, but enough to make your pulse trip.

“No games. Just calling it like I see it.”

You were incredulous.

“You do know I’m your biggest competition, right?"

"Yeah.” His eyes searched your face. “And I still meant it."

Something in your chest tightened. And it was bad. Really bad. Because for the first time since this competition started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to beat Bucky Barnes.

Or kiss him.

You mentally rattled off all the reasons why that was a terrible idea, but before you could get through them, his voice cut through your thoughts.

“I can hear your brain going, you know.”

You gasped, half-thinking he could actually read your mind.

“You’re an over thinker,” he said, quiet but certain, like he already knew you.

“And your worst habit is scowling at my cupcakes like you're judging them,” you teased, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

Bucky laughed again.

“I am judging. Too much frosting.”

You were ready to fire back, but the moment your eyes locked, the words caught in your throat. The dim kitchen light softened him. Made him look less guarded, more real. His sharp blue gaze flicked over your face, lingering on your lips just a second too long.

The air between you shifted, heavier than before. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerators and your own heartbeat pounding way too fast.

You gaped at him.

"Well, you!... I mean, do you, um…,"

You cleared your throat and looked around at everything else in the tent except Bucky.

"You have a favorite moment from the bake off so far?"

Bucky studied you for a beat, then smirked. He was making you uncomfortable. How interesting. He wasn't alone in this infatuation.

"Yeah."

You waited, expecting him to say something about his caramel tarts or his perfect sourdough. Instead, he took a step closer.

"It was the first day," he murmured.

"When you walked in with that ridiculous pink apron and told the judges your bakery was called Baby Cakes. I remember thinking…"

He shook his head.

"Damn. I’m in trouble."

Your breath hitched.

"Bucky…"

But before you could say anything, before you could do anything, he stepped back, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Night, Baby Cakes," he said, his voice rough.

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart racing, brain spinning, completely and utterly ruined for him.

—

After that night, everything between you and Bucky changed. You still bickered. Oh, did you bicker. But now every jab carried a tension that coiled tighter with every glance.

"Too much sugar, Baby Cakes," he mumbled during the pastry challenge, his voice low as his sharp eyes raked over your cherry almond tart with disdain.

"Too much salt, Tough Guy," you fired back, swiping a taste of his dark chocolate sea salt ganache before he could stop you.

He froze as you licked the spoon clean, your tongue sliding across the curve with deliberate precision. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t name.

Oh.

“That’s debatable,” he finally managed, though his voice came out rough, almost strained.

You smiled, thinking you might have a lot power.

And then came the announcement that made your stomach flip. The dreaded Team Challenge.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Bucky groaned when the producers called your names together.

"Oh, come on," you teased, bumping his arm with a grin you hoped looked more confident than you felt. "You’re gonna love working with me."

"Doubt it," he grumbled, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

The challenge? A three-tiered wedding cake, elegant and sophisticated.

A perfect harmony of flavors, the producers said. In reality, it felt like a recipe for disaster.

Your styles clashed like oil and water. You craved delicate piping and romantic floral details; Bucky wanted bold flavors and sharp, clean lines.

Hearts versus hands.

Sugar versus salt.

But somewhere between rolling fondant and whipping buttercream, something shifted.

He steadied your hands when your piping wavered, his warm fingers brushing yours just a little longer than necessary. You softened his scowls with quick jokes, your laughter breaking through the walls he tried to keep firmly in place.

You moved like you’d been baking together for years, finding a rhythm that felt natural.

When the final timer buzzed, you both stepped back, staring at your creation in awe.

Three tiers of vanilla bean sponge cake, layered with a tart blackberry compote and tangy lemon curd, wrapped in pristine white fondant. Gold dust kissed the edges, while delicate sugar roses cascaded down the sides like a fairytale.

It wasn’t just good. It was breathtaking.

For the first time, Bucky turned to you without his usual smirk or scowl.

“Nice work, Baby Cakes,” he murmured, his voice low.

“You too, Tough Guy,” you whispered, your heart racing at the way his eyes lingered on you.

The judges swooned, declaring it the best cake of the show. You and Bucky won the challenge.

Without thinking, Bucky picked you up, arms wrapped around your waist and spun you around. The broad smile on his face disappeared as you slid down his body back to the ground.

Both of you cleared your throats and went opposite ways out of the tent, as Monica and Sam shared a look.

Later that night, after the cameras stopped rolling, you found yourself outside by the catering table, sneaking an extra slice.

"Thought you’d be sick of it by now," Bucky said, leaning beside you, his presence close and warm in the cool night air.

"Never," you grinned, licking a dollop of frosting off your thumb before realizing how much attention he was paying to the movement.

“Although,” you added, suddenly self-conscious, “I should probably stop sampling the wares. My jeans are struggling.”

You looked away, cheeks warming, thinking about how you had to jump to put your jeans on, but when you glanced back, you caught him looking. Not just at you, but at your ass in your jeans.

“Looks like a productive struggle,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a husky timbre that made your pulse skip. “Don’t change a thing, Baby Cakes.”

Bucky licked his lips, his gaze trailing back to your mouth, and before you could process what was happening, his thumb brushed your lips, swiping away some frosting.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic. It was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment, savoring the essence of you. Bucky tasted like buttercream and something more flavorful, something with more depth. Something like him.

His lips moved against yours with knee-weakening confidence, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other cradling your jaw.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you couldn’t stop yourself from murmuring, "Not bad."

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin.

"Not bad at all."

The kiss felt like magic, like folding sugar into butter, like the perfect meringue gaining its peaks. But then reality came crashing back.

“Well, well, well!”

You and Bucky sprang apart, both turning to see Monica standing there, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Uh," you stammered, feeling your stomach drop.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Monica.

"So, are you two, like, together-together?" Monica asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

"Or was this just a ‘we made a wedding cake and got caught up in the moment’ thing?"

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Bucky beat you to it.

"We’re not together," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ouch.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, but Monica’s raised brow told you she wasn’t buying it.

"Riiight," she drawled. "Well, if you were together, you’d make a killer duo. That cake? Best one I’ve had in a long time."

She sauntered off, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning and heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.

"Listen, Baby Cakes," Bucky started, his voice tight, but you held up a hand.

"Nope," you said quickly, your tone sharp. "It’s fine. We’re here to bake, not… whatever that was."

His jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly.

"Right. Baking. That’s what we’re here for."

Later, at the bar celebrating with the crew, you avoided him entirely, but you felt his eyes on you all night.

“Bucky’s over there looking like someone stole his candy thermometer.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder and found him watching you moodily. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your drink.

“He’ll be aight.”

Monica shook her head.

“Ya’ll are two hard heads, but that’s one of my business.”

When Monica left you alone, you thought about what happened earlier. How embarrassed you were when Bucky denied anything between you. And now here he was, moping around because you wouldn’t speak to him.

Too bad, you thought bitterly. Bucky blew his chance. You weren’t about to let yourself get hurt again.

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the question: Why did that kiss feel like the start of something?

At first, Bucky told himself he’d dodged a bullet. You were too bubbly, too happy, too... everything he wasn’t. It would never have worked.

But as he watched you laugh with everyone else, refusing to look his way, something felt wrong.

Wrong like a cake that collapsed in the oven.

Wrong like he’d measured something incorrectly and couldn’t figure out what.

He saw it in your eyes.

In the way your shoulders stiffened when he denied anything between you.

In the way you brushed flour off your apron aggressively.

Bucky fucked up.

And now, all he could think about was how to fix it, because for the first time in years, he was craving a little sugar to balance his spice.

—-

The next morning, before filming started, Bucky found you in the prep kitchen, alone. You were at the counter, rolling out dough with a little too much force, your shoulders tight, your jaw clenched.

"That dough do something to offend you, Baby Cakes?" he asked, leaning against the counter, hoping the teasing tone would draw out the usual playful spark in your eyes.

But you didn’t look up.

"Just getting out some aggression," you muttered, your hands moving with sharp, angry precision.

Bucky exhaled, frustration building. He wanted to fix this. He wanted to be better at saying the right thing, but years of being tough and closed-off made it hard for the words to come.

So he said nothing.

Instead, he did what he knew best.

He baked.

When he came back to himself, baking became his real therapy. A time and space for him to really work out all that he had seen and done.

A chance to create instead of destroy.

Silently, he worked at the station next to yours, kneading dough, measuring ingredients, and whisking with deliberate care. You pretended not to notice, but as the warm scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and caramel began to fill the air, it became impossible to ignore.

Finally, he slid a small plate toward you, a delicate pastry, golden brown and still warm.

"What’s this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Sticky bun," he said, shifting on his feet. "Made it the way you like. Soft in the middle. Extra pecans."

How did he know that? Monica.

Your lips pressed together, but the flicker of interest in your eyes gave you away. He'd done his research on you. Breaking off a piece, you popped it into your mouth, and immediately sighed.

It was perfect. Gooey and rich, sweet but balanced.

"Okay," you admitted, trying to keep your tone neutral.

"This is dangerously good."

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile as he watched you eat.

"I was an ass yesterday," he said softly, his voice low and rough.

"I didn’t mean to… Look, I panicked. I wasn’t trying to hurt you."

You put the sticky bun down and turned to face him fully, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze.

"Then what were you trying to do?"

His tongue swept over his bottom lip, his brows furrowing like he was weighing each word carefully.

"I guess I thought if I said it out loud, it’d be easier to ignore how much I want you," he confessed, his voice raw and unguarded.

"Didn’t work."

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed, suddenly too aware of how close he was standing, of the heat radiating from his body. Of how he seemed to be holding himself back at the moment.

"You want me," you said slowly, almost testing the words.

Bucky nodded, his gaze unwavering.

"Yeah. And I know I’ve gotta prove it now. Because I fucked up.”

His blue, blue eyes shone with sincerity. And something else.

“I fumbled a beautiful, talented, sexy woman like you."

You let the silence stretch, let him sweat a little. Then, with deliberate slowness, you broke off another piece of the sticky bun and pressed it to his lips.

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, he opened his mouth, taking the bite, and sucking the tips of your fingers into his mouth and licking between them as he did, eyes on you the entire time. The gentle pull of his lips sent a thrill down your spine. And the vulgar promise of his tongue had heat pooling low in your belly.

Your nipples hardened, and a fresh wave of arousal swept through you, dampening your panties.

"G-good start," you murmured, your voice husky. "But it’s just a start."

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips at your stutter.

"Then I guess I’ll just have to keep sweetening you up," he drawled, the heat in his gaze making it clear he wasn’t just talking about baking.

But you weren’t letting him off the hook that easily. For the rest of the day, you kept your distance, not too far, but far enough to make him feel it. Enough to make him yearn for you.

Bucky turned into an absolute softie, sneaking you little treats between takes, making sure you had the good whisk before grabbing his own, brushing a hand against your lower back, warm finger splayed wide, when he passed behind you, murmuring a low "behind" that sent shivers racing across your skin.

Monica noticed, of course.

"You’re making him work for it," she said approvingly as she piled buttercream onto a tray of cupcakes.

"I’m not–"

She shot you a knowing look. "Girl, please."

Fine. Maybe you were. Maybe you liked watching Bucky struggle his way through this. Maybe you liked seeing the grumpiest man in the competition try to charm you with sugar, spice, and smoldering glances that left your pulse skipping.

They announced you as winner of the competition and Bucky inclined his head at you, a real smile on his face.

And that night, he took it a step further.

------

When you came back late to the brownstone after staying out with the others, you found something waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

A cake.

Not just any cake, your favorite. Fucking Monica.

It was carrot cake, three perfectly even layers of moist, spiced goodness, slathered with smooth cream cheese frosting. Tiny sugar pearls lined the edges, and an intricate sugar carrot sat on top.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat.

Bucky stood off to the side, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, biceps popping. He was still in his apron, his face serious, but his blue eyes searched yours, a flicker of uncertainty behind them.

"Took me all damn night," he said gruffly.

You stepped closer, still processing.

"You made this?"

His jaw ticked, like he was bracing for impact.

"Had some help from Sam," he admitted.

A loud snort came from the doorway.

"Some help? Try a lot," Sam called as he trudged up the stairs.

"Give him a break, Baby Cakes, so he can stop behaving like a lovesick idiot every time you walk into, or out of a room. Or basically all the time."

Bucky ignored him, his attention fixed on you.

"Lovesick?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck.

“Yeah. I uhhh…”

Bucky looked so cute in that moment, the most vulnerable you’d seen him.

"I need you to know that I see you," he said, his voice low and steady.

"I see how much heart you put into your baking. How much you care about this, about everything."

He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

"And I see that I hurt you, and I hate that."

You stared at him, at the raw emotion in his eyes. Slowly, you picked up a fork and took a bite of the cake.

It was perfect. Moist, spiced just right, and the frosting was tangy and smooth.

"Damn you," you muttered, your voice thick.

"That bad?" he asked, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension.

"No," you huffed. "It’s amazing."

His lips twitched. "Good."

Setting the fork down, you stepped closer until there was barely an inch between you. His breath hitched as your hand pressed against his chest, the heat of him seeping into your palm.

"You really want this?" you murmured. "Us?"

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

"Yes," he said firmly, his voice steady. "I do."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. He leaned in, and this time, when his lips found yours, it wasn’t gentle. It was fire, slow at first, then smoldering.

But then Bucky groaned against your mouth, a sound that sent shockwaves through you, and the heat increased. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

You pulled him closer by his shirt and his hands slid past your waist, gripping your ass like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure this was real.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp, “Bucky,” but he swallowed whatever you were about to say, and lifted you onto the counter in one fluid motion.

You barely had time to register the cold marble beneath you before his hands were everywhere, skimming up your thighs, gripping your hips, and tracing fire along your skin. You hooked your legs around him, dragging him closer, until you could feel his hard cock in his jeans, letting you know just how much he wanted this, how much he wanted you.

“Your room or mine?” he rasped, his voice thick with need.

“Oh God…”

You struggled to think through the haze of arousal clouding your mind. Your room at the back of the house was tucked away from everyone else.

“Mine.”

Bucky kissed you again, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Smart cookie.”

You giggled softly as he lifted you off the counter, and the two of you tried, and failed, to make it to your room quietly. By some miracle, you managed to shut the door before his hands were back on you.

"I've not been with anyone in over a year. Still get tested every six months."

Bucky's voice was sexy; what he was saying was even more so.

“But tell me to stop if you don’t want to do this,” he rasped against your neck.

You tilted your head back, offering more.

“Don’t you dare.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as his mouth crashed back onto yours, his tongue sweeping past your lips with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming your tight nipples and drawing shivers in their wake.

He pulled back just enough to lift the hem of your shirt, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Can I?”

You nodded, but he shook his head, his jaw tight.

“Need you to say it.”

You stepped back, peeling your shirt off yourself, a teasing grin on your lips.

“How’s that for consent? I want you tonight, Bucky Barnes. Got tested last month and I have an IUD. You can fuck me raw if you want.”

His breath hitched, his eyes darkening with raw, unfiltered desire.

“Jesus,” he murmured, his hands spreading over you like he was memorizing the feel of you. “You’re perfect.”

His blue eyes glowed as he wrapped one hand around your neck, his thumb resting on your pulse point, making your heart flutter.

You lifted his shirt and ran your fingers over his stomach and abs, exploring his warm skin as the kiss intensified even more.

You reached for his shirt, sliding it up to reveal taut muscle and smooth skin. Your hands explored him, tracing the lines of his stomach as the kiss deepened.

You were aching for him.

When his mouth moved lower, tracing hot kisses down your neck and between your collarbones, a soft moan escaped you. He didn’t stop there, his lips finding your nipples through the lace of your bra. The wet heat of his tongue teased you mercilessly until he unhooked the clasp.

“Bucky,” you gasped, your pussy clenching as his lips closed around your bare nipple. He suckled urgently, his hand massaging the other, and the pleasure shot straight to your core.

When he knelt in front of you, tugging your jeans and panties down, you gasped as you looked down into his shining blue eyes.

You stepped out of them and almost immediately, and he used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips open. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to you there.

“Been waiting to taste you, Baby Cakes,” he said, his voice a low rasp.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewled as his tongue parted your folds, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit.

Bucky lifted one leg onto his shoulder and you arched against his mouth, gasping when he laved your clit and licked up the wetness collected in your slit.

“Mmmmm. Delicious,” Bucky’s eyes glinted up at you.

He groaned in satisfaction.

“Sweet, with just a hint of spice… just like I thought.”

You pushed Bucky’s head back to where it was meant be.

“Stop talking and eat me, Barnes.”

His chuckle vibrated against you, and then his tongue found your clit, sending a sharp spike of pleasure through your body. He licked and sucked, working you like it was his life’s purpose, and every flick of his tongue pushed you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m gonna…”

But he pulled back before you could finish, leaving you trembling and desperate. You barely had time to protest before he stood, kissed you hard, and moved you to the foot of the bed.

Clothes hit the floor in a blur, and when you finally looked down, his cock stood proudly between you. You sat down on the bed, and you were face to face with the most beautiful penis you’d ever seen.

It was long and thick and heavily veined with a large perfectly shaped head. Your mouth watered, and you looked up at him.

“Need to taste you now, Tough Guy.”

You leaned forward and licked him from base to head stopping to suck on it, relishing the tight flesh in your mouth, then slurped the pre-cum dripping from his slit. Then you pulled off, jacking him with the lubrication of your saliva.

“Tangy, yet surprisingly sweet. A piquant–”

Bucky cut you off by shoving his cock as far down your throat as he could. You moaned around him, adding to his pleasure.

You looked up at him and his eyes were incandescent. You didn’t break eye contact as your throat constricted around his hardness, your mouth dripping with spit. Your eyes stung with tears, but you kept pushing until you were choking around the base of his big dick.

Bucky watched you with fascination, his hips involuntarily pushing shallowly into your mouth.

“Christ. You’re gonna fucking ruin me,” he rasped. “So good. So perfect. But I knew you would be.”

You moaned at the praise, pulling off of him, long strings of fluid connecting your mouth to his delicious cock.

“Who knew that Baby Cakes was such a Dirty Girl,” he purred, eyes ablaze. “Need to fuck you now, sweetheart.”

You whimpered and leaned back as Bucky leaned over you and slid into you in one slow, deliberate thrust. You swore the world stopped spinning.

“Fuck, Baby…”

His forehead dropped to yours, his voice trembling as he filled you slowly, completely. Your body arched, your nails digging into his shoulders as you reacted to the stretch.

“Bucky…”

“Look at me,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

“Wanna see you.”

And then he moved, each thrust hitting you perfectly, dragging moans from your lips. After finding the technique to make you crumble around him, his control slipped, his movements grew frantic, desperate, and it was heaven.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your body tightening around him. “Always.”

Your climax hit like a tidal wave, pulling you under. Bucky followed with a ragged groan, burying himself deep as he spilled into you.

When the world settled, he pressed a lazy kiss to your jaw, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

“Told you I’d win… you over.”

You huffed a breathless laugh, running your fingers through his damp curls.

“Asshole.”

His grin widened.

“Is that what you want me to taste next?”

His eyes flicked down your body.

“Seems to be lots of buttercream down there…”

“Bucky!” you yelped as he reached for you again.

—-

Did you like it? Let me know!

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #hbbb #bucky barnes x you #baker!bucky #baker!bucky barnes #x reader #avengers assemble bingo #sam wilson #monica rambeau #4bbingo #happy birthday bucky barnes

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 months ago

Text

Sugar Rush

Pairing: Baker!Bucky X Baker!Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, implied Smut, baking inaccuracies, friends who are idiots to lovers,

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I’ve had this one brewing for y e a r s so I really hope I did the og idea justice <3

~*~

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

You roll your eyes and shove past him, hanging your coat up in the back office while he follows.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, this time it wasn’t my fault! My car keeps refusing to start in the mornings! And someone said he’d check it out, but he hasn't yet.” You side-eye your best friend and he widens his eyes and looks away from you.

“Exactly what I thought, Barnes. Don’t even try to pin this on me. Now, pass me an apron so I can get started.”

Bucky complies, handing you an apron and leading the way to the kitchen where your latest project has been waiting.

“I love the fall time. Virgo and Libra season are almost as bad as Christmas. And we’re in the rich neighbourhood, too!” Your boss, Sandy, chirps.

She’s got her glasses perched on her nose and a smudge of what looks like blue icing on her chin.

“They keep us running, that’s for sure,” Bucky agrees with a grin.

You pull on a hairnet then wash your hands as the two of them talk about the cupcake order she’s working on.

Finally ready to start, you turn to the cake and purse your lips.

A custom-ordered cake that’s supposed to look identical to Stark Tower. Not hard at all. Nope. No sir.

In front of you sits several layers of cake stacked on top of each other, held together by icing and some long skewers.

Taking a glance at the reference pictures, you grab a knife and start slowly cutting away at pieces of the cake on the table.

You work quietly, tongue poking out of the side of your lips as you focus, eyes darting between the pictures and the cake until finally, nearly an hour later, you’re satisfied with the way it looks.

“Lookin’ good over here, eggs. And the cake isn’t bad, either,” Bucky’s smooth voice whispers in your ear.

A smile tugs at your lips and you roll your eyes, turning to look at him.

“You finished mixing the colours? And is the fondant ready?”

He nods, a proud smile on his face as if he’s just saved the day.

You nod, amused, and press your thumb into the dimple on his chin, “then why aren’t they on my table?”

He scoffs and steps away from you to grab your supplies and you smile triumphantly.

You fall into easy conversation with him and Sandy as the three of you work on your orders, the two of them coming to help you whenever you ask for help.

“Okie dokie, I’m gonna bring this over to Marlene’s and then I’m heading home. You two okay to lock up when you leave?” She asks once the bake shop is closed, wiping her hands on her pants and giving you a grin.

“For sure. I’ve gotta bring this over to Stark Tower for nine, so I’ll be out of here no later than eight. Brought a change of clothes in case this beast took longer than anticipated but, thanks to you two, we’re right on schedule.”

You’re just doing some of the finishing touches and more intricate details.

“I’ll lock up behind you, eggs,” Bucky says casually, wiping his hands on a cloth then tossing it into the laundry bin in the corner of the room.

“Do you have another order to work on?” You ask curiously.

He shakes his head and sits down on the counter across from you, grabbing some of the scrap pieces of cake and popping them into his mouth.

“Nah, just don’t wanna leave you here all by yourself.”

You grin up at your friend then refocus on the cake, switching between tools as you get started on the windows.

“So this is for Tony Stark, huh? You must feel honoured, getting to make a cake for that pompous dick,” he muses, taking another piece of scrap cake.

You only shrug, “I enjoy getting to challenge my creative ability. Besides, I’ve heard he tips handsomely after a few drinks.”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head, “Yeah, he’ll give you a tip all right. Just make sure to use protection.”

You roll your eyes at him, “you worried he’s gonna snag me away from you, Barnes?”

“Maybe I am.”

A giggle falls from your lips and you look over at him, “don’t worry. You’re the only man for me.”

He rolls his eyes right back at you and leans against the cabinets behind his back.

“You going to Nat’s Halloween party this Friday?” He asks, changing the subject.

You shrug, grabbing a piping bag and icing the top of the cake.

“I don’t know. Probably. But that means I’ll have to find a costume and I don’t know what I’d be. Why, are you going?”

He hums, “I’ll go if you go.”

You chuckle at him and shake your head, huffing out a sigh. “You’re ridiculous, Barnes, you know that? But I’ll indulge you. Let’s say we do go to the party. What would you dress up as?”

He shrugs, “easy. I’d go as a priest, and you’d be my sexy nun.”

You have to take a step away from the cake to laugh, shaking your head when he looks at you innocently.

“Bucky Barnes you are ridiculous.”

“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas,” he points out.

You purse your lips and stay quiet.

He does have a point. And going with him wearing matching costumes would be a lot easier than going alone in your own costume.

“So I’ll meet you at your place for eight, then?” He asks, sensing your agreement already.

You huff out a sigh and raise your eyes to his, “fine. But you’d better be paying for the Uber.”

~*~

“You know, I always knew you were talented. But I never expected something like this,” Tony Stark says, eyeing the cake with awe written across his face.

“It takes a lot to impress me, kid. A lot. And I gotta say, you’ve done it. This is... phenomenal. I was expecting something half the size with half the effort put in. But it looks like you’ve got everything right, from the floors to the helipad. And-” he cuts himself off, looking at the cake closer then laughing.

“Is that me in my office?” He asks, pointing to one of the top floors.

You nod, a grin on your face.

“I thought it would be a nice touch. Not many men get to say that they can eat themselves.”

He shakes his head and laughs again, standing up and reaching into his jacket pocket.

He produces a cheque, and also hands you a stack of cash.

“Here. This should cover the cake, and this is for the effort you put in. You could’ve half-assed this and still made your cut, but you really tried with this. Thank you.”

You take the cheque and try to refuse the cash, but he only rolls his eyes at you.

“I could have this sent directly to your bank account in five minutes. Save me the effort and take the cash.”

You smile at him and take the money with a shake of your head.

“Mr. Stark this... it’s too much. Honestly, I’m honoured you trusted me with this project. I loved doing it.”

“Come have a glass of champagne. Join the party for a bit and maybe I’ll have you do all the cakes for my events. And, if you stay long enough, I might give you a reason to keep doing cakes for me.” He gives you a wink and offers you a champagne flute.

You weigh your options carefully, mind flickering to Bucky’s warning. But this is such a huge opportunity. Tony Stark is known for his extravagant parties, and he only ever hires the most talented caterers, decorators, and cooks. If you were the one to do all of his cakes, your client base would expand tenfold.

“I suppose a glass or two won’t hurt,” you say softly, accepting the glass from him and following him into the common room while the caterers roll the cake in behind you.

~*~

“So how was the party? You were out quite late, and got some very good pictures for your Instagram,” Bucky says while plopping down on your bed.

You roll your eyes at him and adjust your hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror.

“It was fine. We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

He shrugs, scrolling through his phone as you get ready for Natasha’s Halloween party.

“Are you sure we should do this, Buck? I feel ridiculous,” you murmur, looking at yourself in the mirror.

You’re wearing a black dress with slits in either leg that come up to your hips, fishnet stockings, and thigh-high black boots as well.

Your makeup is dark and heavy, and you’re wearing a traditional nun’s veil to top the outfit off.

“Come out here, lemme see.” He sounds like a five-year-old, but you venture out of the bathroom anyway.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you whisper, rolling your eyes and holding your hands in front of your heart in a prayer position.

He stares at you in silence for a long while, looking you up and down with hungry eyes.

“Buck?” You ask softly, taking a step toward the bed.

He clears his throat and brings his eyes up to yours.

“You look fuckin’ amazing, eggs. I’m gonna be swatting guys off of you left and right.”

You shake your head at him and reach out, waiting for him to take your hand.

“C’mon, let’s go, Father Barnes.”

He chuckles and grabs your hand, rising from the bed and moving his hand to rest on your lower back.

“That’s daddy to you, sweetheart,” he teases, though his eyes blaze with lust.

You swallow hard and look away, unable to maintain eye contact when he's looking at you with those flaming blue eyes.

The two of you arrive at Nat’s Halloween party a little late. Everyone there is already at least three shots deep, and the music is blaring.

“C’mon, let’s go grab a drink,” Bucky says, his lips against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

A shiver races down your spine and you nod, following him through the crowd to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Bucky! (Y/n)! You guys look so hot!” Wanda exclaims when she sees you.

She rushes to you and pulls the two of you into a tight hug.

“So do you!” You exclaim, looking at her outfit.

She’s dressed as a witch, with a tiny little broom and a hat to match.

“Thank you! I made Jello shots! Come here!”

You and Bucky follow her to the fridge and accept a shot each.

The Jello makes the shot go down easy, and you hum, satisfied.

“One more for each of us?” Bucky asks, smiling when Wanda grabs three more shots.

The second shot goes down just as easily as the first, and then Wanda is pushing a third shot towards you.

“Last one then we can mingle! I promise!”

You give her a look but take the shot, needing to unwind anyway.

Unwinding quickly turns into something much messier, and before you know it, you’re stumbling into your apartment with Bucky’s hands on your hips and his mouth locked on yours.

~*~

When you wake up the next morning, your head is pounding and your mouth is dry.

Blinking harshly in an attempt at clearing the sleep from your eyes, you push yourself onto your forearms and let out a heavy yawn - only to snap your mouth closed when the events of last night come rushing back to you.

You swivel your head around, searching for the Bucky in the darkness of your room as a pleasant ache between your thighs makes itself known.

The big beefy brunet is nowhere to be found.

A frown spreads across your lips and you slowly rise to your feet, wincing at the ache between your thighs that flares with every step you take.

“Buck?” You call, slipping on your bathrobe then opening the door to your room.

“Buck?”

Nothing.

He’s gone. Not so much as a text, a note, nothing.

It’s like he was never there in the first place.

You collapse onto the couch with a groan, shoving your face into your hands as your last interactions with the man play on repeat in your head.

His head between your legs, your thighs spread wide around his midsection, his lips on your lips.

And now there isn’t even a note saying where he went.

You debate texting him, asking if he’s okay. If he’s having regrets.

But what good would that do? If he wanted to text you he would’ve. If he wanted to explain his sudden departure, he would’ve.

This is Bucky, the Bucky you’ve known for years. The man who became your best friend, who knows you better than you know yourself.

The man who slept with you, then left without a word.

You wrap your arms around yourself as insecurity creeps up.

What if you were bad in bed? What if you made him uncomfortable? What if what if what if what if what if?

What if you had never gone to Nat’s stupid Halloween party and never worn that stupid nun costume and never ruined your relationship with the most important person in your life?

All the what-if’s in the world can’t take back what’s already happened.

Instead of dwelling, you head to the bathroom to become a functioning member of society once more.

Maybe he’s still sleeping, you try to rationalize.

He’ll surely text you later, he wouldn’t just get up and leave you like that.

Hours later, you realize he very much would just get up and leave you like that.

Leave you feeling dirty, cheap, used.

All those years of friendship down the drain like that. Done over one night -albeit an amazing one- that you can only partially remember.

Those are the thoughts that have anxiety eating at your stomach as you walk into work the following day.

That anxiety disappears, however, when you walk in only to find that he’s not there.

“No Bucky today?” You ask, trying your best to be nonchalant as you get ready for your shift.

“No, funny enough. Called in. First time this year!”

The anxiety you were feeling quickly turns into despair.

He’s avoiding you now.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shove those thoughts aside and plaster a smile onto your face.

~*~

Your shifts don’t line up for over a month after that. Whether that’s by chance or someone’s careful planning, you’re not sure. All you know is that you miss your best friend, and you’re not sure how much longer you can work there knowing things will never be the same.

Sandy isn’t oblivious to the changes, but she knows better than to pry.

Finally, you decide that enough is enough, and head toward the bakery on your day off.

Paper held tightly in your hand, your mouth goes dry when you head inside and see none other than Bucky Barnes.

His eyes find yours and you see them widen for a quick moment, but you don’t allow him to speak.

“Where’s Sandy?” You specifically chose today because she was supposed to be the only one working.

“Daycare was closed today,” is all he says.

The air between the two of you gets thick with tension until you finally clear your throat and shove the paper toward him.

“Can you give this to her? I won’t see her ‘till Saturday and I want her to get this asap.”

He furrows his brows and takes it, eyes scanning over the words.

“What is this?”

You bite your lip and shrug, dropping your gaze.

“It’s my notice.”

He’s silent for one beat, then another, and then- “your what?”

You huff out a sigh. This is exactly why you wanted to give it to Sandy directly.

“You know what? It’s fine. I’ll just give it to her next time I see her.” You reach for it back only for him to hold it up high out of your reach.

“Where are you going?” He asks quietly.

“Stark... he has connections. Told me that he could get me set up closer to my place so I don’t have to bus as far... because my car’s still messed and I can’t afford to take it to a mechanic yet.”

Bucky says nothing, only stares at you blankly for a long while.

Finally, you cross your arms and take a step back.

“Can you just give that to Sandy for me? Please?”

Without letting him refuse your request, you turn and head out the front door and start your trudge through the snow.

The next day, Sandy is calling you in tears and you can’t help the guilt eating at you.

So you tell her everything, from the Halloween party to Bucky calling in sick to Tony Stark’s offer.

Though reluctant to accept your notice, she understands your reasoning just like you knew she would.

The weeks leading up to Christmas are some of the most depressing of your life.

Usually, you and Bucky would decorate your apartment, go skating, take photos with Santa, and do other fun festive activities. But this year all you do is sit cooped up in your home watching Hallmark movies.

Your wallowing on Christmas Eve gets cut short, however, by a firm fist banging on your door.

Heart in your throat, you contemplate calling the police until you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

Now your heart is racing for a completely different reason.

Slowly, you open the front door, only to be met with a distraught-looking Bucky.

His eyes are bloodshot and tired, his shoulders are tense, and his hair has a thick layer of snow covering it.

You say nothing, only step aside and let him in.

No words are spoken between the two of you as you give him a change of clothes from the stash you’ve accumulated over the years.

While he gets changed, you make some hot chocolate, offering him a mug of it when he emerges from you room.

His fingers dust over yours as he takes the mug from you, and then the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, sharing one of your many throw blankets.

The silence hangs heavily in the room for a long moment before he finally, finally speaks.

“You’re not leaving.”

You blink at him, “I handed in my notice, Barnes. I don’t know why it even matters to you. S’not like you’ve really paid any attention to what I’ve been going through over the past two months anyway.” The words are murmured into your own mug, but he hears them as if you shouted them.

“What are you even talking about?”

You scoff, flabbergasted.

“You just left me with no explanation, and you haven’t made any attempt to talk to me.”

“I had to work!” He exclaims, though he knows you’re not really in the wrong here.

“You could’ve left a note or texted or something,” you offer. That’s what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

“You could’ve called.”

“The phone works both ways, James.”

This shuts him up. Because it does.

At the end of the day, he was the one who left, he was the one who started avoiding you, and now he’s the one who lost you.

It’s been eating him alive since the first week of no contact, but he didn’t know what to do.

“It... was a mistake,” he finally says.

Your shoulders deflate and you look down. Of all the ways you pictured this conversation happening, this wasn’t one of them.

“I shoulda just called in, spent the morning with you, let you wake up in my arms... made you breakfast or something. I never... I just... I guess I thought my feelings were... obvious. I thought you knew how I felt about you and that we’d talk after work.”

Your gaze snaps back up to his face, but he’s focused on the mug in his hands.

“You’ve been my best friend for... too long, at this point. Feel like s’only natural that... well... ya’know?”

You don’t, though. You don’t know and your silence must display that because he lets out a weak chuckle and looks over at you.

“I’ve loved you for some time now, Eggs. Kills me that you never knew... that now m’too late. I’ve ruined what coulda been... the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Huffing out a sigh, he digs in his pocket and finally produces a wad of cash.

“Here, this is for you. For your car.”

You frown and stare at the money for a long moment then shake your head and push his hand away.

“You can’t just tell me you love me then offer me money, Buck. Can you let me process this first? I mean, for the past few months I’ve been thinking that I’m so horrible in bed that it ruined one of the only good relationships I’ve ever had, only to find out that... that you love me.”

The words taste foreign on your tongue, but the way he looks at you when you say them is enough to settle any doubt.

He loves you. Probably always has.

And he’s here, in your apartment, confessing all the ways he’s fucked up.

“I’ve already accepted Stark’s offer,” You whisper after a moment.

His shoulders fall forward heavily at your words.

“That being said, I could use a ride to work until my car is fixed.”

His eyes snap up to yours, shock clear on his face.

“W-what?”

You give him a small grin and nudge his shoulder gently.

“I love you too, idiot. More than I should, more than I care to explain. You’re my best friend and my biggest blessing. We’re both dense morons, but now at least we can do that together.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james x reader #baker!bucky x reader #baker!bucky x baker!reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky/you #bucky/reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader au

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insomniumstella · 2 years ago

Text

spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts.

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven.

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around.

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil.

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh.

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.”

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.”

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago.

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole.

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose.

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?”

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her.

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days.

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi.

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.”

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?”

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front.

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.”

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee.

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.”

“How undercooked?”

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.”

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact.

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.”

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.”

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.”

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile.

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?”

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them."

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.”

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer.

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters:

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on.

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”.

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides.

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you.

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side.

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ‘doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.”

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises.

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.”

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding.

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?”

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness.

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.”

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time.

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves.

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.”

“Who’s Samuel?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?”

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.”

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”

“People do say opposites attract.”

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.”

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him.

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones.

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.”

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.”

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early."

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x baker reader #bucky x baker!reader #insomniumstella #bucky x reader spice & honey

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heckcareoxytwit · 1 year ago

Text

How Spider-Man, Black Cat and those Spidey supervillains (Doctor Octopus, Mysterio and Sandman) deal with the adorable kitties.

Marvel Meow #1, 2024

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bluehourbucky · 2 years ago

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not a want but a need

pairing: Baker!Bucky x f!reader

summary: you have a healthy obsession with buckys arms and hands / plan to tease bucky backfires <3

a/n: just really thought about how huge baker buckys arms must be 😩😤

-gonna go to horny jail 😩

warnings: sexual content/ fingering /choking /tiny bit of period sex mentioned/ mirror fun/ edging / orgasm denial /

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

18+ only !!!!!!!!

please be kind I've never written smut before 🫠

/ masterlist / bucky /

_________________________________________

it's not often that you come see bucky at work mostly because the bakery is extremely busy and because you don't want to do something unsanitary.

when you first met bucky the first thing you noticed his huge arms, like you knew they were strong especially because he works with dough.

you've been caught staring at them multiple times which made you blush that was before you and bucky started officially dating. you were embarrassed how much you wanted to touch his bicep. not only that but the dirty thoughts have consumed you any time you stared at his arms or hands for longer than a second.

it really wasn't your fault bucky wore extra small shirts which made his arms look incredible.

oh and when he pulls up his sleeves you're a goner. even now after a year of dating you can not help yourself and thirst over his very very strong and beefy arms.

you love to hug his arm when you're sitting on the couch with his hand nestled between your thighs it's your second favorite place for his hand - the first one is well deep inside you.

bucky didn't understand it at first and was mostly just calling you out on it but now he's a menace and teases you any chance he gets.

he especially enjoys looking at you while he's making pasta from scratch when he's rolling the dough. you don't want to give in every time but you do.

bucky has been impossible for the past few days, you're on your period and he's been the worst tease ever and your hormones are not helping. today's the last day of your period and you're no longer feeling bloated or bleeding much.

so you came to his work to give him a taste of his own medicine - or at least that was the plan.....

"hi, steve! is bucky here?"

"yeah he's in the back want me to get him for you or?"

"nope i'll just go there."

and you do. and damn was it a good sight for sore eyes.

bucky is rolling the dough you don't know what he's making but there's this big lump of dough that he's massaging pushing around and the sweat is dripping down his temple. the way he just pushes the dough around makes you want to moan out loud.

his hair is put in a bun and his apron is full of flour but he's looking more delicious than any other thing in the bakery.

"oh hey cupcake. didn't see you there, when did you arrive?"

he looks at you and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform.

"hey uh just now." you're trying so hard to be chill but all the heat rushes over you when he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"you alright? did something happen?"

of course he asks that, you don't usually come here so of course he'd think something was wrong.

"oh I'm okay just wanted to see you."

it's not a lie. You did want to see him and make him suffer like he's been making you suffer. the whole idea was to come for a bit in his favorite dress do a twirl few light touches and leave.

but the whole plan went out of the window as soon as you saw him.

the only thing you want right now is his fingers inside you and a hand wrapped around your throat.

bucky checks out your outfit and smirks when he sees you clenching your thighs together.

"lemme' finish this to let it rest and i'll be with you in a minute."

you only have the strength to nod and watch as your boyfriend manages to tease you with a lump of dough.

and when bucky slaps the dough one last time for good measure, you think how you'd like to be on the receiving end.

"okay come with me." he doesn't touch you because there's flour all over him so you just follow like a lost puppy.

"open this please." he points at the door of the locker room and you do it he walks in first and tells you to close the door behind you but not to lock them.

the room is long and narrow on one side there's a long bench and on the other a row lockers and between some of them a mirror and a sink on the same side where the bench is.

bucky takes off his apron, then washes his hands, and you just stand there at a loss of words. your plan really backfired huh.

"tell me what you doin' here doll."

he comes and stands in front of you lifting your chin for you to look at him.

"not that I'm not happy to see you but this dress is a bit too much for a bakery visit? is it not?"

oh fuck.

you're in trouble.

he picks up the hem of the dress not enough to show your ass but still high enough.

"uh its nice outside and I just wanted to take a walk and this is a nice summer dress."

bucky laughs at your attempt to make this not what it is.

"sure is a nice dress."

he finally kisses you, the kiss is gentle and short much to your dismay. and when he pulls away you whine.

bucky lifts a brow at you.

"you sure you just came to see me in this dress for no reason at all?"

"yes i'm sure."

"come here." it takes you approximately a second to obey him. he's sitting on the bench right across the mirror.

he sits you down on his lap so you're both facing the mirror, he also spreads your legs as much as he can. buckys head is on your shoulder his hands still on your bare thighs.

"just came to see me huh?"

he's mocking you but you couldn't care less you just want him to do something.

"please bucky."

he chuckles and you feel the vibrations from his laugh not only that but you can feel his buldge digging into your ass.

you gasp as his cold hands find their way to your breasts. his fingers playing and squeezing your nipple and then he stops.

"don't move be good." you go still and he continues you'd rather have him touch you somewhere else but you need to be patient.

"baby is it okay if I touch you? how is your period? today's your last day if i counted well?"

ever the gentleman, he knows you're not big on period sex it's mostly because you don't like the mess, it's not like you never had it it really depends on the period.

"i'm good. its mostly gone. please touch me."

bucky wanted to rip the panties off but you told him not to do it anymore because apparently he ripped half of your collection.

you stand up and let bucky take them off before sitting down on his lap again.

"just a walk you say... why are your panties soaked darling. did you see something on that walk of yours that you liked." you whine and moan at bucky who is inspecting your very much soaked panties.

"what am I gonna do with you."

buckys hands find their way between your thighs and he's purposely avoiding the place you want him to touch the most.

he lifts the skirt of your dress and looks into your eyes through the mirror.

"you look so pretty like this gonna have to get one for our bedroom, have them mirrors everywhere." you nodd and just want him to fuck you.

finally he slides one finger in and it fills you more than three of your fingers together. he quickly adds another one and you're feeling both like in hell and you're being tortured but also in heaven.

he sits there and his fingers are not moving.

"pleasepleaseplease" you cry out you're so sensitive and needy and you can't belive he's doing this to you.

bucky finally has mercy and starts to move his fingers, the only sound that can be heard are your breaths and his fingers coming in and out of you.

the pace is torture it's slow and deep and he's right next to your g spot and he just won't touch it.

"sound so pretty princess. and look at you just the prettiest doll I've ever seen."

bucky finally adds the third finger, and you're a goner he picks up the movement and touches your spot every single stroak, his other hand, is on your throat, squeezing it.

oh, how you love when he does this.

"bucky bucky I'm close. I'm so close please!"

you manage to choke out when buckys hand squeezes you a bit harder than before.

buckys thumb starts to make circles on your clit and he feels you squeezing his fingers he knows you're close.

"I'm gonna- AHHH! bucky what the fuck."

he completely stops everything, his fingers are out of your pussy his hand no longer around your throat.

you're speechless.

"Doll it's really cute you wanted to take revenge on me but I gotta teach you to be a good girl. can't have you getting ideas."

"but you! I- I didn't do anything!"

"I'll go to see him at work in his favorite dress so he can't resist me and then ill just leave him hanging all day. see how he likes that."

your mouth makes an O and you blush.

"baby you sent that message to me. I'm sure it was meant for natasha but guess you have to check who you be sending these kind of messages to?"

bucky knew you were coming, you had accidentally texted him the message that was meant for nat.

you get up and search for your phone and unlock it and quickly getting to your chat with nat.

you: gonna get him so good nat!!

nat: who ???? what happened??? do I need to kill someone???

shit that's the last message you sent before coming in here you don't even know how you didn't notice the previous message never got to her.

"why didn't you tell me."

"wasn't this more fun?"

"no." you stomp your foot.

you stand in shock when he licks his fingers clean.

"taste so good might have to put you on the menu."

"you're such an-"

"amazing boyfriend whom you love very much?"

bucky finishes your sentence and comes up to you to kiss you, you can still taste yourself and try to deepen the kiss but bucky pulls away.

"don't give me that look doll. I have to go back to work."

you're looking at him giving him your best puppy eyes, at this point you're close to falling on your knees to beg him to just fuck you.

"I'll keep these by the way will give them back tonight."

"bucky no." you look at the panties he stuffed in his back pocket.

"bucky yes."

before he goes back to work, he grabs you from behind and wrapps his hand around your throat and whispers

"don't touch yourself before I get home or you won't get to cum for a week."

then he slaps your ass twice.

"you had some flour there can't have you walking with a dirty dress."

and he walks out.

your phone starts ringing.

nat <3 is calling

"hey are you okay? who are you gonna get? did something happen."

"im okay ill tell you but i'm okay."

"don't scare me like that!."

you apologise and hang up.

how are you supposed to walk home you don't know, your legs are still shaking.

"you okay? need some sugar?" steve offers a doughnut and you just nod.

doing the walk of of shame you shakely leave the bakery maybe this wasn't such a good idea but you're excited for tonight.

[the end]

extra:

"buck is your girl okay? she looked a bit pale and unwell as she was leaving?"

"she's okay just missing some vitamin D luckly it's sunny out so she can catch that before the night comes."

"okay...."

___________________________________________

I'm sorry about the pun udhdhdhd 😭🤡 sue me but I think it's funny

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky smut #beefy!bucky #baker!bucky #bucky masterlist #sebastian stan characters #marvel fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky fluff #dom!bucky

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mrs-bucky-barnes106 · 2 years ago

Text

☆｡.:*･ﾟ Sweet Nothings ｡.:*･ﾟ☆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x baker!reader

warning: fluff, multiple mentions of cake, mentions of Bucky with children

a/n: Ahhh I had this idea before going to bed and literally stayed up two hours working on it. I finished it this morning, and I've gotta stay I'm proud of my commitment because I usually take at least a month to finish a fanfiction. Hopefully, there's more where this came from. P.S. I'm not a baker, so I'm sorry if I fudged any details. Feedback is always appreciated but please be kind. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated but no reposting without credit <3

word count: 1.6k

summary: Reader is a baker and Bucky gets a cake from her to take to Sam's picnic party on the docks (scene from tfatws).

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

The bell jingled as Bucky entered Sweet Nothings, the bakery you had started from the ground up. He was instantly enveloped by the sweet scent of baked goods from the array of desserts neatly displayed in the glass case by the counter. Underneath the sugar, he smelled the new chai latte you had just added to the menu. It had been an instant hit, totally trumping the one at Starbucks that everyone raved about. Chai had been a nostalgic drink for you and a completely new one for Bucky. He now had an affinity for it, however, and asked for it every time he entered the shop after you made him the first honorary taste tester of the drink. Now, the shop was bustling since it was happy hour.

Soft music played in the background. Bucky recognized the voice of Taylor Swift, one of your favorite artists. She was one of Bucky's favorites now too. You had impeccable taste, and any song you loved became his favorite. The album that was currently playing was Midnights, the one you had told Bucky he was most like. He loved that about you, how you would associate things like albums and songs with him. It made his heart swell, knowing you thought about him in relation to music, which had a special place in your heart.

You were nowhere in sight, so he assumed you were in the back checking on your bread dough. Bucky approached the barrier that led to the backroom for employees and pushed the door open, hoping to surprise you while you were working. Once he entered, he found you bent over your proving drawer, checking on a fluffy batch of bread dough. He tiptoed up to you and grabbed your waist, lifting you off your feet and causing you to let out a yelp of surprise. Bucky spun you around, chuckling at your reaction (what did he expect when he literally attacked you with a bear hug from behind?).

Finally, he set you down on your feet and spun you around to face him. His eyes were crinkled with laugh lines as he took in your disheveled form. Your hair was in a low messy bun with a few strands astray in the front. You donned a cream-colored beret and a blue long-sleeve over which you had on your cheeky apron that read "Kiss the Cook." It was, of course, gifted to you by none other than your doting boyfriend. A light dusting of flour over your entire being gave you an angelic glow. In Bucky's eyes, you looked more heavenly than all of the desserts in your shop combined.

You blew your hair out of your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest before attempting to glare at Bucky. You didn't last long, however, as his sheepish grin caused you to look down, so he wouldn’t catch you smiling.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” you admonished him half-heartedly. “Bakers can be dangerous when startled, you know.”

“Sure, doll,” Bucky still had on that cheeky grin. “I don’t know about dangerous, though. Former assassin here, remember?” He pointed at himself with his index fingers as if you didn't already know. "I think I can handle a blow from a rolling pin." He picked up the nearest tool his hand landed on, which, unfortunately for him, was a basting brush, making his joke fall flat. He sheepishly put the brush away as you tried not to laugh.

You gave him a warning look before turning your back to him and smiling wide. You may pretend to be annoyed by his antics, but they truly brought joy to your heart and brightened up your bland days. You loved your job, but you loved your man most of all.

“I’ve got the cake ready for Sam’s. Just gotta put the finishing touches on it. Did you bring the Oreos, baby boy?”

You turned around to find his face in yours. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve found it incredibly infuriating. But with Bucky, it left you blushing to your core.

He wrapped his arms around you and held up the blue plastic box. “Right here, sweetheart.”

It was a generic nickname that every single boyfriend in the history of the world had called his girlfriend at some point. But somehow, it was almost erotic coming from his plush pink lips with that deep timbre. You sometimes wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on you.

“Thank you,” was all you trusted yourself to say as you took the box of cookies from him and started peeling off the plastic cover. You moved away from him and carefully placed six cookies on the cake, one on each of the iced rosettes on the border.

“Alright, Buck, I think it’s ready for the party. Lemme just get a box for it, and we’ll be on our way.”

Bucky smiled as he watched you tenderly place the plastic casing on the cake as if it was your baby. In a way, it was, along with all of your other creations.

“Alrighty then, doll,” Bucky grabbed the cake in his gloved flesh hand, then put his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your temple. “Thank you so much for making this, baby cakes.”

You turned pink hearing him use your favorite nickname of all time. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you mumbled bashfully, suddenly shy again in the crook of his arm.

“It’s a Sweet Nothing, which means it’s the opposite of nothing. Doll, this cake is quite literally everything to me.”

“Buckyyy,” you playfully swatted him away. Sure, you were proud of your work, but you still got flustered when people complimented you, especially your boyfriend, who took every chance to make you feel like you were the biggest star in his world.

You eased yourself out of his embrace momentarily to hunt down your assistant. “Lemme just tell Nico to take over the closing shift tonight.”

Bucky nodded and waited patiently by the door for you to rejoin him. You returned and looped your arm around his waist to steer him out of your shop.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky drove the both of you from the bakery to the docks in his pickup. You held the cake securely in your lap with your right hand and entwined your left with Bucky's. When you arrived, you let go of his hand and moved to open the door, but Bucky reached over you to close it again. Then he climbed out of the truck and rushed to open your door.

"M'lady," you rolled your eyes at him but couldn't help smiling as he took the cake from you so you could climb out of the car. He shut your door behind you, then took off with the cake balanced precariously in his flesh hand.

"Bucky! Be careful!" Your cries were drowned out by Sam's nephews, who were happily trailing Bucky at the sight of the cake. They tried play-fighting with him, pretending to punch him in the face, to which Bucky pretended to stagger backward from the force of impact.

You sighed and let the corners of your mouth lift as you watched your lover boy, totally enamored by his way with children.

Bucky ran to the nearest picnic table and finally placed the cake down safely. You let out a breath of relief you didn't realize you had been holding in and walked over to him.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky returned to entertaining the kids a little while after everyone had eaten. He stood atop a picnic table, talking to you and Sarah with his metal arm extended out. Sam's nephew and his friend hung off of Bucky's arm. You were trying your hardest to concentrate on what he told you about his days in the Navy, but you couldn't help giggling softly at the sight of him effortlessly holding up two children using only one of his arms.

When you could finally steal a moment alone with him, you handed him a beer and tugged his arm to lead him to the pier's edge. You plopped down and let your feet dangle, the bottoms of your boots grazing the water's surface. After a moment, Bucky crouched down to join you. He scooted closer so his thigh was pressed up against yours. He put his arm around you, and you sighed softly, leaning into his shoulder and staring at the setting sun. Nose pressed against Bucky's shoulder, you inhaled, reveling in the warm scent of freshly-cut pine and the sweet undertones of amber and musky vanilla.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulder, suddenly needing to be closer to him than you already were. He seemed to understand and gently twisted to the side, snaking one arm around your lower back and using the other to bring your legs into his lap. You moved in to kiss him tenderly. Your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your hips, and everything felt perfect at that moment. You could still taste the Oreo cake on his breath, and you broke away from the kiss slowly, smiling all the while. Bucky returned your smile warmly as you turned to look at the sunset.

Bucky watched it paint your face the most gorgeous shade of pink and thanked his lucky stars at that moment. Somehow, life had brought you to him. He had never thought of himself as fortunate, but he was ecstatic now that you were in his arms, and he damn sure was never going to let go of this beautiful thing he had with you. He pressed his lips to your forehead and tightened his hold on you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

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callalillywrites · 4 months ago

Text

Callalilly's Masterlist

Home to all fics written for my various fandoms. Listed by character and by AU series and will be updated regularly.

Follow my side blog for fic-only updates: @callasficlibrary.

See my WIP List for upcoming works. See Fic Schedule for upcoming fics.

Recently Posted Works

In Need of a Distraction - fluff; platonic turned romantic; missing someone (Mary)

I Smell Snow - platonic; fluff; inspired by Lorelei Gilmore from Gilmore Girls; deep caring between Stucky and Reader

Your Eyes Brought It All Back - Amnesiac!Steve x Coma!Reader; post-injury; fluff/comfort

Midterm Inspiration - Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x Reader - College AU, Art Class; fluff

Full Moon Festival - Werewolf!Curtis x Witch!Reader - established relationship; first festival prep; domestic fluff

Two Soldiers at Your Service - Stucky x Reader - fluff; some pining on all sides; some heavy memories on Reader's part

Characters

Steve Rogers (MCU)

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes (MCU)

Bucky Barnes (MCU)

Sam Wilson (MCU)

Jake Jensen (Losers)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

Ari Levinson (Red Sea Diving Resort)

Colin Shea (What's Your Number)

Dennis Baker (Jimmy Kimmel Skit)

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)

Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Ryan Wolfe (CSI: Miami)

Crossover/Multi-Character Series

It Takes All Packs to Make It Work

Omegaverse; mostly Chris Evans characters but world is expanding

Station #107

Firefighter AU feat. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes with more possible pairings in the future

Avenger-Style Domesticity

MCU with Domestic Twist feat. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes with more possible pairings in the future

The HC Steakhouse

Restaurant AU; mix of MCU characters and CEvans characters

Cool Rider Hair Salon and Barber Shop

Hair Salon/Barber Shop AU; Grease/Grease 2 themed AU; mix of CEvans characters and others

OC-led AUs/Series

Something Witchy in the BAU

Criminal Minds/Charmed crossover AU

The GODDESS Project

MCU Rewrite/Soulmates AU

Cupid's Arrow

Mafia AU; Chris Evans Characters/Top Gun: Maverick Crossover AU; a few other MCU characters mixed in

Bingos and Events

Fluff Bingo (hosted by Flufftober)

Steve Rogers Bingo

Stucky Bingo

Bucky Boy Bingo

#callas masterlist #callas stories #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #jake jensen #curtis everett #ransom drysdale #frank adler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #ryan wolfe #sam wilson #ari levinson #colin shea #dennis baker

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Text

Ladies and Gentlemen

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Bucky reflects on you and your date the morning after. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Tension, flirting, brief moments of insecurity, implied sexy times, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. Previous Part of AU: Technically Innocent and Sinful, but posted part is Sundresses and Leather A/N: A bit more Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU and you voted to go to his place! ❤️ I realize that I've skipped over Innocent and Sinful for now, but I really wanted to showcase Bucky and his feelings regarding the date and you. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky hummed to himself as he made breakfast, doing his best to move quietly around the kitchen. He normally only hummed along to the radio in his car, which you discovered during your date the night before, but he couldn’t help himself today. He was happy. He had a spring in his step he hadn’t realized was missing.

Turns out, the thing he was missing was you.

“So. My place or yours?”

Tiptoeing back to his bedroom, Bucky saw you asleep peacefully in his bed. It was a sight he could get used to. Your gentle breathing and serene expression brought a small smile to his face as he leaned against the doorframe. When he woke up earlier with you in his arms he feared for a moment that he was dreaming again, like he had in his shop. But when he placed a kiss on your forehead and received a sleepy moan in response, he knew it was real.

So was the night before.

Bucky held back a groan as some of the images of the two of you together replayed in his mind, his eyes closing and only serving to enhance what he was already thinking about. He wanted to be a gentleman to you. He tried. After your last prick of a boyfriend, you sure as hell deserved that. Which was one of the reasons he was making you breakfast, as tempted as he was to climb back in bed and wake you.

Told you I’d take care of you, Sugar.

You opened up to and for him so beautifully. You were nothing short of an angel. His angel. His Sugar. It was crazy to think like that after one date, but there was something there and that was before he took you out. And you already planned what the next two dates would be, which he was looking forward to.

Even if our first date didn’t go as planned.

It turned out for the best. Even better than he could’ve imagined. He refrained from leaving a negative review online at that restaurant for mixing up his reservation, which was a blessing in disguise. The place was far from his style, but he saw it as a chance to impress you when his other plans fell through. He should’ve known better and gone with his instinct to take you to a place like Antonia’s from the start.

The smile slipped from his face as he remembered you talking about your mom, his fists lightly clenching. If he ever had the chance to meet her, he’d have a hard time staying silent about how she treated you. As if you sensed the sudden tension rise within him, you shifted closer to his side of the bed and rubbed the spot with your hand. The sight soothed him. For you to tell him something so vulnerable, to trust him, gave him a glimpse of how strong you truly were. Because it took strength to open up and stay kind when others tried to knock you down.

I’ll catch you.

Silently dashing back to the kitchen so he didn’t burn anything on the stove, he pushed the thought of your mom out of his mind as he finished up. He wasn’t going to focus on the negatives today. Not when he had you at his place. Maybe he could convince you to stick around for a bit after breakfast if you didn’t have plans.

Before he had a chance to wake you, someone knocked three times on the front door.

Steve.

He wondered if the noise woke you as he glanced down the hall, but he didn’t hear any movement as he headed toward the door and yanked it open before Steve could knock again. Sure enough, his best friend had his fist closed and ready. “Not dressed?” he asked as he lowered his arm.

With a shrug, Bucky glanced down at himself. “I’m wearing sweatpants,” he said, which he only put on to cook for you. “What are you doing here? It’s my day off.”

“Is that how you greet your best friend, jerk? After I came all the way over here?” He asked, looking back and forth as he pushed his way inside. “You weren’t answering your phone and you usually don’t sleep this late.”

“Come on in, punk. And don’t act like you drove across town to see me. We live in the same building,” Bucky said sarcastically as he shut the door. “So because I didn’t answer my phone on my day off, you decided to come over? Really? You’re spying, which you’re terrible at because you’re a terrible liar.”

The blonde pushed his hair back as his gaze swept the apartment. “I’m not spying, but come on. You have to tell me something. Jake and Hal won’t shut up in the group chat. Even Andy asked about your date and you’ve ignored everyone,” he argued, following Bucky to the kitchen.

Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to feel annoyed at Steve showing up or at the rest of the guys for wanting to know how the night went. They looked out for and supported each other. The fact that they all liked you made them root for the two of you more. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you guys,” he said, not saying he didn’t answer anyone since he was preoccupied with you.

“So, how did it go?” Steve asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Perfect because it was with Sugar.

“Minus getting rained on and the restaurant screwing up the reservation, just fine,” he said, giving a quick rundown of some of the details. He left out the heart-to-heart conversation in your bakery. Steve was his best friend, but that wasn’t any of his business.

“It didn’t go the way you wanted to, but it was ‘just fine’? Judging by that smile on your face, I take it the date went well,” Steve said.

Very well.

Bucky managed not to smirk as he set out two coffee mugs. “A gentleman never tells. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my apartment. My breakfast is getting cold.”

“I know you have an appetite, but this much food?” Steve said, nodding to the two plates. “Considering I showed up unannounced and you already had two plates out, I’m guessing you weren’t planning on feeding me.”

“Mmm. Something smells delicious. Oh! Hi, Steve.”

Bucky sucked in a breath when he turned his head and drank in the sight of you. You had a sleepy expression on your face, which was adorable, but it was the fact that you were wearing one of his shirts that made his heart stop in his chest. You toyed with the hem as you smiled, your gaze on him and not on Steve. He wondered if it would be too much to ask you to wear one of his shirts while you worked in the bakery.

I can have a dress made out of one of my shirts, right?

“Good to see you.” Steve smirked before he looked at his friend. “A gentleman never tells, huh?”

Bucky allowed himself to smirk this time. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Oh, he’s very much a gentleman,” you said as you joined Bucky and slid an arm around his waist. His arm instinctively went around your back, his fingers gently touching you through the fabric. “He’s also a sorcerer. Or maybe a magician. I’m not sure which.”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Bucky. “You’re a what?”

“Well,” you said slowly, biting your lip before you looked at Bucky. “There’s this magical thing he does with his tongue where-”

The blonde held a hand up to stop you. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

Yeah, because my cue of telling you to leave wasn’t enough, Punk. Now go so I can do that thing with my tongue again.

“Told you a gentleman never tells,” Bucky stated, pulling you closer by the waist. It amazed him how perfectly you two fit together. “I never said anything about my girl speaking.”

Your eyes lit up at the small endearment, making his heart race. “Should I tell him about your massive-”

“Text me later!” Steve said, giving you a small smile before he quickly showed himself out.

Bucky chuckled when the door shut. “Don’t let his modest act fool you. He’s far from innocent,” he joked. Steve respected women though.

“I think he was trying to act like a gentleman for my sake,” you teased. “And if Tess knew where you lived, she probably would’ve shown up, too.”

With a chuckle, he nodded in agreement. “How’d you sleep? I would’ve stayed in bed with you, but I wanted to make you breakfast.”

Are you sore? Do I need to take care of you?

“I slept very well, thank you. And breakfast in bed sounds like the perfect way to start the day,” you said, touching his cheek. He could stay wrapped up in bed with you all day if you'd let him. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Best night of sleep I’ve had since I can remember,” he answered honestly, his eyes soft as a full blown smile spread across your face.

You leaned in to brush your lips against his before you stopped yourself, some of the light fading from your eyes. “Sorry. I haven’t brushed my teeth and my breath probably stinks-”

Bucky closed the gap to kiss your lips. He didn’t care if you brushed your teeth or not. “Taste sweet to me, Sugar,” he whispered, taking possession of your mouth again to leave you breathless. He wanted to taste every part of you and sweep away any insecurities or doubts that tried to take over.

You pulled away to take a breath. “Keep kissing me like that and I won’t eat this breakfast you worked so hard on.”

“Did you purposely say ‘hard on’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “And I don’t mind feeding you my-”

You covered his mouth with your hand, giggling. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say.”

He licked his lips when you moved your hand away. “I was going to say I don’t mind feeding you my food,” he told you with a blank expression since he couldn’t feign innocence. “You’re a dirty girl for jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m not a dirty girl. I’m a lady,” you protested, inhaling sharply as he began to back you up against the counter.

“You look good in my shirt. Really good,” he said, his voice gravelly and low as he flexed his fingers on your hips. “Tell me to stop, Sugar. I already wore you out once and you need to eat so you have your strength.”

Because I want to ruin you all over again.

“So I have my strength? You sure I didn’t wear you out, Hottie?” You questioned.

He found himself laughing as you tilted your chin up. Not at you. Never at you. No, it was that happiness creeping back in at how the two of you fell in sync. The banter, the ease. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes and feel what he did.

He’d continue to find ways to show you how special you were.

“How about we agree that we wore each other out? I think that’s what happened.”

You gave him a single nod. “Looking forward to us wearing each other out again.”

Me, too, Sugar. Me, too.

He's a dream, isn't he? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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angrythingstarlight · 2 years ago

Note

Baker!Bucky hitting on Peach, despite her being a sure thing: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRKYtuGK/

- 🏥

Baker!Bucky has a filthy mouth yet he's somehow still shy. He will spout off the most inappropriate, raunchy joke and have the nerve to blush like you're the one who came on to him.

Pairing: Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader with a side of baker!Steve vs Honey.

WC: Less than 900

AN: Written on my phone. Unbeta'd.

↬Sweeter Than Sugar Masterlist

Bucky has been leaning on your shoulder for the better part of an hour now. He’s five drinks in and feeling good. He’s also completely ignoring the rest of the table. Which is too bad.

While he’s staring at you and reverently stroking your hair, he’s missing the way Steve is glaring at Honey.

And the fiercely relentless way she’s glaring right back.

Neither have said a word since they both sat down. You bet Wanda 20 bucks that they’re going to hook up in the bathroom before the night’s over.

“Peach,” Bucky whispers in your ear, his lips brushing over your skin as his words slur together. “You’re so pretty. And soft. And pretty.”

You hum in response, distracted by what's happening between your friends, eyes widening when Steve slams his drink down and stands. Honey pushes her chair back, planting her hands on the table, meeting his gaze with a sneer.

Bucky says your name again. “You wanna know why you’re my favorite donut?” He mumbles, nuzzling your neck, his soft beard grazes your shoulder.

Did he just call you a—”

What?" Tearing your gaze from the silent, intriguing drama unfolding across the other side of the table, you stare at Bucky with blatant amusement.

He gives you a dopey grin, his round cheeks lifting as the corners of his eyes crinkle. So damn pleased hes finally gotten your attention on him.

“Is ‘cause you look so good when you’re all glazed and creamed filled, Peach.” He tops off his audacious statement with a kiss on your shoulder.

“Excuse me?” You choke on air, coughing slightly. You tamp down a laugh, clearing your throat. Heat fans up your chest and you discreetly glance around the table, grateful all the attention is still on Steve and Honey. “Bucky, you can’t say things like that in public. People might hear you.”

He shrugs, his hand slides down your side and grabs your thigh, squeezing once before his fingers slip between them.

“So juicy and sweet,” he groans, his head lolling on your shoulder. “I ever tell ya that love eating you. I can do it for hours. Hours Peach. S’good.”

“Bucky, you also can’t talk about me being juicy and sweet.” You clamp your hand around his wrist, stopping him before he reaches his target.

His disappointed sigh sends another pulse of laughter up your throat, this one spilling out before you can stop it.

“Peach, that’s mine,” he gently reprimands, frowning at your hand. “Ya can’t keep her from me, ya know she needs me.” Bucky lifts his head, a deep flush sweeps up his cheeks as he blinks, his bleary blues focusing on you. A brief moment of clarity slips through his drunken haze. “And why are you talkin’ about her in public?”

“Me? You’re the one who was going on about turning me into a creamed-filled donut?” You tease, tapping his nose with your finger.

“Peach—”

You kiss him, his words tapering off into a content moan, his thumb brushes across your cheek. The sweet cherry whiskey on his tongue drifts across you. You love the way he tastes and you lean into him, greedily deepening the kiss until he's all you can feel.

“Later,” you promise, nipping his bottom lip before pulling back. You look up just in time to see that Steve is walking off. Honey is going after him. You can’t hear what she said, but now she's backing up and Steve is going after her.

Oblivious to everything but you, Bucky slips his free arm around your side.

“Okay,” he grumbles under his breath, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh. You grab his wrist and he lets out a soft, mournful why followed by an even sadder give her back when you push it over to where you have his other hand trapped.

“Later.” You squeeze his wrists, keeping them in place. It's hard to keep the smile off your face when he exhales through his nose, his lips forming a barely there pout. "I mean it."

Bucky goes silent, slumping in his seat. You turn your attention back to Honey, who’s halfway across the room. Steve is a step behind her.

Oh, it’s about to go—your thoughts screech to a grinding halt because Bucky isn't done with you.

Lips graze your ear.

He escapes your grasp.

Thick fingers flex and dig into your thighs.

“Hey, Peach. Peeeeach,” he whispers loudly, shifting closer. "Did–did I tell ya why you're my favorite donut?"

Arching a brow, your eyes cut to him. “Cause I look good when I'm glazed and creamed filled?” You dryly intone with a smirk.

Your mouth drops open in disbelief as your drunk boyfriend gasps and looks around. His blush deepens and spreads across his shocked face until his cheeks are a fiery red. “Peach. Please. You can’t say stuff like that here." His scandalized tone lowers and he leans in with a hopeful grin. “You do though. I'll do that to you. If you want me to. Or I can just eat you. Unless you want me to fill you up and then eat—”

"We should go," you laugh. Giving one last look at Steve storming after his girl, you send a quick text to Wanda to tell you everything.

Bucky continues his hrny yet sweet ramblings. By the time you’ve dragged him out of the bar, he’s described thirty-six different ways he can glaze you, fill you, and eat you.

Each one is more interesting than the last and you’re making mental notes to remember everything he’s saying.

Sober Bucky is going to enjoy all of drunk Bucky’s naughty fantasies.

So will you.

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ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

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Characters!

Here is my card for @avengers-assemble-bingo Kinky Bingo! <---Get your card here. Sign ups are through April and the event runs through September.

Let me know which characters you'd like to see. ;) There is another poll for kinks. Asks are welcome as well. TIA :)

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rogersideup · 2 years ago

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I'm formally requesting a drabble of Sam and Bucky (and maybe all the other avengers) fighting over the spot as favorite uncle or aunt as soon as sunflower pops the baby out. While they fight/ argue Steve and Sunflower just sit in bed and are in awe of their little cinnamon roll 😂🥰

Nice to be Kneaded:

More fun stuff!

Uncle Cinnamon Roll

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1,947

Steve was unsure if the level of happiness bouncing off every surface of his brain was even possible for a human being to experience.

He thought that he had lived a life in which he experienced more than the average person ever would. Explored countries far and wide, met people of this earth and foreign universes alike, traveled through space and time, having taken lives and now creating one.

But right here, in the labor and delivery unit in the middle of Greenwood medical with his sweet Sunflower fast asleep and using his shoulder as a pillow, his leg falling off the side of the small hospital bed you insisted he snuggle you on, and his precious newborn in his arms, he new life couldn't get much better than this.

He would take spit up stained shirts, a numb leg, and his peaceful ladies using him as a sleeping apparatus any day of the week over international travel and superhero ass kicking.

He couldn't recall a time in his life where he had ever been more in love. With you, your mind, your body, heart and soul. Every time he even began to try to comprehend the level of adoration he had for you in this moment, he just started weeping.

The tears of love weren't exclusive to just you anymore, because somehow, even after two whole days of being earth-side, his cheeks still never seemed to dry when he looked down at his perfect little daughter.

Ten fingers, ten toes, and genetically half super, she was already a force to be reckoned with. After almost 36 hours of labor, Sunflower naturally birthed a 9 pound baby girl. The second she was born, cleaned up and swaddled, she was placed right into Steve's arms. Her big blue eyes were wandering around the room, and that's the moment he knew she was gonna be trouble.

The level mischief Steve could already detect in his daughter, he knew she inherited that from him. But other than the color of her eyes and the shape of her lips, she looked just like you, which meant she was absolutely perfect to him.

Though he would do anything for his daughter, he would do anything and more for you. There wasn't quite enough adequate words in the English dictionary to describe his gratitude for you. For 9 whole months you sacrificed your body for the future that you and Steve had always dreamed of, the put yourself through antagonizing pain just to give birth.

So yeah, Steve would take the sleepless nights and poopy diapers just to make sure you were getting the rest you needed and deserved to recover.

You didn't quite anticipate the vulnerability it took to go through the process of labor, birth and recovery. The amount of people that would touch your body, needing help for simple things like going to the bathroom, how weak your body would feel shortly after how powerful you'd felt during birth.

But Steve was a heaven sent Angel. Never leaving your side, he made sure you were taken care of. Constant reminders of how powerful and beautiful you were, and how much he loved you. He would pull your hair back into buns for you when you wanted it out of your face, only to take it down five minutes later when you felt like it was bothering you, just to do it all over again. He guided you through breathing exercises and mind work to manage your pain levels, some he learned from the birthing classes he attended with you, and others were techniques he personally used on battlefields. He'd squeeze your swaying hips to alleviate pain, wipe sweat off your forehead, keep your water bottle cold and filled, and completely ignored all of the very natural processes you felt embarrassed by.

Much like he had never been more in love with you, you had never been more in love with him. Especially as he got you snuggled up and cozy in bed with more than enough reassurance that the baby would be completely fine so you could snuggle up to your warm cuddly husband and get a good Power Nap in.

The first time you watched his fear of his own strength dissipate, the new born's hand wrapped around his fingers and quiet tears fell down his cheeks, or when he did skin to skin with her and she was so teeny tiny on his big and broad chest, you would've let him get you pregnant all over again. He was the gentlest giant, a paradox of fear for many but nothing but gentle love for you.

As you slept, your breathing was even and calm, you snuggled his left arm like it was a teddy bear. His right arm was occupied by the little baby, gentle snores worked past her nose as a nice reminder that she was out cold.

All was calm and peaceful until Steve could hear the competing and fast footsteps of his dumb idiot friends racing down the hallway. The closer they got, the more he cringed internally knowing that both his girls were about to be woken up by the sound of their banter.

"Stop! We agreed on this! I get to go first!"

"No, me first. I'm going to be her favorite uncle."

"Not if I beat you to it"

"As if you stand a chance."

There was rustling, shoving sounds, and what sounded like a body getting punched before it all stopped and there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in!" Steve called out as softly as he could, but unfortunately you had stirred awake already. "Quietly, the girls are sleep-"

"Uncle Bucky is here!" Bucky announced, his voice bouncing off the hospital walls.

"Uncle Sam is here too, but he brought presents for his niece!" He glared at Bucky.

"Uncle Bucky brought flowers for Mama, because obviously we wouldn't even be uncles had it not been for the lovely Sugar Cookie" Bucky glared back.

Steve shook his head with a smile, and your sleepy giggles sounded from right below his ear.

"Bucky, Cap, I'm happy you guys are here!" You let go of Steve's arms and opened them to greet the boys.

They both walked over and gave you some good hugs before doing the same to Steve, congratulating you both and asking how you were doing before their eyes locked on the baby.

They didn't even have to ask for Steve to know what was about to happen.

"Buck, have you ever held a baby before?" Steve questioned, getting up off the bed to hand her off to one of the boys.

He shook his head nervously, before Sam cut in. "Don't worry Steve, seasoned professional here" Sam said, stretching his arms.

"He might be a professional, but I've been saving my first time my entire life just to have the very first baby I held be yours, Pal." Bucky sassed back.

With narrowed eyes, Sam walked over to the sink and started washing his hands. "Well my hands are cleaner, which is safer for Cinnamon Roll."

"I've known Steve longer." Bucky glared. "I can wash my hands too."

"I'm Captain America."

"That's funny, I don't see you featured anywhere in the Smithsonian museum exhibit about Captain America"

"I've known sugar cookie longer." Sam used Bucky's argument.

"I've spent more time with her."

Steve looked over at you, wide eyed unable to choose who held her first. You laughed and shrugged your shoulders.

"Boys" you cut in, both of their heads snapped to look at you.

"You look beautiful, are you sure you had a baby two days ago?" Bucky complemented, playing up the charm.

"Steven Rogers you better watch out because this hot mama is gonna be attracting all the boys."

You looked at Steve's face which was now half smiling but also mixed with a raised eyebrow and a lot of confusion.

"I don't think I've had enough sleep to put up with this." Steve commented.

"Thank you, but what I was trying to tell you is that she loves you both equally, and you'll both have the rest of your lives to spoil her, okay? This isn't a competition." You explained. "Steve and I both love you, cinnamon roll loves you, which is why we're going to settle this with a game of rock paper scissors."

The boys glared at each other, then wordlessly played the game.

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot...

Sam had rock, Bucky had paper.

"Alright Bucky, wash your hands and have a seat and I'll show you ho-" Steve started.

"Best two out of three" Sam argued.

"That was fair and square." You denied with a giggle. "But I love the enthusiasm"

"Damn it!" Sam plopped down on a chair in defeat.

Following instructions, Steve perfectly placed the baby into Bucky's arms. He was a little tense at first, but then relaxed as he felt the soothing effects of a little baby bundle in his arms.

It only lasted for about 15 minutes before she woke up and started crying, you and Steve both responded to the sound as if you were on autopilot.

Sam stood up and cracked his knuckles, stretched out his neck, and held a hand out to halt the new parents. "Seasoned professional, remember?"

Steve still continued his advances towards his daughter to appease her tears, but Sam effortlessly scooped her out of Bucky's arms and started bouncing and rocking her like he had done it a billion times before.

Her sad little cries persisted causing anxiety to rise in Steve's chest.

"She might be hungry" he noted, trying to get Sam to hand her over.

"She's not hungry." Sam denied, placing her on his shoulder, bouncing on the balls of his feet and patting her back.

"Okay then she needs to be changed." Steve argued.

"Nope" Sam denied once more, continuing to pat her back. "I know this cry like the back of my hand, she just needs to bu-"

Then, the loudest burp Steve had ever heard sounded from his tiny daughter like it was nobody's business.

"And there it is" Sam smiled as her cries stopped and her head tucked into his neck with a tiny satisfied smile. "See? Seasoned professional."

Steve deflated and sat next to you on the bed with sunken shoulders.

You sat up and leaned over to squeeze his shoulders and kiss his cheek. It was obvious that he felt defeated by not knowing exactly what she needed at the moment, but he was only two days in. You'd both get it down eventually. "You're a great Dad, honey."

"That was the biggest burp I've ever heard." He noted, melting into your touch. "I've never been more proud."

"She takes after you, Steve" Bucky laughed. "But she definitely only cried because she didn't want to burp on me, obviously because she loves me more and I'm the favorite uncle."

"No, she cried because she knew Uncle Sam would take care of her. She wanted me!" Sam argued.

Then, she burped again. Only this time it was accompanied by lots of throw up all the way down Sam's back.

"Steve. Come get your daughter." Sam deadpanned.

Laughter filled the room as Bucky got up and stole her back from Sam.

"Yep, I'm definitely the favorite." Bucky stated proudly as Steve followed him to wipe her mouth with a cloth.

"She really does take after you, Steve" Sam agreed with Bucky. "But all her good looks are definitely from sugar cookie."

"Once again, I've never been more proud!" Steve smiled down at his little Cinnamon Roll, patting her round little belly with pride.

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