#bucky barnes imagine

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[jobean12-blog]

Lost In You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Bucky's been too busy lately and you're missing him badly so you do something to get his attention and it works...

Author's Note: The picture below was too much to handle and gave me Mob feels and I do love writing him with a soft edge, which I hope comes across here. There isn't much back story, lately I can't do much more than focus on the action LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks a bunch Daisy!🥰

Warnings: tension, masturbation over the phone (bc where the hell is your man!), soft moments in between the smut

It’s been the longest week of your life. Bucky’s been…busy and you’ve had enough and you’re just about to tell him so when your phone buzzes in your hand.

“Don’t forget what I want tonight. Make sure you eat dinner doll. I’m going to be keeping you up.”

You huff out a small laugh at his text message. He’s been keeping you up all week and while you’d never complain you would like him to be more available.

With slightly shaky hands, you press his name to call him, and wait while it rings once…twice…

“Is everything all right?” he asks immediately.

“James,” you purr. “Are you busy?”

Silence greets you across the line and after several long beats, he clears his throat, quietly.

“Doll,” he says, “you know you shouldn’t be calling me right now unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m in the middle of something. What do you need?”

His voice is low. Stern and laced with irritation at the interruption.

Your hand slides down your torso, over your belly button and lower, between your spread legs.

“I miss you,” you pout into the phone. “But if you can’t talk I can call back at a better time.”

You can almost imagine the way he leans in, pressing the phone flush to his ear and listening carefully for every sound on the other end of the line.

“No, I’m here now. I miss you too doll.”

Your hand slides up and back, fingers pressing into your skin. You pretend it’s his hand and he’s hovering over you, watching your expression.

“When are you coming home?” you start, your breath catching when you hear him exhale forcefully.

“Doll,” he whispers, and now you know he must be alone in his office, having silently gotten rid of anyone else. His voice has gone hoarse, goading, deep enough that if he were here you can just imagine the way his eyes would darken with intent.

“Why won’t you let me come see you.”

You try to keep your words steady but your fingers are moving faster now, sliding easily over skin that has grown slick with the sound of his voice, the sound of his breath through the phone.

You imagine him behind his large and ornate desk, his jaw tight, his hand clutching himself through his zipper.

Just the thought makes you gasp.

“You’re a distraction,” he hisses, and you moan quietly without meaning to.

“Are you being a distraction right now doll?” he asks.

Your back arches off the pillows, sensation pooling and warming in your thighs, low in your stomach.

“Do you want to hear me?” you ask. “Do you like thinking of me doing this in our bed?”

“Are you…” he growls. “Doll…”

You remember the way he looked at you this morning before he left. You remember how his mouth felt on your neck when he climbed into bed last night.

And then, when you barely whisper, “oh god,” you hear his rumbling groan on the other end and completely fall to pieces under your own hand, pretending it’s his, knowing how much better it will feel when it really is his, later.

Your legs are shaking and you’re crying out into the phone, riding through the wave of heat, slick pleasure sliding across your skin. You say his name, some other things you’re not even sure are coherent but just knowing he’s listening, and it’s all he can do- he can’t touch you or feel you-prolongs your release until you’re spent.

“Doll.”

You blink with a swallow. “Bucky…I…”

“Don’t you dare move,” he warns. “I’m coming home.”

You’ve drifted off waiting for him when the door slams open, the knob hitting the plaster of the wall just on the other side of the bedroom. Startled, you sit up, grasping the sides of his button down and covering yourself as he storms into the bedroom.

“There you are,” he whispers, his voice too low and steady and you know you’re in for it.

He stalks toward you, stopping at the side of the bed and running a hand through his already mussed hair.

“Did you think that was a good idea doll?”

You push up onto your knees, sliding your hands up his chest and into the open buttons at the top by his neck.

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

He closes his eyes, moving his fingers to your jaw, down your neck to push his button down off your shoulders. His hands slide over your breasts before he pulls his hands back, forming tight fists.

“You don’t think you’re the only thing on my mind all day…and night,” he says. “I count the minutes until I can come home to you.”

“But you’ve been gone so much this week. The late nights aren’t enough.”

He leans in and says, “I’ve had a lot of business to attend to and tonight especially.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, as you lean in to meet him, your lips brushing along his neck.

His eyes flutter closed, nostril flaring.

“What do you think it looks like. Me running off?”

With his eyes anchoring yours, and to make his point, he slides a rough hand lower, between your legs, two fingers searching and finding you soaked.

“Who made you this wet?”

You don’t answer, closing your eyes and pushing into his hand before reaching to grip his wrist and fuck his fingers if he won’t move.

He jerks his arm back and pulls his fingers away, reaching to push them into your mouth, pressing your taste onto your tongue. His hand grips your jaw, fingers curled into the hollow of your cheeks to hold your mouth open.

“Answer me.”

“You.” The word is hard to get out around his intrusive fingers, but you manage, and he pulls back, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re all I think about,” you say as you stare up into his eyes, so intense with desire.

They soften as you continue to hold his gaze. His eyes drop to your lips and his hands spread gently at your waist.

“I don’t care that you’re busy and had to leave. I want you to ignore it.”

His jaw tenses.

“I want you.”

“Doll,” he breathes out before his lips crash over yours, tongue pushing your mouth open, tasting, rolling up against your teeth.

You greedily reach for his shirt, tugging it free of his pants. With shaking fingers, you work each button free and once his smooth, warm torso is exposed, you let out a fevered moan and your hands are frantic across his skin, your fingers catching on the gold chain that rests there.

He growls when you spend too long running your hands up and over his chest, stroking and teasing the line of hair heading down below his belly button and into his pants.

Impatiently, he tugs at the shirt that’s still draped half over your body, pushing his hips forward, and grunting his approval when you quickly unfasten his belt, his zipper and shove his pants down his thighs so you can free his cock.

Oh.

It rests warm and thick against his belly and when you reach for him he’s steel in your hands. You use both to grip him and slide them down his length, dipping your head so you can suck on him with as much hunger as you feel.

He exhales a tight groan as you pump him in your fist and then curls down, capturing your mouth in a brutal, commanding kiss. You pull away, intending to lick him until he comes, but with a growled curse he pushes you back on the bed, kicking off his pants and climbing over you.

With hands flat on your thighs he spreads your legs, leaning forward and roughly thrusting into you. It’s a relief so enormous you moan loudly, never before feeling so full of him. You’re starving and satisfied, wanting him to stay like this forever.

He pulls back and then slams forward, gripping the headboard for leverage and taking you so roughly each thrust forces air from your lungs.

It’s wild and frantic, his body over yours, your legs clamped around his waist.

“I needed to get this deal done tonight,” he hisses, hands gripping your thighs. He pumps hard and fast, sweat trickling down his temple. “Instead, I need to come home and deal with my needy wife.”

His large, rough hands reach for your breasts, and he slides his thumbs across your nipples.

“Please make me come,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please,” you beg. “I’ll be good.”

You know he can’t deny you anything. Not really. He’ll give you everything you want. Always. And that’s exactly what he does when he angles your hips and drops his hand between your legs, pressing a finger to your clit until you feel the rush of warmth along your skin and the tension build deep in your belly.

“Bucky,” you cry out as your pussy tightens around him and your body arches beneath him.

The sight of you so lost in him is too much and he thickens inside you before filling you up, his hips stuttering and slowing.

He carefully pulls out and falls to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms and burying his head in the side of your neck.

“Baby doll,” he murmurs, his lips warm and soft at your skin.

“You’re not leaving again right?” you ask quietly.

His hand slides along your waist to your stomach where he reaches for yours and tangles your fingers together.

“No doll face. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your palm and then turning it over to press a kiss to your wedding ring. His mouth moves across your knuckles then to each fingertip and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says again, rocking behind you and pushing his thigh between yours.

You start to move against it, the friction from his hard muscle making you grip his hand tightly. When he feels your wetness coat his skin he purrs into your ear, pushing your body down harder onto his thigh.

And just when you feel yourself nearing the edge he pulls his leg away. You whine out his name but with quick hands he rolls you onto your stomach, spreads your legs, and slides in so deep you gasp.

His groan vibrates across your skin, his lips warm and soft at your neck before he whispers along the shell of your ear, “I need to feel you come around me again.”

[throwmethroughawindow]

This is SOOOOO good😍😍😍 I love a good Bucky Barnes fuck - I mean fic😏

˚ · . 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: (mild) steve rogere x fem!reader x bucky barnes | masterlist

summary: It’s every woman’s dream to be married to Captain America, and by some stroke of luck, you are. Steve Rogers is as loyal and doting as he can possibly be - and you try to be the same. But that isn't always easy - especially when Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes, is there and Steve never is.

— warnings: nsfw content: infidelity (reader x bucky), oral sex [f recieving], p in v (rough and soft)

It’s not that you don’t love your husband.

You do.

It’s just - he’s never here. At home. With you. And despite his best attempts at being a doting, loyal husband, Steve has other priorities - like saving the world. And it’s fine. It’s manageable.

Until it isn’t.

But Bucky - God, Bucky’s always here. Bucky Barnes, your husband’s best friend, who is nothing like your husband at all, and somehow all the same. To be nice, he’d offered to take you out for drinks, in a friendly, caring way, because your husband can't, and you’d been all mopey and pouty because of his absence. Bucky offered to take you out because your actual husband, Steve Rogers, is too busy saving the actual world to spend any quality time with you. Because unlike Bucky, Steve can’t live without a war, and you knew that before you married him.

Steve Rogers is a good man.

But you're not exactly a good wife.

It's not that you don't love your husband.

It's just that - well, when was the last time Steve went down on you? Or even kissed you? When was the last time you were pinned beneath him, writhing and crying out, being fucked so rough and good that you couldn't walk the next morning?

Well, you can't remember - and that’s the problem. It’s the whole reason you've ended up in this situation in the first place.

Bucky is so much like Steve. Maybe that's why you’re so attracted to him. Sure, physically he’s different - though just as muscular, he contrasts your husband with his big, intense ocean eyes and thick, brown hair. But Steve and Bucky are so tight-knitted, so close, because other than that, they are exactly the same.

Yet there’s one, major difference.

Bucky’s here, kissing you, pinning you below him, and your husband isn’t. Steve is absolutely nowhere to be seen.

There’s an overwhelming amount of guilt pulsating through you as Bucky’s fingers curl around your underwear. They’re wet, and arousal shamefully pools in your stomach as Bucky coos, his lips flickering upwards into a smirk.

“All this for me, doll?” Bucky asks, his voice rumbling through you as his tongue flattens against your cunt, circling against your clit.

The cool of his metal arm burns against the hot of your skin. Your legs jolt and warmth pools in your lower belly as his tongue skilfully swirls around your clit, his breath fanning against you. “Bucky,” you mumble out weakly, your fingers dancing in his hair, tugging at his long, brown locks softly, mewling as his stubble brushes harshly against your skin. "Bucky, this isn't right.”

“Then why are you so wet?”

You close your eyes in disgust at his words. His breath is husky, and you desperately want to push him away, tell him that you're happily married and that you don't want this. That you don't crave this. You want to push him away, really, really badly. Except there's no longer any fire set ablaze within you - no genuine desire to push him away, and curse at him for doing this with you. Instead, you beckon him in - shakingly opening your legs so he has better access to your cunt, and he thanks you by greedily nuzzling against you, his tongue flicking at your clit perfectly.

There's an ache within you that hasn't been dulled in months. An ache that is pulsating as Bucky's mouth works against your cunt magically. His tongue slides up and down your slits, teasing your hole before gliding back up to your clit and sucking softly, gently, like you're easily breakable. And perhaps you are - because you're withering and crying against him, bucking into his face like a goddamn cat in heat.

"This might just be the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," Bucky hums, pressing soppy kisses against your cunt, his fingers parting your slits slightly. Your cunt is perfect, pretty, and swollen, throbbing softly. "When was the last time he touched you, doll?"

"Bucky," you squeeze your eyes shut, your grip in his hair tightening as he pressed deliberate kisses against your clit, your knees wavering in response. “It - it doesn’t matter.”

He groans, pulling away from you, his stubble brushing against your thighs, leaving marks in its wake. "It’s been long enough for your pussy to be weeping like this for me. Jesus, doll, he’s been neglecting you. Neglecting this perfect little pussy of yours. Do you know how lucky he is to have you?"

Your eyes flutter shut, and your legs begin to close, no longer wanting Bucky's face pressed against your cunt. The guilt of having Bucky here, in your bed, in Steve's bed, is beginning to drown you. Because it's the contrary - Steve isn't lucky to have you. You're lucky to have Steve. Your Steve, whose saving the world right now, making sure a mother is reunited with her kids, smiling at press conferences, talking about you in every goddamn interview, and here you are.

With Bucky fucking Barnes between your legs, eyeing up your naked frame like you’re the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.

“Bucky, we really should stop,” you plead, slightly breathless as Bucky forces your legs apart again, his strength no match for your own. “I’m married.”

“Yeah, and look where that’s gotten you, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, gliding his tongue up your cunt, stopping to pepper a kiss to your clit. “You’ve gotta husband whose never home. A husband who hasn’t-“ his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, deliberate and slow, “-hasn’t made you cum in months. I mean, he’s practically leaving you celibate.”

“I vowed to stay loyal,” you squeak out as Bucky’s lips wrap around your clit again, his tongue skilfully flicking at your bundle of nerves. It feels so good - too good, and you grow warm and fuzzy and your toes begin to curl. “Oh my god, Bucky, I took a vow,” you say, but your words mean nothing now, falling on deaf ears. You’re cheating on Steve - you’re cheating on your husband, and it just feels so goddamn good.

Your orgasm is so close. So near. And you haven’t came without using your own fingers in months - and Bucky is just so perfect. He hums against your cunt, his fingers parting your slits so he can be extra attentive to your clit, his tongue swirling against the particularly sensitive bundle of nerves. You can’t speak, you can’t move; you just feel him, warm and fuzzy and clouded with ecstasy. You try to ignore how the sound of his moan when you cum against him makes you feel - try to pretend like Bucky’s enthusiasm isn’t making your stomach flip as you squirt hard against his face.

“Oh, that’s it, doll,” Bucky groans, nuzzling closer to your cunt, determined to ride you through your orgasm. Your thighs shake against him uncontrollably, and you feel humiliated as he gazes at you in awe. Like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “You’re so good. So, so good.”

Your heart flutters when Bucky’s cock presses against your thighs. His hands palm your legs open, and he lets out a gentle hiss as his cock brushes against your wet cunt. It feels so wrong, so intimate to be in this position with him. Bucky’s eyebrows are furrowed together, his hands softly palming at the skin of your legs as he lines the tip of his cock up with your cunt.

“I took a vow,” you choke out quietly, regret tearing through you as Bucky pushes into you, slowly, softly. “Bucky, I took a vow!”

“He took a vow too, doll.” Bucky tells you gently, making note of how your nose crinkles when his cock brushes against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt. His hips pull backwards softly, his balls feeling full and heavy as he fucks you, fingers softly massaging at your thighs. “To be there for you. In sickness and in health. To be by your side, no matter what.. But where is he? He isn’t here.”

“He’s isn’t here,” you repeat solemnly, gasping as Bucky’s cock glides in and out of your cunt perfectly. The motion of his hips is steady and smooth, his cock glistening as he fucks you, and he treats you so gently, like you’re porcelain, fine china; something easily breakable.

It feels perfect. You haven’t been fucked in months. You haven’t been touched in months. How were you supposed to say no? Sure, you took a vow, but like Bucky said - so did Steve.

So, it doesn’t matter anymore. This thing with Bucky? It doesn’t matter anymore. Steve will never know because this is only going to ever be a one-night stand.

“Jesus, Bucky, harder,” you breathe, mewling as his hips begin to speed up, his cock stretching you out.

It burns. He’s stretching you and it burns, but surprisingly it feels good. You’re so tight - clenching down on him when his cock fucks against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt, trying to ignore your guilty conscience and instead focus on the pleasurable aspect of him rutting into you lewdly.

Bucky grunts, watching as your arousal pools around his cock, leaving a ring of white at the base of his length. You tremble beneath him, shake like a leaf, and he scoffs at how easy it is to force an orgasm out of you. You’re gasping and writhing below him already - the dirty sounds of your mouth echoing cruelly with the dirty sounds of your squelching cunt.

It doesn’t even matter to you anymore. None of this matters. You chase your own pleasure - desperate for it, bouncing against him eagerly. If Bucky wants you to feel good, you’re going to let him make you feel good. And Jesus Christ, he makes you feel more than good. You clench down around him again, your belly flooding with warmth, your vision going blurry, and you cum.

And it’s perfect. It’s everything. You’re clenched around him so tightly that it’s a hard job to continue fucking you, but he manages it - trying to hold his own orgasm until you’ve finished, because Bucky really, really doesn’t want to cum inside of you.

He really doesn’t.

But people don’t always get what they want. With one, slightly strangled groan, Bucky cums, his balls slapping against you frantically as he chases his own orgasm, unbothered by your shaking, trembling body beneath him.

“Bucky, I’m not on the pill,” you say, finally, gasping for breath as Bucky collapses on top of you, his lips peppering soft kisses against you. “Steve and I - we’re trying for a baby. I’m not on the pill.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter shut slightly, and you try to ignore the rise of panic in your chest. “It’s fine. Doll, it’s fine, stop panicking, please.”

“Okay. Okay, Bucky.”

Trying for a baby. You and Steve are trying for a baby. At least, you spoke about it. Discussed it.

“We need to stop doing this,” you breathe, body melting into the mattress as Bucky pulls you closer to him, and you close your eyes, trying to ignore the burn of your throat as your eyes prick with tears. “I’m married.”

“I know.”

You shake your head. “I’m serious, Bucky. I’m - I’m married to your best friend.”

“I know.” Bucky blows out a breath, trying to ignore the sparks which shoot up his skin as your head nuzzles against his chest and you breathe his scent in, deeply. “We need to stop doing this.”

“We did stop. We stopped when Steve got back last time.” You toy with the fingers on his titanium arm, trying to calm down your racing heart. “Why do we keep doing this?”

Bucky hums, watching you anxiously fiddle with his fingers, trying to even out his breathing. “Because he isn’t enough for you,” he says softly, nuzzling you closer to his chest. “If Steve was just Steve, you’d have it all. He'd be enough. But he isn’t just Steve, he’s Captain America as well, doll, and that title will always come first. You know that.”

Steve Rogers is a good husband. A loyal husband, who goes back to his hotel room every evening and calls you and makes sure you’re okay. A loving husband, who sends you flowers randomly when he’s been away from home for far too long. A husband who lets you spend his money whenever and wherever you want to. Steve Rogers is a really, really good husband.

You’re just not exactly a good wife.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hi lovely! Here’s my ask: Bucky and reader have been pinning for each other nonchalantly for a while but reader says something that causes Bucky to throw them over his shoulder and threatens to tickle the shit out of them (and then does it after seeing how flustered they are). Feelings get confessed, weaknesses are exposed, it’s a whole plate of fluff. 🥰😘

hell. why not? This prompt is so fun - thanks, anon! hope you enjoy x

Predictable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: ~1500

Content / warnings: swearing, kissing, tickle fic

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

The hallway was quiet except for the sharp click of your boots and the heavy, measured steps of Bucky Barnes beside you. The mission briefing had ended, the others scattering to their own quarters, leaving you and him walking under the hum of fluorescent lights.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” you said, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Bored? Lost in thought? Don’t tell me you’re planning another dramatic brooding session. Maybe in front of a window, rain streaking down the glass?”

Bucky looked at you, one brow quirked, his lips curling faintly at the corner. “You done?”

“I gotta say, you’re really sticking to the dark soldier aesthetic,” you quipped, hands shoved in your pockets. “It’s impressive. Very consistent.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. “Consistent, huh? That your way of saying I’m boring?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say boring.” You turned to him, letting your grin curl just sharp enough to bait him. “More… predictable.”

He stopped walking, his head tilting just slightly, and the gleam in his eye made something in your chest tighten.

“Predictable?” he repeated, his tone soft, like he was rolling the word around to test it.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the grin threatening to spread. “It’s not a bad thing, Bucky. You’re… reliable. Steady. I can set my watch by your moods - glare, brood, occasional grunt of disapproval. It’s comforting, really.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the silence and tension stretching between you.

“What?” you asked, try to hold back a smirk. “Did I hit a nerve?”

His gaze sharpened on yours, glinting with something dark and teasing that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “You really think I’m predictable?”

The air between you crackled with tension, each word a spark igniting the unspoken feelings lurking beneath the surface. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected you.

“I’m just saying-”

Before you could finish, he moved. Quick as a snap, his hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him. You stumbled, nearly cursing, before he bent low, braced his shoulder into your middle, and straightened, hoisting you up and over.

“Bucky!” Your voice came out an octave higher than usual, your palms pressing against his broad back as you flailed. “Put me down!” you hissed, your fists pounding helplessly at his shoulders as the world spun upside down.

He ignored you, his laughter low and dangerous as it rumbled through his chest. “Still think I’m predictable?”

“Yes! You’re-” Your voice caught, your brain short-circuiting when his palm splayed against the back of your thigh to keep you steady. The touch was firm, effortless, and it did unforgivable things to your ability to form coherent words. “Y-you’re shooting the messenger. This is completely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary?” he echoed, his tone laced with a sinister amusement. “You sure about that? Because I think this is overdue.”

Your stomach flipped at the shift in his voice - low and teasing, laced with a playful edge you’d never heard before.

He turned a corner abruptly and nudged open a door with his boot, stepping into a small, dimly lit storage room.

“Wait, what- what are you doing?” you demanded, kicking your legs uselessly. “Bucky, I swear- ”

“I’d save your breath if I were you,” he said darkly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your mind lurched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A slow, devilish chuckle rolled through him. “It means, smartass, that I’m about to tickle the shit outta you.”

Your brain flatlined.

You froze. Completely froze. For the first time, your mouth opened - but nothing came out. Heat flared across your entire body, and Bucky’s amused hum was like a spark to gasoline.

“Oh,” he hummed, patting your thigh like some cruel punctuation to your embarrassment, “that got your attention.”

“Shut up!” you finally spluttered, mortified, because now he knew. Now he knew, and you’d just handed him a weapon far more dangerous than any gun or blade.

His laughter was low, dark, and - gods help you - so unfairly attractive that it only made things worse. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your squirming renewed tenfold, panic spiking through you as you tried to push yourself up off his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Bucky Barnes! I swear-”

He unceremoniously let you drop back onto your feet, your balance faltering as you collided with his chest, still breathless. You shoved at him instinctively, trying to regain your footing, but he was already advancing, backing you toward the nearest wall.

Your face was on fire now, your usual sharp wit nowhere to be found. You’d never seen him like this - playful, teasing, free - and it was completely throwing you off.

You stammered, breath catching as your back hit the wall. “B-Bucky- no! Don’t-”

“You're really worked up about this,” he interrupted, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The shadows softened the hard lines of his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something else.

He leaned in slightly, caging you in with his hands braced against the wall beside your head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” you hissed, even as you felt your face go hotter.

The smirk grew. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

"Predict this, sweetheart."

Before you could blink, his hands darted to your hips, fingers digging in with deliberate precision. Your reaction was immediate - a gasp, a choked laugh you couldn’t swallow back in time.

“No!” you shrieked, laughter already bubbling out of you as you squirmed violently. “I take it back, okay?! I take it back!”

“Too late,” Bucky replied, grinning like the devil himself as his hands squeezed your sides again. “Now I’m invested.”

"B-Bucky! Cut it out!"

“Cut it out?” he repeated, his tone mock-innocent as his fingers dugs across your ribs. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“Shut up!” you managed between gasping laughs, your cheeks burning with humiliation and something dangerously close to exhilaration.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted, his voice dark and edged with amusement. “When you called me predictable? Did you want me to prove you wrong?”

Your response was lost in another fit of helpless laughter as his hands found a particularly sensitive spot just under your ribs. You twisted against him, but his grip was unrelenting, his body solid against you.

You let out a strangled laugh, pressing back against the wall as your knees started to give. “You’re- you’re cool! And- and spontaneous and - Bucky - fuck! You’re hot and mysterious and-”

He paused for a second, his grin sharpening as he processed your accidental confession. “Hot, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug.

Your face burned like the sun. “I didn’t mean- fuck, just forget I said-”

“Oh, no,” he said, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I think we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“Buck, I didn't-”

“Nope,” he interrupted, his fingers digging into your sides again, drawing another breathless shriek from you. “We’re not done yet.”

Your laughter filled the room, wild and unguarded, as you tried in vain to squirm away. He zeroed in on your lowest ribs, his fingers hitting angles that sent you reeling. You tried to hold on the desperate peal of laughter, but it echoed through the storage room as your knees weakened further.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your voice breaking as you gripped at his jacket to try and keep yourself upright, another shriek bursting through your lips when his fingers pressed into another susceptible spot. "Please! I can't breathe- BUCKY!"

His grin softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something quieter, something genuine. He caught your chin gently with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Hot, huh?” he repeated, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

The word hung in the air, a moment of suspended silence between frantic laughter and tension thick enough to choke on. You froze, still panting, your face burning with horror.

Bucky stilled too, his gaze locking onto yours. Then, slowly, his grin returned - this time sharper, hungrier.

His lips were on yours before you could think, a sudden, fiery kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

You melted immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he pressed you further into the wall, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head back, the other gripping your hip. The heat of it was overwhelming, his lips firm and insistent. It was messy, unpracticed, and searingly real.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, still panting, cheeks aflame. His thumb brushed your temple, sending a shiver up your spine, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as his lips grazed yours.

“Did you see that coming, too?”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned against his lips. “Yeah. From a mile away.”

Before he had the chance to retaliate, you kissed him again.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Imagine... (‘fake dating becomes too real’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 19 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (500w) Best friends. Repressed feelings.

Imagine Bucky insisting on being your wingman. You’ve been friends for years, and he’s had to watch you repeatedly get your heart broken, the guys you chose inevitably turning out to be assholes. He doesn’t blame you, but it’s been unbearable standing by, trying to be supportive, all the while living in denial about being in love with you. After your latest horror story of a date, he reaches his limit and formulates a foolproof plan of helping you find someone. With his skills of easily reading people, it’s not hard to convince you, your agreement coming before either of you can really think it through.  You don’t even question it when Bucky seemingly finds red flags with all the guys you’re interested in, the dating apps known for letting you down. Going to public places is just as fruitless, most of the men frequenting bars not up to either of your standards.  When he can sense your growing frustration, about ready to swear men off completely, he finally stops grasping at straws. Instead of coming up with excuses as to why someone’s the wrong choice for you, he lowers his impossible standards and puts more effort into finding you a good potential partner. Still deep in denial about his feelings for you, Bucky convinces himself he’s just looking out for a friend, wanting nothing more than for you to be happy. He’s only pacing his apartment because he’s concerned about your wellbeing, your date now entering hour two. The nearly crushing grip he has on his phone isn’t because he’s jealous, he’s just praying for an update. Your eventual text does little to ease the rollercoaster of emotions the night has taken him on, the date turning out to be a flop, the blame falling on you. You’re so used to dealing with the wrong men that when a possibly good one comes along, your own awkwardness ruins it. Because Bucky’s a glutton for punishment, he offers to take you on a pretend date, intent on helping you over this additional hump, wanting you to have a good experience. It’s definitely not because you’re all he dreams about and this is the only way he’ll ever get to flirt with you. Whatever limitations you thought were hindering you, Bucky doesn’t see them, finding all your little quirks endearing. The obvious blush on your cheeks and soft stuttering when you’re caught off guard with a compliment. The occasional fidgeting with the silverware when the silence starts to build. The way you cover your mouth when you erupt with laughter. The realization of how fucking in love with you he actually is hits him like a force, his bite of food having to be choked down, your bright smile leaving him breathless. He never wanted this to happen, but as Bucky gazes upon your innocent questioning look, he knows there’s no coming back from this. The only thing he can do is hope that maybe he’s the one you’ve been searching for all along.

Day 18 | Imagine... Masterlist | Day 20

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

[pigeonmama]

This is the type of Christmas miracle I want for myself

starry eyed

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

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

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

my masterlist

“So, whose name did you draw?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you get?” Sam asks.

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

A northern lights projector.

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

One Month Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, grabbing the remaining packet of oatmeal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn't you?” You ask him.

“I really would.”

Present Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come and see for yourself, you respond.

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

“Come in,” you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why—”

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

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

How silly of both of you, you think.

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

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

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

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

And so you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smile only grows once he realizes what it is.

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

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

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

••••••

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

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

4. When Santa was a Super Soldier

A Soldier's Touch < Masterlist > The Soldier, The Falcon and the Christmas Cheer

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You and Bucky volunteer at a Children's Home

Word Count: 2.6k

There was chaos in the group home when you and Bucky arrived. In the background, you could see the warm glow of Christmas lights spilling out of the windows, the raucous sound of laughter from children permeated through the walls and the faint hum of holiday music made the place feel alive with festive cheer. You had convinced Bucky to come with you with almost a week of gentle persuasion. He had been very hesitant at first, worried that his presence would upset the children. But you had taken his hand in yours, and with that wonderful smile which reflected through your eyes, you’d said, “They won’t see the things you’re afraid of. They’ll see the strong, kind man I see every day.”

Now here he was, standing at the threshold of the large house, his shoulders hunched over. He shot you a skeptical glance and murmured, “You sure this is a good idea?” 

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice firm but warm. “Besides, who could be scared of Santa’s helper?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not wearing a stupid costume.”

Unfortunately your arrival wasn’t met with quite the enthusiasm that you’d expected. Instead of open arms, the staff had their arms raised in panic. In short, there was complete bedlam. One of them stopped when they spotted you and Bucky and stopped for a moment to explain and usher you in. Apparently, the janitor had agreed to play Santa and the orphanage had hired a suit for him and an elf suit for his wife. Unfortunately the janitor had called in sick, the couple had unfortunately come down with the flu, not uncommon at this time of year. The staff knew that they couldn’t risk the health of a lot of children despite the disappointment they would feel.

“We’re scrambling to find a replacement,” the staff member said apologetically, “but it’s short notice…”

You and Bucky are left standing alone in the corridor. Bucky had a grim expression, feeling like the dark cloud that surrounded him was expanding. “This was a bad idea.” 

“Oh, no! I think we arrived just in time,” your eyes brightened and you grabbed his arm.

Bucky looked down at your mischievous face, understanding dawning on him. “No,” he said immediately, shaking his head.

“Bucky…” your voice filled with a mixture of reproach and pleading.

“I’m not doing it,” he said sullenly.

You tiptoed up to be closer to his face and lowered your voice. “Come on, Buck, they are just kids. You don’t want them to be disappointed, do you?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, clenching his vibranium fist and your heart melted.

“They won’t judge you, baby. They are going to love you, just like I do. You’d make a great Santa. You’ve got the muscles for carrying all those toys. Plus, I bet you’d look great in red.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, before sighing deeply. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me pancakes for a month.”

With a beaming smile, you agreed, “Deal.”

While Bucky was herded off to the janitor’s closet to change into the Santa suit, you slipped into the elf costume the group home staff handed you, laughing to yourself at how ridiculous you looked. It was a flared velvety red dress with an emerald green jacket with matching stockings. By the time you returned to the main room, the children were clearly growing restless. Your appearance was greeted with cheers and the kids crowded around you asking after Santa. You did your best to placate them, while craning your neck to the door where you expected Bucky to enter from. When he did eventually step out moments later, his transformation was complete. The red suit fit snugly over his broad frame, a snowy white beard, and his hat slightly askew. He looked every bit the part, though his face betrayed his unease.

His appearance was met with a solemn silence, multiple pairs of innocent eyes round as saucers as they took in the sight of him. Under the fake beard, you could see Bucky’s face, his expression frozen, bracing for a rejection. But then a tall girl who was standing at the back yelled loudly, “Santa’s here!” The room erupted into cheers, and before Bucky could blink, the kids were swarming him, tugging on his suit and pulling him toward the chair set up by the tree.

“See?” you smirked and whispered under your breath as he passed you. It wasn’t very loud but you knew he would hear you. “They love you already.”

He shot you a look that was equal parts gratitude and exasperation, then settled into the chair, letting out a hearty, if slightly awkward, “Ho, ho, ho!”

You approached the young teen who had stayed out of the way of the smaller children. “Not interested in getting your gift requests in?” you smiled at her, twirling a candy cane between your fingers.

“Too old for that stuff,” she said with a shrug, crossing her arms in a way that seemed more like a shield, keeping people at arm’s length. Her eyes darted over to the cluster of kids already clambering over Bucky, their laughter ringing through the room as he hoisted a little boy onto his lap with surprising ease. The corners of her mouth twitched upward briefly before she looked away, feigning indifference.

You tilted your head, watching her for a moment. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still believe in a little magic,” you said gently.

She snorted, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Magic doesn’t do much when you grow up.”

“I don’t know,” you said, glancing toward Bucky, who was now dramatically pretending to wobble under the weight of three kids climbing on him. “Looks like there’s some magic happening over there. And if you ask me, you’re never too old to hope for something good… or to let someone surprise you.”

The girl hesitated, her eyes flicking to the crowd around Santa Bucky. After a long moment of silence, she huffed and uncrossed her arms. “Fine, Mrs. Claus,” she said sarcastically. “But I’m not sitting on his lap.”

You smiled, walking up to Bucky alongside her. “Deal. But he’s a pretty good listener. You might want to give him a shot.”

As she approached the group, you stayed back, watching as she lingered at the edge of the crowd. You decided to get the other childrens’ attention by shouting, “Who wants candy canes?”

Immediately you were attacked by hundreds of sticky fingers, leaving the teenage girl alone. Bucky spotted her almost immediately, his sharp blue eyes softening under the ridiculous fake beard. He gestured for her to come closer with a warm smile, and to your surprise, she did. She sat down beside him and you tried to listen in but you couldn’t hear anything over the din of the squeaky voices demanding candy. Whatever she said to him made Bucky’s expression grow serious, and he nodded, responding with a calm, steady voice that seemed to make her relax. By the time she stood up, there was a faint smile on her face, and she looked lighter somehow, like a weight had lifted.

When she passed you on her way to the snack table, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, what’d you tell him?”

She shrugged again, but this time there was a spark in her eyes. “Nothing much. Just stuff I don’t really talk about. He… he was nice about it.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that.” You glanced back at Bucky who was laughing as a boy placed a candy cane under his nose like a mustache. “I think it's my turn to sit in Santa’s lap. What do you think?”

The young teen stopped and rolled her eyes at you, but an amused smirk appeared on her face. “You? On Santa’s lap? Aren’t you a little old for that?” she said a little sarcastically.

“Hey!” you cried defensively. “There’s no age limit on wish-making.” 

A little boy pushed past the teen, “Move Sophie! Quit hogging the candy lady!” he squeaked.

You placed candy canes in the little hands that tugged at your skirt. “Besides,” you continued your conversation with Sophia, “Someone’s gotta make sure he’s doing his job right.”

She chuckled and walked off, shaking her head as she left. She strode towards the other children who offered her their snacks willingly. You turned to Bucky, your hands full with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, the bell on your hat jangled loudly as you approached him. He was currently helping a small boy untangle a ribbon from his hair. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up, catching your eye with a questioning tilt of his head as his eyes roamed over your attire.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned, pointing at him.

“Not laughing,” he replied, but his grin betrays him. “You’re adorable.”

“And you’re the most rugged Santa I’ve ever seen,” you teased back.

“Rugged Santa? I’ll take it, as long as you don’t expect me to wrestle a polar bear or something.”

Bucky’s smirk softened as his eyes dropped to the little boy cradled against his chest, his small hand clutching the edge of the red coat. “Well, looks like I’ve got my excuse,” he murmured, nodding toward the sleeping child. “Can’t wrestle a polar bear while I’m on babysitting duty.”

You smiled, stepping closer and lowering your voice to match his gentle tone. “That’s okay. You’re doing something way tougher.”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Being someone he feels safe enough to fall asleep on,” you said, you nodded your head towards the toddler in his lap.

Bucky’s expression faltered for just a second, the usual guardedness in his eyes giving way to something raw and soft.

“Guess I can handle that,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You sat down on the large chair beside Bucky and held out the glass of milk. Bucky looked around and lowered his beard slightly so he could take a surreptitious sip from the glass. You smirked at the milk mustache that was left behind.

“You’re really good at this,” you say quietly, handing him a napkin.

He wiped his upper lip, looking down at the little boy in his arms, who was now fast asleep. “I didn’t think I would be,” he admitted. “But... they don’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster. They just see Santa.”

You placed a hand on his arm. “Because you’re not a monster, Buck. You’re a good man. And these kids? They see what I see.”

Bucky looked at you like he didn’t quite believe it but he desperately wanted to. The toddler in his arms stirred slightly and Bucky looked down, rocking back and forth gently until the boy settled again.

The evening ended with the group home staff gathering the children around the large tree to sing Christmas carols, with you and Bucky joining in, albeit reluctantly. One of the older kids, a boy of about ten, tugged on Bucky’s sleeve and asked, “Are you coming back next year, Santa?”

Bucky looked at you for a moment, then back at the boy. “You know what, kid? I just might.”

When it was finally time to leave, Bucky said goodbye to the kids, before speaking back to the janitor’s closet to take off his costume. He handed the red coat and beard back to the staff and you tugged on your coats and scarves. Things felt different as you stepped outside into the snowy evening, huddling together against the frosty weather.

Bucky looked down at your hand, his gloved fingers brushing briefly against yours between linking his fingers between yours. The two of you walked in silence for a while, Bucky’s face set in a contemplative frown. The loudest sound was your feet crunching in the snow. When you came to a street crossing, you both stopped, waiting for the signal to change.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said in a low tone.

You looked up at him, quizzically.

“Today.”

“You did something amazing today,” you said softly.

“Being there with those kids, seeing them look at me like that… they just saw me, not the person I was. It was... it was like I could actually do something good for once.”

“You’ve always done good things, Buck,” you responded, your voice filled with sincerity. “Even when you didn’t believe it yourself.”

Bucky sighed, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I guess I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign,” he shrugged. “Something to say that I’m more than… him.”

“Buck, you gave those kids something they’ll remember for a long time, something special. That’s who you are. They saw you, the real you. The person I’ve always known.”

“Maybe I can be that guy. Someone who makes a difference.”

“You already are, Buck,” you wrapped your hand around his arm. “You’ve always been that guy.”

You kept walking, hand in hand. “Do you think we could… go back next year?” he asked sheepishly.

You smiled, warmth blossoming in your chest at his tentative tone. “I think they’d love that,” you replied softly. “I think they’d be pretty disappointed if Santa didn’t make an appearance again. They’ll be fighting for your attention.”

Bucky chuckled and for once the sound of joy seemed genuine, making your heart swell. “Seeing their faces today...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It felt right, you know? Like… maybe I can be something good for someone.”

“You already are,” you reminded him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re good for me. And for those kids, you were their hero today.”

He glanced sideways at you, his blue eyes soft under the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the street. “You really think so?” he whispered.

“I know so,” you said firmly. “And if we go back next year, you can be their hero all over again.”

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “in a way, I hope we don’t see all the same kids back at the home next year.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Oh?”

He nodded, his gaze distant as if he were picturing each of their faces. “Especially not Sophie,” he added after a moment, referring to the teenage girl. “She’s been through enough. She deserves more than a Santa suit and a few presents once a year.”

“She deserves a home,” you said gently, your heart aching at the thought. “A real home.”

Bucky nodded, his jaw tightening temporarily. “Yeah. A real family. People who’ll stick around, who’ll love her the way she deserves…” he paused and then sighed. “All of them do.”

“You really care about them, huh?” you smiled, your voice soft with admiration.

“How could I not?” he replied, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “They remind me of... I don’t know… a feeling of being lost. Searching for something better.” He glanced down at you, his blue eyes shadowed but open. “If they can find it... well then, maybe there’s hope for me too.”

You stopped walking, pulling him gently to a halt so you could look at him fully. “There’s already hope for you, Bucky,” you said with quiet conviction.

He didn’t respond right away, just watched you, his expression unreadable but slowly softening at the edges. Then he nodded.

“Next year,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile. “But if Sophie’s not there, I’ll be okay with that.”

“So will I,” you agreed as you started walking again.

@lives-in-midgard @baw1066 @lomlbuckybarnes @woodinnn

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

mistletoe

a/n: thanks for helping me distract myself from everything that's happened these past few weeks ৎ୭

polls for the story: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

summary: while spending the holidays for the first time with your boyfriend’s family, you and his stepfather finally snap and a romance ensues. 

warnings:  boyfriend's stepdad!bucky barnes x reader x peter parker, smut, christmas stuff, major age gap (y/n is a uni student and bucky is in his 40-50's), college au, forbidden romance, cheating, established relationship, bucky has a tattoo sleeve instead of the metal arm, lawyer!bucky, dubcon, the classic "stuck under the bed" trope, clothed x naked, polyamory, threesome, kissing, dirty talk, public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, spit kink, masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, bondage, blindfold, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 8687

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

When you five minutes earlier had snatched up the spare key hidden in the flowerpot on the frosty front porch of your boyfriend’s house, the last thing you’d expected to happen next, once you’d tip-toed inside the vacant abode, was the unfortunate entanglement you found yourself in presently.

Trotting up to Peter’s room, not long passed after you’d set down your bag, your mind scrambling for the best spot to plant yourself in to pose perfectly for the surprise you were about to spring on him, that the phone in your palm tumbled out of your grasp and in the hectic flickering that crackled through your senses, your foot accidentally bumped against the device and sent it soaring under the bed that stood in the middle of the room. 

Through the grumbles that swiftly flowed from your lips, you sank down to your knees on the hardwood and twisted your head downward to grant you the perspective needed to spot the still glowing screen in the dusty darkness. 

Soon half of your body had disappeared beneath the bed as you stretched an arm up as high as your reach would let you, though as the tip of your tongue peaked out past your lips and you tried to squeeze yourself further into the dark, only a whisper of your touch managed to graze against the phone’s smooth edge. 

However, when the bright idea hit you to try and find a long item to help you scoop it closer to you, a sharp sting of resistance met your scalp as you reeled to try and crawl back out. 

“Fuck!” you hissed as your right hand soared up to the clump of hair at the crown of your head that had somehow gotten snagged on the underside of the bed frame. 

As you continued to yank and tug without prevail, dread slowly began to settle within your being before a creak suddenly found your ears and washed away some of the flickering panic. 

“Oh, thank god you’re here!” you squeaked from under the bed at the person in the doorway, presumably the guy whose bed you were trapped under, “baby, I–,” an airy giggle couldn’t help but seep out and filter through your sentence as you said, “this isn’t how it was supposed to go, I was gonna lay down on your bed or something, all dramatically, and surprise you, but now none of that matters because I’m stuck,” you laughed at your pitiful situation, your bottom barely covered in your short skirt as it wiggled up at him, “Peter, please, just help me out. I wanna kiss you, I haven’t seen you in two months.”

Though your boyfriend didn’t utter a word as the floorboard groaned beneath each of his steps, slowly crossing the room till you felt his presence behind you.

“It’s my hair,” you muttered, your hand still curled up by your head, “I don’t know if there’s like a nail or whatever’s going on under here, but it’s caught on something, and I can’t get it free.”

Gently, you felt his hand reach under the bed till it was gliding up the back of your neck. Slipping your fingers down to his, the skin felt much more rough and calloused than you remembered, though you swiftly shrugged that observation off as you guided his touch up to the imprisoned strand. 

As he attempted to break you free, his body couldn’t help but slope down against yours in order to reach your hair, and as you unconsciously wiggled beneath him at every futile attempt, you felt a hardness begin to grow and press up against your ass. 

A giggle couldn’t help but slip from your lips as you noticed, “aw, baby. I’ve missed you too,” you rolled your hips and offered him a purposeful grind, “you just gotta get me out of here and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to me… promise…”

But as soon as you’d intentionally rocked back against him, his grasp in your hair began to slacken and melt away till he let his touch travel down the slope of your spine, ghosting across your curves till his fingertips tickled along the bottom hem of your skirt. 

His warmth then disappeared from your frame as he sat back further behind you. Ever since you left your dorm room this morning, an excited spot bloomed and decorated your panties in anticipation of your sinful schemes, though now, hours later, the soaked patch that adorned the cotton that poked out from under your skirt, completely visible to the man behind you, had grown to a nearly embarrassing declaration of your desperation.

Slowly and almost hesitantly, he let his touch ghost over your covered core, catching you off guard by the tickling gentleness that your boyfriend hadn’t had to initiate with for the longest time as you’d both grown too comfortable with each other not to simply be bold in your actions, but this felt as if he was touching you for the very first time, as if he thought you were made of the purest porcelain. 

A heavy breath shuttered out of your frame as his light touch grazed over your covered core, slowly swiping up and down the drenched gusset. Eyes fluttering shut, you quietly joked, “you watch too much porn,” your words came out sounding hazy as the cliché fantasy got to you too, “if you really want to reenact this genre, then I’d much rather do the version with a washing machine and then just pretend that I’m stuck in there, that’s a much less dusty version, plus I wouldn’t actually be trapped.”

But as his tentative touch kept up, you couldn’t help but tilt back into it and feel yourself sink further into the ecstasy.

Soon his fingers hooked in the sliver of cotton as he tugged the gusset to the side, glistening strings of your want clinging to the fabric as he exposed your cunt to him, and as then his touch brushed over you without any barrier to dull the sensation, a breathy moan tumbled out of your lungs. 

Lightly, he rolled your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers, the slick sounds of your nectar sloshing and echoing throughout the bedroom as he tickled at your core. 

And when his digits stopped resisting the tempting twitch of your entrance and they plugged it up so perfectly it made your toes curl, you soon found yourself moving even more desperately than his own efforts caressed you as you fucked yourself back onto his fingers in a rock so erratic that the movements ended up being your saving grace as your lock of hair pulled free. 

A dizzy smile found your lips as you finally regained the ability to shift your head without an excruciating sting ripping at your scalp. Though just before you reached your peak, you twisted your head to glance back over your shoulder. Your eyes swiftly widened and your efforts ceased as the man whose fingers were making your drooling pussy sing wasn’t who you had assumed. 

“O-oh fuck!” you quickly scrambled out from under the bed and jolted away out of pure shock as you came face to face with your boyfriend’s stepdad, “Mr Barnes!”

But just as his lips hesitantly parted in a reply, the front door downstairs slammed and caused you to shoot up to your feet, Bucky rising as well. With your chest heaving in your hazy periphery, you could barely think before your palms began to shove at the older man’s broad frame, till he crossed the threshold of the bedroom and his feet began to carry him the rest of the way down the hall till you watched from the doorway as he disappeared into a different room. 

And with the soft click of that door closing behind him, the creaking on the grand staircase suddenly ceased and your eyes snapped over to find Peter frozen at the top step. 

“Oh my god, babe!” he exclaimed, a wide grin swiftly warming up his features, “what are you doing here?” his feet shuffled towards you before his arms enclosed around your form, “why aren’t you at school? I thought you had exams till next Friday.”

Still in shock as you felt your pussy leak down your thighs, “I managed to get done early,” you tried to mirror your boyfriend’s smile as he pulled back to look at you, “surprise!” 

When you last year had found yourself a little internship at the most prestigious law firm in town, it hadn’t come as a surprise to you just how many of the middle-aged men working there shamelessly flirted with you as you brought them their coffees. However, what you hadn’t expected in the slightest was Mr Barnes. 

Though his attempts were much more subtle than the rest, they in no way had the same effect on you as they didn’t make you squirm as the others did, but instead every time you tip-toed past his corner office and he so much as offered you a glance, you felt yourself spiral into a blushing mess and morphed into nothing short of a flustered schoolgirl.

Numerous scorching trays of coffee were nearly dropped, sentences embarrassingly stumbled through, as well as many other minor casualties in the carnage created when the lawyer would flash you a rare smile. 

But when December rolled around, and you found yourself at the annual holiday party, you should have looked up when you sauntered up to him to wish him a merry Christmas, as the dried twig of mistletoe above was swiftly made more than apparent to the both of you as every inebriated colleague surrounding you both grew rowdy, pressuring you till your lips met one another. 

The kiss may have begun as forced and hesitant, but soon it morphed into something much stronger than anything they served at the open bar, causing you both to forget your own names as the buzzing party from around you melted away till it was just the two of you in the office. As the heated kiss broke and you remained incredibly close, blinking back at one another, a heavenly curve found your lips as he gazed down upon you as if he was mere moments away from tossing you over his shoulder and hauling you into his office to have his way with you, not caring one bit about the lack of privacy the fronted glass provided. 

But just as your heart swelled in your chest, rumbles in the crowd swiftly broke it into a million tiny little pieces.

“Oh damn! Interns, they’re trouble. Just don’t tell your wife, Barnes! I know you’re new to that whole concept, what–, has it already been a whole month since the wedding?” 

“Yeah, here’s a lesson for you,” a different man shouted through his laugh, “what happens at the office, stays at the office! Not really a good idea to take the fun and games back home to the missus.”

You almost quit a whole month before the opportunity was supposed to come to an end but couldn’t, as the mere thought of not seeing his face every day any longer somehow shattered your heart even further. 

But one day, as you felt yourself drowning in the torture, Peter, a guy close to your own age showed up in the lobby, waiting for someone he knew at the firm. As his wait drew out and the minutes neared an hour, every ounce of his attention remained glued upon you. In an effort to mend your own heart, you decided that flirting back with him wasn’t the worst method to test out. However, it wasn’t till you began to move on and you actually fell for the sweet guy from the lobby that your world came crumbling down around you. 

The first time that Peter had invited you back to his home, as soon as you walked through the door, the truth of the relation between your newly minted boyfriend and the man, who at that time hadn’t been your boss any longer for a few weeks, was instead tossed in your face like a bucket of ice water. 

Mr Barnes turned out to be the rich asshole Peter’s mom had fallen for earlier that year, the one he often couldn’t hold his own tongue to grumble about as he hadn’t yet warmed up to the new father figure in his life. 

And that was how you got stuck in the bittersweet reality you now lived in. There was no way you could end things with Peter as he was the most wonderful boyfriend you’d ever had and whom you’d genuinely grown to love. But that wasn’t the only reason why you couldn’t do it, since if you were to let him go, then you would also have to let go of Mr Barnes, even if he was just a harrowing haunting of a hopeless dream. 

The house was completely silent as every soul within it slumbered, everyone except for you as plain beige wrapping paper crackled gently beneath the silk bow you tightened over it. You’d slipped into an office, that stood on the opposite side of the upstairs to where the cluster of bedrooms were, to secretly wrap up the handful of gifts you’d hidden at the very bottom of the bag you’d brought with you.

Though just as you sliced a pair of scissors through the paper to cut off a piece for the last present, a small bump suddenly echoed throughout the dark home. 

Getting up from your makeshift workstation on the floor, you peeked out into the dim hallway. Your slow steps caused the floorboards to groan as you took a look around, even casting a glance down the staircase to the entryway that bloomed below, before the noise found your ears once more, snapping your attention to somewhere deeper down one of the shadowy corridors.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you crept closer to the latch you now noticed was open. Ladder unfurled, the abyss of the attic loomed above you and sent a shiver down your spine. 

But then as a broad figure suddenly appeared in the opening, you couldn’t help but let out a shuttering yelp, even after you’d recognised the man whom your sudden shriek startled. 

“Mr Barnes!” your palm soared up to your pounding heart, “I thought you were a ghost or a burglar or something! What in the world are you doing up there?”

Ascending the ladder, you noticed the heavy box he balanced in his arms, “I was just getting some decorations for the tree,” he huffed as you caught your breath, reminding you of the still bare pine tree that stood down in the living room. 

“Right, I forgot that’s the plan for tomorrow,” you murmured as you spun around on your heel. Though as you entered the office once more, a glance over your shoulder led you to discover his shadow, “what are you doing?” you asked in a small voice as he followed you into the room. 

“This is my study,” he tilted his head as if that was common knowledge. 

“Oh,” you breathed, “I didn’t know,” and glanced down at the gifts you’d left on the floor, “sorry, I’ll go somewhere else.”

But just as you bent down to gather up your supplies, his deep voice crackled from behind you, “no need, make yourself at home,” he sat down the box before rummaging through it, taking out a few of the delicate ornaments before only tangles of twinkle lights were visible in the container, “I’ll only be a second.” 

Kneeling down beside the electrical socket closet to the door, he then began to check all of the lights, one by one, making sure none of the tiny bulbs were dead. 

And as you returned your hazy attention to the last of your remaining gifts, Mr Barnes then once again filled the silent office with his low tone, “…look, I–…” he hesitantly started, keeping his ocean stare glued to the ground, “you deserve an apology,” he exhaled heavily, “I don’t know what came over me earlier. It was wrong, completely inappropriate, and I can’t believe I let it happen.”

Blinking up at him as he refused to lift his gaze, a quiet, “oh…” shuttered out past your lips as his apology only broke your heart further. It, of course, hadn’t been ideal the way that he’d taken advantage of the unfortunate situation he’d found you in, but that doesn’t mean it hadn’t been a dream come true for you, complicated as it may have been. 

“Kiddo,” he sighed, “I understand completely if you don’t wanna spend Christmas here anymore. You just say the word, and I’ll make the arrangements for you to go back home.”

“Is that what you want?” you heard yourself utter, “for me to go?” 

Finally meeting your gaze, a crinkle found his dark brows, “…what I want can only cause harm…”

As you lost yourself in the ocean of his blue eyes, you whispered almost dreamily, “…do you still remember?” you felt your lips tingle at the memory as you slowly rose back up to your feet, “because up till today I had convinced myself that you were too drunk that night to recall…”

Shifting his gaze, Bucky then let out an exhale, “kid…” the single syllable carrying a gentle whisp of warning. 

“Or is it just normal for you to kiss interns under the mistletoe,” you couldn’t help but go on, “especially like that?”

“No,” he finally murmured as his head found a slow rock from side to side, “it isn’t,” though swiftly met your stare to caution, “and I’d hold my tongue if I were you before you say something that you shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” you breathed, “the truth?” 

“Stop,” he squeezed his eyes shut as his head faintly shook, “you’re my stepson’s girlfriend.”

“That’s true…” you averted your gaze to where your fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, “but he wasn’t the one that I fell for first… the one that I still can’t seem to get over…”

Your eyes then found one another for a split moment, locking with each other for a single breath before Bucky’s feet began to shift and he crossed the room. Catching your face in his wide palms, he then crashed his lips against your own. 

Your heels instinctively levitated off the ground, lifting you up closer to his towering height as he kissed you like he’d just come home from some mystical war. 

A sigh softly seeped out of your nose and tickled the grey that speckled his beard as you felt his starved tongue silkily sweep against your own. 

But just as the intoxicating taste of him weakened your knees, he tilted his chin and cut the kiss short. Blinking up at him as he kept your jaw in his grasp, you breathed, “Mr Barnes–”

“What the fuck am I doing–,” a faint whisper seeped through his sigh, “I’m going to hell for this…”

“So then stop,” the sound of your small voice beckoned his gaze to find your own, “if you don’t want me the way that I want you,” your fingers tangled in his tie, “just stop and go back to bed with your wife…”

“…I didn’t–…” he hesitantly began, “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you, especially not right after I’d gotten married,” his eyes stayed locked with your own, “I thought I’d finally figured it all out, and then there you were, all fresh-faced, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the suits…” the corner of his lips briefly twitched into a faint smile at the memory, “you turned my world upside down,” his fingers on the side of your face flexed gently as he uttered that declaration, “after you stopped working there, I–… I damn near almost quit myself… but then Peter brought back his new girl, and seeing you again, even if it was just a glimpse every once and a while, it was like I could breathe again.” 

Blinking up at him, dizzy from his honied words, your fingers tangled in his tie, then tightened, and you tugged him far enough down for your lips to lock once again.

Swiftly, his feet began to absentmindedly shuffle till your hips bumped into the edge of the polished desk that stood in the middle of the office. The bundle of forgotten Christmas lights were still glowing on the floor by the ajar door as your boyfriend’s stepfather let his broad hands scoop down over your body and pluck you up to sit on the table. 

It was the hold that you still had around the silky accessory knotted around his neck that caused him to slot in between your parted thighs, just a little tug was all it took for your knees to be needily grazing against his sides. Pulling on the tie, your lips didn’t stray from one another’s for but a moment as you undid the knot, let the fabric slip out from under his collar and tumble down onto the floor below. 

Though when his smouldering touches finally came to ignite against the softness of your tits through your sweater, a whimper tumbled out of your lungs and melted against his tongue, only narrowly getting muffled by his kiss as the sound threatened to fill up the entire room.  

“Shh,” he barely withdrew to hush, only tilted his head to catch a different angle before he dove back into your sweetness. 

“Sorry,” your murmur swiftly got swallowed by his pecks. 

But when his hands continued to rake across your form, making you feel like a flicking star that shot across the night sky, as his grip came down to dent your ass, it wasn’t just a soft whine that crawled up your throat, but a full on moan, as the manner he’d squeezed your curve had sent a tingling bolt straight to your throbbing clit. 

“You gotta be quiet.” 

“Shit,” you cursed as you heard it yourself, “sorry, sorry.”

This time you truly did try to keep your mouth shut, consciously biting your tongue as his burning hands nearly singed the clothes from your frame, but when his palm eventually snuck up the short hem of your skirt and slipped off the soaked panties that clung to your core, the sound that forced its way out of your body when his touch finally grazed through your dripping folds echoed into the night. 

And as soon as the moan tumbled off your lips, Bucky’s hand rapidly vanished from between your quaking thighs as he took a large step back. 

“You’re killing me here,” he groaned as he reached the opposite side of the room to plant his inked palm against the open door, shutting it as he leaned his weight into it, “you’ll wake up the whole house,” the fingers still clutching your underwear caught the lock and flicked it to the side. 

“I’m sorry,” you dug your nails into the polished wood you were balanced on, “I swear I’m trying to be quiet, I really am.”

“Well, not good enough,” he glanced back over his shoulder at where you sat before his vision flickered down to land upon the ribbon only half tied around the last of the presents you’d wrapped. His expression then softened as he slowly picked his stride up once more, “…but, I think I might be able to help…” on his way to where you were seated, he bent down to snatch up the loose strand still not fastened around the wrapped box, and when he stood before you once again, Bucky’s gaze fluttered to your mouth as he then uttered, “open up,” before you parted your lips for him. Your eyes swiftly grew as he first fed you the cotton of your panties before he wrapped the emerald silk ribbon around the stuffed opening and tied it off at the back of your head, “there,” he purred as he pulled on the small bow at the nape of your neck, “that’ll shut you up. Now where were we? Right! It was somewhere around here,” his word was emphasised by his touch as it slipped back up under your skirt, though this time when the broad pads of his fingers slipped through your glistening petals, your purrs were completely muffled against the makeshift gag. 

As his touch tickled at your core and caused your legs to quiver at either side of him, his face stayed close to your own, nose denting your hot cheek as his breath fanned against your skin. He even stayed that close as he began to strip you of your clothing, tossing it all to the floor till you were sitting before him wearing nothing but the bow he’d tied himself to keep you quiet.

Though as you shifted to mirror his actions, he stopped you just as you caught onto the zipper of his pants. 

“Na-ah-ah, kid,” he backed up just enough for the palpable tent in his trousers to disappear from your palm’s reach, “keep your hands to yourself. Be good, and then you’ll get your present.”

However, his whispered warning didn’t sink into your senses enough as barely any time passed before you stopped fighting the urge to touch him again. 

“What,” his chuckle washed over you as he captured your gaze, “don’t tell me you need to be tied up too?”

That notion sent a shiver down your spine before a smile poked out behind your gag as you playfully shrugged, your apparent approval causing Bucky’s light laugh to reappear in a second wave. 

Spinning around, the older man before you then grabbed the cord of glowing lights on the floor before stringing it along to where you were planted. First, he wrapped the vibrant strand of tiny bulbs around your wrists, tying them together in front of your body, before he tangled the remainder of the length around your torso, over your arms and all the way down to your waist. 

As he took a step back to admire his handiwork, that’s when he finally freed his dick, letting it spring forth from his pants as his stare licked up your bound visage. The strokes he swiftly offered himself were long and slow, making you press your thighs together as you watched, a yearnful whine vibrating against the cotton stuffing up your mouth. 

“Aw, do you want my cock?” he mocked as your constricted fingers instinctively tried to reach out for him. Closing the gap between you once again, with one hand, he scooped you closer to both the edge as well as the throbbing girth heavy in his palm, “you want this dick, huh?” he smirked before brushing the bulbous head through the drooling mess between your thighs. 

Your eyes fluttered as he nuzzled his hardness against your buzzing clit, though he somehow kept your stare captured in the intenseness of his own as he dragged the tip through your petals, making them part for him. It seemed like ages that he went between teasing your leaky entrance to sweeping up and flicking at your puffy pearl, though gradually each time he’d near your little hole, crying out for him to sink into, he dipped inside just a tiny bit, each time granting you more of his length till his heavy balls were nuzzled against your slick skin. 

His lips pressed against your cheek, kissing it softly as his girth split you open. A slick symphony echoed throughout the room each time his hips slammed against your own, and as your own cries were hushed, it was only the sinful sound of that, as well as Mr Barnes’ heavy breath and the occasional suppressed groans, that filled the office and lulled you into nothing short of a trance. 

With Bucky’s left hand that he had weaved into a clutch at the twinkle lights tangled at your front, the colourful glow illuminated the dark tattoos that marked up the back of it and caught your hazy gaze as he then tipped you over and layed you back down against the desk, his ruthless rhythm never faulting for a second. 

And as you layed there before him, the both of you creeping ever near to that inevitable end, you watched as his eyes drifted down your frame. From where the string of lights squished against the softness of your boobs, to where he spread your thighs apart further, letting him spot just how perfectly his fat girth sank into you, till finally settling on the dull bulge just above your glistening pussy. The imprint of his daunting size rocking within you, illuminated just sufficiently enough by the string of glimmering lights for his eyes to spot, bloomed a bright grin on his features and caused his hips to snap, feverously slamming his cock so deep inside of you that the tightly wound coil within you had no other choice but just to let go in a burst of vibrant hues. 

Once his length was throbbing inside of you and pumping you full of his cum, breathlessly he removed the gag, though barely let you fill your lungs with air before he locked his lips against your own, both of your smiles blurring the kiss with giggles as you made out sweetly. 

As Peter’s figure appeared behind you in the doorway to the little bathroom that shot off his room, his frame abrupted the bright morning light that streamed in through the window. 

Still only clad in a borrowed shirt, the hem rose up as you bent down over the sink to spit out the toothpaste foaming in your mouth, but just as you did, a quiet click revealed your boyfriend’s presence behind you. 

Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted the Polaroid camera, that you’d remembered to bring from your dorm room, firm in his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you muttered as you rinsed off your toothbrush. 

“Just growing my collection,” he smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he wafted the small photo the camera had spit out. 

“Hey, I brought that for capturing memories,” you snatched it back as you passed him, “not using all the film for nudes,” before bending down and stuffing it back into your bag. 

The lump of guilt that ached in your chest nearly persuaded you to spill everything to Peter long before you both got dressed and descended the stairs. 

Should you even tell him what had happened and hope for the best or had you just backed yourself into a corner so impossible that you had no other choice but to break things off with him? If that truly was so, then you couldn’t do it yet, not now, at least wait until January if that was the only option. 

Though as soon as you both entered the kitchen, the visage of Bucky fiddling with the coffee machine caused the unbearable knot to slowly melt away the longer that you gazed at him. 

“Hi Honey,” Peter’s mother came sauntering in from the dining room and flashed her son a smile before diving into a drawer for some cutlery on her mission to set up the breakfast table, “did you two sleep well last night?” 

“Yeah, I was out like a light,” your boyfriend uttered before his glance flickered to you, “this one however didn’t come to bed till really late.”

“Oh, did you have trouble falling asleep?” his mom found your eye. 

“Uhm, no,” your glance momentarily flickered to the broad back before the coffee machine, “I just–, uh, I was wrapping presents. Hope it’s okay that I borrowed some paper and stuff.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “if you want a caffeine boost, there’s a fresh pot of coffee,” and nodded in the direction of her husband, “and the mugs are up there.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m actually more of a tea drinker.”

“Well, we have some of that as well,” she tilted her head before crossing into the dining room once again, “take a look in the pantry.” 

Slipping down the narrow path between the central kitchen island and the line of counters, your body brushed against Bucky’s as you passed before crossing into the small storage room. Though as your gaze scanned the stocked shelves before you, a crinkle found your brow. 

“Wait, where is it?” your quiet voice seeped out of the pantry. 

“Up over the shelf where the cans are,” Peter tried to guide you before his stepfather shot him a glance. 

“I’ll help,” he murmured, “she’s probably too short to reach it anyway.”

You didn’t even have to peek over your shoulder to find out he was there as just the warmth of his presence radiating off of him was enough to cause your eyes to flutter closed and your lungs to be filled with a deep breath. Though when he pressed his wide frame against your spine, his low exhale seeping into your soul, a dull throb between your thighs bloomed as an underlying beat to his palms he then let glide over your waist before one shot up to tilt your chin and he craned his neck to plant a kiss to your lips. 

“Did you find it?” Peter’s voice from on the other side of the thin wall caused you to fumble away from his stepdad, nearly knocking over half the contents on one of the shelves at the jolt. 

“Yep! Yeah!” you squeaked, scrambling before Bucky reached above you, plucked a small box off a shelf, and placed the random tea in your fumbling hands, “I’ve–, uhm, yeah!” before you shuffled back out into the kitchen, “water, water…” you murmured as your eyes scanned the space. 

“Over there,” your boyfriend nodded to the electric kettle in the corner before he carried the stack of plates in his hands into the dining room. 

And as you boiled the water and brewed the tea, every chance Mr Barnes got to follow his heart, he grasped with both of his fists. If the others had momentarily stepped out of the room, or even if they’d just turned to face away, there he was at your side, suddenly much closer than what was appropriate for a parental figure of one’s partner to be. If he had the time, his touch would sneak down to tickle you over your clothes, or occasionally his lips would even find your neck and make you too dizzy to even care how risky his behaviour was.  

It even continued long after you’d joined the rest at the dining table as the last two seats remaining were slotted right next to one another, though this time, now that he had the table as a cover, the cocky bastard let his hand grow even more daring than before. 

When his touch teasingly travelled up your thigh before boldly darting straight to his goal and making you nearly choke on your herbal tea as he pressed down on the seam of your jeans, rubbing your throbbing clit through the rough fabric.

“Are you alright?” Peter’s mother cut off what she’d been blabbering about as you almost spit out the hot beverage. 

“Mhm,” you hastily nodded, attempting to keep a straight face as Bucky’s inked fingers kept up their bullying between your thighs, “just burned my tongue,” the mug met the table in a soft thunk, “I’m fine,” you breathed shakily and kept your gaze glued to the piece of toast on the plate before you. 

“Oh, well, blow on it next time,” she said before returning to the topic the secrets beneath the breakfast table had interrupted, “so, what do we think,” she sank her fork into a piece of orange, “should we head off to the Christmas market today or do that a different day?” 

The scent of warm spices wafted through the air from the cluster of booths, selling every scrumptious festive treat imaginable, right next to the windy entrance to a pen where children could ride some sturdy ponies from a local farm. 

“What if we all split up for a while?” Peter’s mother suggested as you all eyed the handcrafted goods displayed by the many snow-dusted stalls, “I know I may or may not have already spotted a few things I wanna buy in secret.”

“Good idea,” your boyfriend nodded as he let go of your mitten-clad hand, “should we meet back here in, what–, half an hour?” he gestured up to the grand Christmas tree, glowing in the centre of the market. 

“Sure,” Bucky’s voice rumbled, “then we can grab a bite afterwards.”

His stolen touches hadn’t become less bold after you’d left the house. From purposefully letting his palm graze against your boob when he’d helped you reach for your seatbelt in the car, to the numerous times at the market he’d yanked you around the corner of a rustic booth to steal a kiss. 

“You know,” Bucky’s voice suddenly tickled the shell of your ear as he found you standing before the line of small children, all waiting for a chance to meet the market’s Santa, “when I get you alone,” he whispered as your eyes lingered on the elderly man in the distance, all clad in red, “you can sit down on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas…”

“Oh yeah?” the corners of your lips tipped up into a smile, “will you also ask me if I’ve been naughty or nice?”

“Well, I already know the answer to that,” he chuckled before twisting you around to face him. 

The gentle giggle that billowed out from your lungs was swiftly silenced as the older man bent down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“Wait,” you suddenly pushed him back as the exposed nature of where you stood sank in, “not here,” and your eyes swiftly darted around the crowd in hopes that they wouldn’t land on anyone you knew, “someone might see.”

Snatching up his hand, you then tugged him with you as you crossed over the small square. Passing by a small ice-skating rink, your snow-crunching steps eventually led you into the maze-like wonder that was the Christmas tree lot. 

Soon, the make-out that blossomed between the dense pines snowballed into you on your knees, on the cold and needle-covered ground, with Bucky’s girth twitching in your grasp as you tilted your head to plant a sloppy trail of pecks down his heavy balls. 

If he hadn’t riled you up all morning, then you probably wouldn’t have desperately kneeled down before him in the middle of a crowded space, just because he’d made your brain melt so fiercely that your mouth itched to be used. That or perhaps you would still have found your way here on your own if he hadn’t given you a push, after all, it had been you who had simply told him to be on lookout before you snatched off one mitten, sank down in front of him and, without any further warning, freed his fat cock. 

As you let go of his sack with a pop, before you could crane back up to swallow his length, Bucky briefly bent down to steal a sloppy kiss before letting you get back to it, though when he broke the peck, a string of saliva keeping you connected a moment as he straightened back up, a soft frown tainted your features as you blinked up at him. 

“You stole all my spit,” you pouted as his lavish tongue had managed to lick up most of the gathered slickness you’d wished to glisten up his dick with. 

“Sorry,” a soft chuckle rumbled within his broad chest as he bowed down to grasp your chin. Prying your lips apart, he then let a dollop of his own saliva drop down and land upon your silky tongue. 

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as they wrapped around his thick girth. Marvelling up at him as you found a playful pace, he only granted himself a rare peek between his neck twisting from side to side, vigilantly keeping an eye out as you sucked him off. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as your drool gurgled up your bobbing. Lips ever parted, his fingers sneaked down to tangle themselves in your hair, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” he slowly brought your head back till only the tip stayed warm within your mouth, “though knowing you, you probably wouldn’t even pause if someone actually did wander this way,” a short hiss of pleasure flowed out of his lungs as your tongue silkily traced the bulbous head, “even if it was your little boyfriend, you’d probably just yank down his fly so you could choke on his cock as well…”

Squinting up at the dried orange slices strung up and decorating the living room window, you let out a contemplating hum before it morphed into an idea, “we could watch a movie?” 

“Ah,” Peter exhaled next to you on the couch, “I don’t know… what if we went for a walk? It just stopped snowing.”

“No, I don’t really have the energy left for that,” you shrugged, “plus it’ll be dark soon… I kinda just wanna take it easy the rest of today and eat as many of those cookies your mom’s baking while they’re still hot.” 

Glancing over his shoulder at the doorway leading into the kitchen, Peter then nodded, “alright, sure. We could put on some music or something.” 

“Uh!” an idea then stuck you and lit up your gaze, “and we could play a board game, or even better, do a jigsaw puzzle! Do you think you have one?” your body tilted a bit closer, “you have one, right?”

“I think we have more than one,” he cocked his head and got up from the couch, “how hard do you want it?”

“Pretty hard, but also not like impossible,” you breathed, “it would be nice if we finished it before the new year.”

“Alright, I’ll go find one,” his feet began to drag across the hardwood floor, “you go gather provisions. I think I just heard the timer in the kitchen go off.”

A gasp swiftly flowed out of you as you rushed to rise to your feet, “cookies!” before you darted along, leaving Peter to a soft chuckle as he went out into the entryway and popped open the large closet. 

Though as he slipped inside and shifted to switch on the lightbulb dangling above, near the top shelf that carried all of the games, his elbow collided with a few of the coats on the row of hangings off to the side, unfortunately knocking some of them to the ground. Among the casualties were both yours as well as Bucky’s, though when the jackets came tumbling down, a few items also came pouring out of the pockets. 

Glancing down at the polaroids at his feet, even though the backsides were staring up at him, Peter still assumed that they’d fallen out of your pocket. Plucking them up into his grasp, a smirk swiftly curved his lips as he flipped over the short stack to reveal the familiar visage of your nude form. And the deeper into the small pile he got, the more explicit they became. 

But when he reached one that captured you lying on your stomach and with your lips wrapped around a cock, the smile swiftly faded from his features as he caught sight of the hand that reached down from behind the camera to stroke your hair. His hand certainly didn’t have either a wedding ring nor a chillingly familiar tattooed pattern scrawled upon the skin. 

And as he shuffled the deck to reveal the last photo, his suspicions were confirmed as he was confronted with the visage of his stepfather railing you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom. The camera was in his one hand as he held your hazy gaze in the mirror, while the other one curved around to capture your tit, the soft peak decorated in droplets as you stuck out your tongue and let your drool drip down. 

And though confusion, rage and jealousy were the cocktail of emotions to first take over his body, the palpable tent in his jeans beckoned for his attention too and convinced him to take care of it, blindly pumping his dick till his load coated the photos in his palm. 

“Fuck…” he hissed as his stare stayed glued to the cum covered pictures, “…I guess I’ll need to have a little talk with my stepdad…”

“The whole house all to ourselves… however shall we pass the time?” 

Your giggle bounced off the kitchen tile as you hopped up to sit upon one of the counters, only moments after both Peter and his mother had driven off to do some last-minute holiday shopping. 

Leaning back against the kitchen island, Bucky crossed his arms over his burly chest and smiled, “I have a feeling that we’ll think of something to do.”

And that was how you ended up moaning on either sides of the kitchen. 

Though he only loosened his tie, popped open the first few buttons of his shirt and undid his belt to free his cock, you tore off everything except for the red lingerie your clothes unwrapped for him to see and led him to beg for the sheer mesh to stay clinging on your skin while you let your fingertips dip into the waistband. 

But before either of you could finish, the older man snatched you off the counter and hauled you into the living room. 

And as you both stood there, his arms around you keeping your dizzy form upright as he kissed you feverishly, his head then tilted back, a blooming smirk on his lips, before he uttered, “I have an idea…”

The idea in question involved his silky tie being secured over your eyes, a proposal you of course jumped at to outlive. 

Though as you stood there, one of your senses dulled as Bucky’s touch fluttered across your form, the smattering of pecks and caresses had you floating away to some far-off realm. In the blissful fog of it all, you lost track of his touch and swore on occasion that it didn’t add up, as sporadic kisses were planted in places not plausible from where you thought he stood, or his wide hands even seemed as if they weren’t just one pair. 

And as you tried to connect the dots, your fingers fluttered up to push the makeshift blindfold up to your forehead, and the visage that met your eyes promptly caused them to grow wide. 

“Peter!” you gasped as you came face to face with not only Bucky, but also your boyfriend, “I–, I–”

“Hey babe,” he simply breathed as both his own and his stepfather’s touch faded from your half-naked form. 

“Peter,” your heart hammered in your chest as tears began to blur your vision, “I am so so sorry. I–, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah? So you’re not sneaking around with my stepdad behind my back?” he kept your gaze captured in his, “baby, it’s–,” a sigh broke up his sentence, “I was about to say that it’s alright, but–,” a dry chuckle then bubbled out of his throat as it obviously wasn’t okay, before he then shook his head and got to the point, “we had a little chat, Bucky and I.”

“…you did?” you finally shifted your glance and let it flicker to Mr Barnes. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “we came up with a little arrangement so that we’d all get what we want.”

“So now all you gotta do is just tell the truth,” Peter’s fingers floated up to tug a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “did you just use me to get to him? Was anything about our relationship real?” he asked in a soft and sombre tone. 

“It was, it is,” you swore as you raised up your own palm to graze over his that still lingers by your jaw, “I may have lied to you about certain things, but my feelings for you were never one of them.”

“Okay…” your boyfriend’s head slowly began to rock in a nod. As he let you lace your fingers in with his own, another question left his lips, “so, do you think that heart of yours is big enough for the both of us?” 

Your vision then widened before it shifted between both of the men standing before you, “…are you suggesting–”

“Only if you want to,” Bucky tilted his head and awaited your answer. 

“I–,” you gasped as a grin slowly grew upon your lips, “oh my god!” and an uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of you. 

“Is that a yes?” Peter asked, his hand still in yours. 

“Yes! Yes, of course, it is!” you beamed before throwing your arms around him and crashing your lips against his own, only moments before you shifted to mirror the action with the older man still by your other side.

And as the kiss you pressed to Bucky’s lips stretched and drew out, it suddenly broke when he abruptly tossed you down to lay across the plush couch behind you. As he slotted in between your parted thighs and clutched the red mesh to the side in order to finally grant himself some of the sugar you’d teased him with moments before, your head sloped over the armrest before Peter appeared above you and bent down to claim your lips in a kiss to muffle the whine that flowed from them just as his stepdad stretched your open. 

Momentarily, Bucky plucked your hips up off the couch and drove them to meet his own, fucking you like a toy, before he let you drop back down and joined you on the sofa. 

And as the older man between your thighs spread them wider and granted himself the perfect view of how his staggering girth disappeared in your fluttering pussy, your boyfriend above you slid a hand under your head and tilted it closer to the length throbbing in his fist. 

Tapping his cock against your moan, it didn’t take long before he was buried in your mouth, each greedy thrust bringing him further down your throat till the imprint of his cock bulged in your neck. 

“That’s impressive,” Bucky commented on the way the younger man fucked your face, “why haven’t you shown me that party trick yet?” he hummed as Peter roughly yanked his dick back out and granted you the chance to catch your breath. 

Seizing the moment, Bucky flipped you around before your mouth could be filled once again, tossing you onto your knees and letting your forearms crash to the armrest, your head nearly falling face-first into Peter’s lap, lending him to catch you as he flashed the man behind you a grin, “you know that she does anal too, right?” 

A low groan then flowed from Bucky’s lungs as he let his broad thumb sweep across your little rosebud, “does she now…”

“Yep,” Peter grunted proudly, “she might even let us fuck both of her pretty holes at once if we’re real nice. She’s let me do that before with toys.”

“Of course she has,” Bucky chuckled lowly as he eased his fat cock back inside, “what do you say, kid? It is Christmas after all, I think we deserve something special.”

“I–, uhm,” you tried your best to answer him through the ecstasy they tossed you into, “sure.” 

“Attagirl,” Bucky croaked as his heavy balls tapped messily against your puffy pearl, “do you wanna pick who gets what honour?”

But before you could squeak out an answer, Peter instead uttered, “or we could make it a game, let you try and guess,” as his touch travelled up to tug at the blindfold still resting atop your brow. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[venusbyline]

Bucky Barnes — Christmas and Candies.

— summary: The former sergeant decides to spend some time living in London a few years after the war, to get rid of the memories that haunts him. Christmas is not a celebration he enjoys anymore, however, meeting a waitress at a bakery is the kickstart he needs to feel a little softer again for the first time.

— pairing: Bucky Barnes x waitress!reader

— type: fluff, angst, 1940s AU

— tags/warnings: female!reader, war veteran!Bucky, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), mental-health issues, strangers to lovers, pre-relationship, angst and hurt/comfort, Christmas fluff, implied cheating, emotional infidelity, hopeful ending, ambiguous/open ending, argument, social anxiety, post-World War II, no powers (and no Hydra or Winter Soldier), 1940s, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes: This is my first fic with a character from the MCU. Bucky's my fav and maybe I'll write more about him later hahaha. Anyway, Merry Christmas <3 <3 I love you guys, thanks for everything and I hope you have fun with your families and friends.

Bucky had decided to take some time away from the USA a few years after the war, some time for himself, to rest and try to get to know new places and new people.

At least, that is what he had said his family and friends when he told the news. He needed to stay away from the cruel memories involving everything that had happened in the war, try to get rid of everything that made him wake up desperate and in a cold sweat at dawn.

Get rid of the nightmares that plagued his mind all the time.

However, nothing would go right. The apartment that Bucky was renting for a limited time was a complete mess. The acoustics of the rooms were terrible and he found himself constantly complaining to himself about the noise that the neighbors on each side made. And even more irritating were the children's cries at the front door. Bucky did not know how to approach the neighbors and complain about the sleep deprivation he was experiencing because of their kids, so he decided to just keeping silent, at least for a while.

That morning, Bucky woke up frustrated and took a shower before deciding to buy something for breakfast at a nearby bakery. He had not slept well and the look of frustration was evident on his face as he walked the streets. The dark gray scarf did little to warm him from the annoying fog that hit his face with every step he took.

He had gotten used to being cold during the war, but he could not help but keep complaining about it inside his thoughts. He had never been the biggest fan of winter days, just as he was not the biggest fancier of celebrating Christmas anymore.

During his innocent times, Bucky liked to look at the Christmas decorations. Now, after everything he was forced to face, he found himself constantly frowning every time he saw someone on the streets happy with the arrival of that commemorative date.

"Happy Christmas Eve. How can I help you, sir?" A soft voice caught Bucky's attention and he barely realized he had entered a bakery. He frowned when he saw the pretty girl with a red scarf so vibrant and it almost made him turn around and walk away.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to ignore the discomfort with the color. Why did people like that damn red so much? It was just a stupid color to show love and passion, but in the former sergeant's eyes it only represented anger and reminded him of how much blood he had shed during the war.

How much blood he had been forced to watch his friends lose...

The girl remained looking at Bucky with a confused and excited expression at the same time, clearly not realizing how disturbed his mind was at that moment. Or at least pretending not to notice, perhaps due to a lack of empathy or simply to not make their situation even worse.

Bucky took a few deep breaths and finally managed to mutter. "A cream donut."

The sentence sounded with an absence of enthusiasm that made the waitress swallow hard, nodding with a raised eyebrow and then looking for a cream donut in the showcase. She could feel the man's eyes following her and every movement of her hands, poking his cheek with his tongue as he noticed that the donut had some red and green sprinkles on top.

"Don't you have a normal version of that fucking candy? Some version that doesn't look like Santa's elves threw up on it?"

The waitress' eyes widened at Bucky's sudden outburst, staring at him without knowing what to say other than looking at him as if he had just said the most cruel words in the world.

Bucky took a deep breath when he noticed how the girl had her hands shaking, confusion and a little anger written in her face, not knowing whether to put the donut on the plate or not. Guilt ate him alive when he noticed that his words had sounded angrier and louder than he expected. If it were before the war, Bucky would have excitedly entered the bakery, flirted with the cute waitress, bought several delicious and decorated candies, eaten them right there and flirted with the girl one more time before leaving.

The old version of him was a womanizer and philanderer. And his current version was nothing more than a traumatized asshole.

"You know what, doll... Forget it. You can put the candy back where it was before, I'll buy something at another bakery." He murmured, hoping that the nickname would soften his rudeness and his refusal to buy anything to eat there.

During the night, you finished selling the last candies and sighed in relief as the customers left. It was already more than ten o'clock at night and the need for a rest began to become clear on your face. Christmas Eve was always extremely busy at the bakery, and as much as you enjoyed the holiday, there was something strange about that night.

Maybe it was just the random man's rudeness during the morning, or maybe it was the feeling of emptiness and sadness that consumed your body every time you looked at the clock. You knew that your fiancé could not fulfill his agreement once again, and you could not help but feel quite melancholy when you realized that you were always falling for every stupid nonsense he promised.

When the door bell rang, revealing another customer entering, you sighed still facing away. "I'm already closing, sorry. There are no more candies to sell." You said with a cold and distant tone, wiping away the single tear that fell. There was silence after that and you frowned, crossing your arms as you looked back, sighing in frustration as you recognized the man standing there. "Oh, you again."

He nodded, his facial expression remained serious, however, his body language gave away his true emotions. "My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes. And... I was a soldier. A sergeant, actually..."

"Bucky Barnes." You tested the name on your tongue with some curiosity and looked back at him, completely confused. "May I know why you are standing in front of me now, telling me your name and your former career?"

Bucky took a deep breath, crossing his arms like you as if trying to portray a confident image of himself, someone who was not shaken, until he finally gave up on the stupid charade and sighed. "I was a jerk to you, miss. I'm sorry. I just... I know that's not a good excuse, but I'm still so traumatized from the whole war that I couldn't help but feel angry seeing the arrival of the Christmas. And you..." He ran his hand through his hair, sighing again, brushing the brown strands away from his angelic but sad face. "And you're so beautiful and in the morning you were really so excited about this damn date. I ended up stressing out about that, I'm truly sorry I took it out on you. You don't even know me, it wasn't fair to you and your bakery. "

Bucky's quick and objective explanation caught you off guard and you had your mouth open for a few seconds. You tried to take it as a simple apology from a traumatized former soldier. It was only fair that he apologized to you after his selfish rudeness...

However, you took a deep breath. You took another look at the clock, realizing that in fact your fiance was not going to come back to take you to his house. He had done that during the last two Christmas Eve. Your family tried to convince you that it was just a difficult phase in your relationship and that it was not worth breaking up with a rich man to remain single around the world and be talked about badly as if you were a whore.

And you tried. You tried so much. Sometimes even too much.

And now you were tired from maintain by yourself the perfect couple charade.

A sigh escaped your lips and you looked back at Bucky, a hint of curiosity in his tired blue eyes while you picked up a bag from behind the counter and moved yourself to the table next to Bucky, his gaze admiring your face and also admiring the light brown wool dress you wore, as well as the dark red sweater with your initial embroidered in a shade of gold, perfectly matching the scarf you had been wearing since the beginning of the day.

As soon as you took some pretty candies out of the bag, Bucky chuckled. "I thought you said they were all sold already, doll."

You shrugged, feigning some indifference. "I said. But these were for me to take and eat during Christmas Eve dinner. You cannot blame for that." You gave Bucky a light smile. "Anyway, if you're free tonight, we can celebrate together.'

His eyebrows rose with shock at your point and clear flirt despite the engagement ring on your hand. Even before the war, Bucky was not a man to get involved with committed women.

And despite everything, now he did not even blink when he joined you, returning your smile and waiting with some excitement while you arranged the desserts on the table. That was a very unlikely way to celebrate Christmas Eve, having dinner with an unknown waitress who he had been rude to just a few hours before. In fact, this scenario had never crossed Bucky's mind when he moved to London or when he decided to buy some food at your bakery in the morning. Despite how unusual and even funny the whole situation seemed, Bucky felt alive for the first time in a long time.

Celebrating the special night with you was much better than being locked up inside his own apartment, brooding over each of the traumas that haunted his mind, always consumed with melancholy and self-loathing. At least from that night onwards, he would have a reason to visit your bakery quite often.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Fourteen

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

Chapter Words: 1,364

Sorry for the long wait! I had a dental procedure, so I haven't felt like being on my pc. Enjoy! <3

It was the day before Jamie's first birthday and I was in the Avengers common room decorating. Bucky watched me, leaning against the wall, his eyes watching my every move. He tried to help, but I told him off for doing it wrong too many times. I hung streamers and balloons everywhere, the room was full of colour. His arms were crossed and a look of amusement was over his face as he watched me. 

"Can't believe our girl is gonna be one" I mutter, knowing he could hear me still. Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Me neither, it feels like you were only just pregnant and now we have a one year old" He adds. 

"I know, it feels so sad, but so happy at the same" I say finishing up the last of the decorations. Bucky walks over to me, standing behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me close to him. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second, feeling him, allowing myself a moment to breath and feel content for a moment in his arms. 

"Yeah, it's bittersweet, happy to see how much she's grown, sad that she's growing up fast" He mumbles, his words soft as he speaks. 

"I know, I love our girl" I add. I feel him hug me a little tighter, his chest pressed against my back, his body wrapping around mine protectively. 

"Our little girl, our Jamie" Bucky whispers. 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And then, it was the next day, the Avengers were in the common room with us, minus a few whom were on missions. And Jamie, was sat on the floor surrounded by way too many toys. She giggled happily playing with her new things. I bit my lip smiling widely. Bucky sat on the floor by Jamie, helping her play. I watched him fondly, his eyes shone with pride and fatherly love as he watched her. He glances my way, smiling widely at me. 

"Happy birthday sweet girl" I whisper to her as I stroke her hair softly. I watched as she grabbed another toy and turn to wave it in my face, excitement over her face. 

"Wow baby, that's so cool" I smiled to her. Jamie continued to grab toys and show me, a little giggle would leave her lips when I told her they were cool. 

"What one is your favourite?" I asked her, Jamie looked from me to her toys, she grabbed the little fuzzy bear plush she was gifted and held it close to her chest, cuddling it. 

"And who got you that baby?" I asked. Bucky smirked and reached to Jamie pulling her close to his chest "Dada got you that sweet girl" He grinned. 

"Yeah he did" I smirked, watching Bucky cuddle her close to him. 

"So when's the next baby due?" Sam asked, I looked over to him glaring slightly. Bucky choked on his breath slightly, his eyes widening in surprised, he looked over to me. 

"There isn't one, thank you very much" Bucky says. 

"And there won't be one" I add. Bucky looks grateful at my words, which made me feel better, we hadn't spoken about it, but I didn't want anymore. 

"Yeah, no plans for any more kids, Jamie's enough for us" Bucky says, smiling down at her. 

"And birth was traumatising, I never want to go through that again" I add, cringing at the memory. Bucky nods in agreement, the same cringing look over his face. He reaches to me, resting his hand on my leg, calming me down, I shake the memory from my head and smile down at him and Jamie. Sam luckily didn't answer us after that, he looked like a kid that had just been told off. 

Finally we sang to Jamie and had her birthday cake, Bucky and I helped her blow the candles out, since she had no clue what to do. We gave her a piece of the cake, it was the first time she had sugar so I was a little nervous, but she devoured it, making a huge mess of herself in the process. She had icing all over her face, her hands were sticky and there were cake crumbs everywhere. Bucky looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. 

"Seems like our girl likes cake" He chuckles. 

"She's so goofy" I giggle, taking a picture of her. Bucky grins, enjoying the sight of her covered in cake just as much as I was enjoying it. 

"She sure is....And messy, but it's her birthday, so it's allowed!" Bucky smiles fondly at Jamie. 

"Dibs not bathing her!" I call out, smiling widely at Bucky. He looks at me with a fake grumpy face. 

"Oh no doll, no way! You've got this one, I'll take diaper duty any day over bathing sticky sugar off her!" 

"I'll take that!" I grin, fisting the air, Bucky grins back his eyes full of amusement. 

"You sure about that? You know she's gonna splash, get water and bubbles everywhere?" He asks. 

"Yeah, but she's gotta poop that cake out, and now that's a you problem" I say smirking. Bucky groans, his expressing turning comically pained at the thought. 

"Oh god... I take it back! I'd rather deal with the war of bubbles than poopy diapers" He groans. 

"Too late!" I smile poking my tongue out. Bucky laughs and shakes his head in defeat. My eyes went back to Jamie, who was licking the icing off her arm. Everyone laughed, happy to see Jamie so happy and enjoying her birthday. Once the birthday excitement was over, I was in the bathroom with Jamie, she laid in her tiny bath inside the bath as I washed the cake from her brown hair. 

"So messy" I mutter, she giggles and squirms in the bath, splashing the water everywhere, she reached for one of her bath toys and splashed it against the water causing it to land on me. 

"Silly girl, I guess dada was right, wasn't he?" I said fondly to her. She splashes me again, Bucky then appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorway, watching the two of us with a smile. 

"I told you, messiest baby ever" He grins. 

"Don't listen to dada" I say to Jamie as I pour more water over her hair. Bucky feigns hurt, his hand pressing against his chest as he pretends to be wounded. I giggled softly looking at him, our eyes meeting, playfulness in both sets. 

"Dada" A little voice just spoke, I looked to Jamie, my eyes wide. Bucky moved from the door to crouch next to me, we both looked at Jamie, shock in our eyes, smiles on our lips. 

"Did she just... Doll, did she just say dada?" Bucky asks, his voice higher than usual.

"She did...Jamie, say it again" I said, stroking the baby's cheek softly. "Say dada"

"Dada!" She giggled saying it again, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting from both me and Bucky. Bucky held his hand to his chest, his mouth open in shock. He looked like he might cry. 

"Oh Bucks, her first word" I say, tears burning my eyes. Bucky's eyes grew misty, his voice a little choked with emotion.

"Yeah doll, her first word...and it's dada!" He grins proudly. 

"Yeah baby...dada...now say mama" I giggle to Jamie, she looks from Bucky to me, her little face scrunching, she babbles for a moment. 

"Dada" She giggles. Bucky lets out a shaky laugh. 

"No baby, mama" I giggle, Bucky joined in saying mama to her. Finally after a little bit of trying, Jamie said mama. She said it with such excitement in her voice, enjoying me and Bucky giggling with her. Bucky and I cheered her when she said it, she was snuggly in her bathrobe when she finally said it, clinging to both me and Bucky whilst we sat on the couch. We spend the evening giggling as she called mama and dada. 

"We've got a talkie girlie now love" Bucky grins. 

"Yeah we do Bucks" I say smiling as I cuddled Jamie close to me. 

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula @buckitostan @knyaotjjkbiatch

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Imagine... (‘there's only one of these left and I need it more than you’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 20 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (500w) Established relationship. Fluff. Smut.

Imagine Bucky joining you in the shower. You slipped in while he was still sleeping, needing to start your day, and he comes in not five minutes later, lamenting your absence, trying to convince you to stay home. Promises of a lazy day in bed together are tempting, but things are just too busy at work - it doesn’t feel fair to saddle someone else with more responsibility because you want to spend time with your boyfriend. Bucky doesn’t immediately press the issue, deciding to appreciate what little time he does have with you, pulling you into his embrace under the hot spray. You eagerly welcome his touch, sharing playful good morning kisses in between washing off, his hands never leaving your body. Once you’re squeaky clean, there’s no delaying the inevitable, your intimate shower soon coming to an end. Your disappointing pout leads to more kisses, Bucky wishing he could erase all the stressors from your life, your happiness essential to his own. The least he can do is send you to work relaxed, his hand finding its way between your wet thighs, the water droplets soon mixing with your arousal. There isn’t much time, but Bucky doesn’t need it, his mouth sucking on your neck adding to the growing tension in your belly, his skilled touch working you towards a quick orgasm. His soft growl about how good you feel sends you spiraling, his name escaping your lips as your body shudders against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. It leaves you wanting more, his thick fingers stroking that spot deep inside of you that has you gasping, trying to prolong your pleasure as long as possible. And then you’re left empty, his mouth covering yours to drown out your needy whine, his erection trapped against your stomach, his own desire for more being momentarily ignored. There are more pressing matters, like getting you to agree to take the day off, a devious plan springing to mind as he reaches over to finally shut off the water. Before you can read the grin growing on Bucky’s face, he’s jumping out of the shower to grab the single towel hanging on the rack, calling out that he needs to feed Alpine. He ignores your initial shout of his name, your laughter dampening your actual irritation at being left dripping wet, in every sense of the term. It’s not until he hears “James Buchanan Barnes!” that he reappears, sporting an innocent smile and the damp towel secured on his hips. When his hungry gaze roams your naked body, you narrow your eyes at him, demanding a towel to dry off. Bucky has a better idea, offering to lick off every drop instead, starting with the one currently following the curve of your breast. Whatever argument you’re preparing dies on your tongue, quickly resigned to the fact that you’ll forever be weak to his advances. Besides, it's not like work can't survive without you for a couple of hours anyway.

Day 19 | Imagine… Masterlist | Day 21

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

[itseverydayfanfic]

i could cry bc this is so beautiful and SO accurate

bucky barnes who doesn’t trust unless it comes to you. whose eyes soften at the sight of you, because his heart knows that it’s okay to let his guard down. he believed the world always had its claws out to get him, until he fell straight into your gentle arms. he tells you the word love meant nothing to him until you came along.

bucky barnes who would live for you. the winter soldier would kill for anyone, the white wolf would die for anyone, but bucky would live for you. he’s never believed in fate, but if it wasn't destiny that brought you to him, he doesn’t know what it was. he thinks maybe it was all worth it, the trauma and the scars and the pain, if it all lead up to the moment when you told him i love you.

bucky barnes who searches for you even in nightmares, screams your name till his lungs burn with self-hatred. you’re his safe space, his home. he’s drawn back to wakefulness as soon as he feels your touch, the gentleness of your breath on his skin like an aching balm to his wounds. he’ll never stop apologising for the burden that comes with his affection, yet he won’t ever stop loving you.

bucky barnes who thinks of hurting you as no less than a sin. who believes even pulling out a single strand of your hair is a hundred times worse than every murder committed as the winter soldier. because what’s a few dozen people in comparison to his whole universe?

bucky barnes who wakes up a little earlier in the morning; not to see the sun rise, but to watch the soft rays dapple your face. he thinks you look angelic, the golden hue painting you in so much beauty that he feels blessed; wonders if he oughts to start praying to gods he never once believed in.

bucky barnes who tells you he loves you more times than he can count. whose voice is hardened from years of tortured, ragged cries; but the word doll tumbles out of his lips like soft petals when he looks at you. he knows seven different tongues, and is fluent in every single one. he claims that none of them have the words to describe how you make him feel.

bucky barnes who kisses like a hungry dog, like there’s an ache in his soul that can only be filled by the feeling of your lips on his, skin to skin. he believes the sole purpose of his metal arm is to pin you to the wall. roughness is the only form of love he’s ever known.

bucky barnes who buys you everything you talk about in passing, who takes you out wherever your heart yearns to go, who kisses your knuckles with the softest touch of his lips. he inhales when you exhale at night to make space for the rise of your chest. he only ever holds your hand with his non-metal one so as to not hurt you. he traces your features while you sleep. he loves you with the full force of the word, because you’re his girl.

bucky barnes who could never unlove you, would never want to. even if the strings of his soul were tied to another, he would cut them off and run straight to you.

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[navybrat817]

I would give Bucky anything he wanted if he let me bite his thigh. Just once. A nibble.

Can you imagine making a game out of it, nonnie? You just let it slip one day how amazing his thighs are and how you want to bite one. Or both.

"Okay. What'll you give me?"

"...What?"

"If I let you bite my thigh, what'll you give me in return? Do I get to bite one of yours?"

"...I-"

"And what'll I get if I let you ride one? 'Cause I doubt you want me humping your leg, but I bet you'd love it if I fucked your thighs and made you beg for me to really fuck you."

...I'm sorry. Nothing to see here. Go about your business!

Love and thanks! ❤️