#bucky barnes x you

[drdawnbreaker]

Here me out. Right after Bucky has finally settled into a routine at the compoud with the others now that he's a free man. He slowly starts to explore hobbies again and pick up old habits he used to have when he was younger in the 40s. One of those, being smoking.

Now, I'm not saying smoking is not good for you. And Bucky knows thats, but fuck does it feel nice to have a smoke right after a mission. One with a glass of whiskey and a vintage vinyl lowly playing as he sits spread leg on his nice leather sofa that Sam and Nat helped him buy.

And when he met you, oh he was fucked. You quickly became his little devil on his shoulder. He'd have a cigarette after sex (pun intended) with you, and he swore He'd never felt more relaxed. After a long mission, you could taste the whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, driving you to ride him until he was near past out. He thought you were everything he needed in his life...

Until you convinced him to try weed. Oh boy. The team thought he was a different person the one time they caught him high. His filter, gone. His sass, tripled. and his sex drive... through the fucking roof!! He has you bent over the back of the couch, blunt between his plump lips as he pounds into your dripping cunt. Your fogged brain high and happy as you feel Bucky send you over the edge again and again. Both of you would be fucking like rabbits before, either A) you both pass out. Or B) someone would come looking for you two. God forbid the poor sap that walks in on you two going at it.

Double points if it's steve. He's either joining or becoming a tomato and running away. Noting in-between.

[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

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[freakrenaissance]

This entire series had me in a freaking chokehold!! Oof. So hot, & so sweet. I was afraid virgin bucky would be too soft? Noooope! Oh, that filthy mouth 🥵 & that pegging installment? Off the charts fantastic stuff... go read all the fics, you guys!!

Untouched

18+ Minors dni

Virgin college Bucky x Virgin college reader (Steve’s sister) 

A/N: Wanted to write something with both Bucky and the reader learning together, will probably add another part cause I love them. Please leave all the comments, reblog and like! <3 

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, fluff

Word count: 4.2k hehe sorry 

Also part of this AU: Tongue Twister, Date night, Tipsy 

You trudged down the hall wondering why you brother had sent you an SOS text message, stating it was an immediate emergency at 12:30 AM forcing you out of the deep sleep you were in. You opened his room door, groaning at the ridiculousness that was taking place yet again this month.

Steve and his friends were in the middle of a very important Call of Duty game and given the seriousness, they had to have both hands on the controllers at all time.

Keep reading

[simplyholl]

Home For Christmas

Summary: When your mom puts pressure on you to bring a boyfriend home for Christmas, you turn to Bucky for help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Southern F. Reader

Warnings: Reader is Southern. Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Fake dating. Maybe a little blasphemous? Fingering in a church. Getting fucked by a peppermint stick.

*A/N: I am Southern. I couldn’t get the idea of bringing Bucky home to the South for Christmas out of my head so this was born. Sorry if this is shit. I’m just getting back into writing again.

Mammaw = grandma

Pappaw = grandpa

^^ this is the peppermint sticks I’m talking about in the fic. I don’t know what they are really called.

See My Masterlist Here

The compound was bustling with Avengers and employees getting ready for the holidays. Everyone was going home or leaving with another member of the team. Everyone except for Bucky. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time.

He is a grumpy asshole usually, so you just avoided him. You didn’t blame him for his behavior, you’d be the same if you were tortured and brainwashed by Hydra for decades. But the thought of him being alone in the huge, empty walls of the Avenger Compound pulled at your heartstrings. You couldn't leave without extending an invitation to him. There was an ulterior motive too. You were nice but he was a lot to deal with. He was sitting alone in the common room, reading a book when you approach him.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" You ask, looking a little weary as you walk towards him. He raises an eyebrow, locating his bookmark and placing it inside his book as he closes it. "So I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I couldn't leave without asking. Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?" Bucky's eyebrows furrow together as he looks at you. "You're serious?" He asks, resting his chin on his fist.

You nod your head, waiting for his answer. "Why would I want to do that?" It was a fair question; one you had even expected. "I just thought you might want to have some company, have a home cooked meal. Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone." He looks at you suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

You bite your lip, damn he was good at reading you. “Okay, you got me. So my momma has been hounding me about finding a nice man and settling down. Which is crazy. I’m an Avenger and that’s not enough for her. But she is dead set on grand babies and planning a wedding. So I might have lied and told her I had a boyfriend to get her off my back. I also might have told her I’d be bringing him home with me. So, if you come with me maybe you could help me out and pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Bucky laughs, a low gutteral sound escaping him. “No way in hell, princess.” He smirks. “I’ll stay here, order takeout, and get a break from all of you idiots. Why would I want to go home with you and play the part of your doting boyfriend? We barely talk.” You sigh. He made a good point. And if the shoe was on the other foot, you wouldn’t want to help him either.

But you were desperate. You didn’t want to disappoint your mom. She was really excited that you had a serious boyfriend. So you sink to your knees in front of Bucky, putting on the biggest pouty face you could muster. You bat your eyelashes and try to work up a few tears, but they wouldn’t come. “Please Bucky, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You look into his blue eyes hoping this would work. There had to be something he wanted. Then you saw it, a little flicker of something in his eyes. “Anything?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. Name it and it’s yours. I’ll do your laundry for a month. I’ll scrub your suit after missions. I’ll cook all your meals. Whatever you want.”

Bucky smiles wolfishly at you, his flesh hand coming up to your face. He cups your cheek, looking into your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your lips. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip as he holds his gaze on you. “So I go home with you, spend Christmas with your family and pretend I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes, my very serious boyfriend who could pop the question at any time.” I add making sure he knew what I expected. “Fine, I’ll do it.” You look a little surprised but quickly hide it. You thought it would take more convincing. “But I want boyfriend privileges.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, a confused expression on your face. “It means if I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend I get to enjoy everything a boyfriend would, including having sex with you.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “You want to have sex with me? You don’t even like me.”

“You’re right. But I want you. If you want me to play the part then that’s my condition.” You don’t have to think about it, not really. You have eyes. Bucky is a handsome man. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sleep with him too. But you didn’t want him to know you were eager so you pretended like you were thinking about his offer. Instead you were thinking about his metal hand wrapped around your throat. “Deal.” You stick your hand out to him and he shakes it.

You were an idiot. That was the only explanation you had. You were five hours into a ten and a half hour car ride. The gps kept adding minutes to the trip and traffic was crazy. You should have booked a flight, but you wanted to drive. Now, you were dealing with an aggravated super soldier who was cussing the other drivers on the interstate. You didn’t dare complain when he went over the speed limit or when he gave the finger as he was passing another car. But you did sneak glances every few seconds at him.

He was so hot all riled up like this. The blue vein in his neck throbbing, the wild look in his eyes, the death grip he had on the steering wheel. You had to hold yourself back from offering to blow him right here in the car.

The trip down south was long and almost torturous. When Bucky wasn’t yelling at the other drivers, he was fighting with you. But you survived. When you see the big sign welcoming you to your home state, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You point out all your old hang outs, telling Bucky stories about your childhood as you drove through your town. Finally, he pulls into your driveway. Your Mom’s, Mammaw’s, and Aunt’s houses were all decorated for Christmas. You loved that they were all neighbors. Most of your family lives pretty close by.

You get out of the car, letting the cool air hit you. You take in your surroundings. The trees were bare from shedding their leaves but it was still beautiful here. Bucky gets out doing the same. You both carry your bags to your old childhood bedroom that your mom had set up to accommodate the two of you. You give Bucky a tour since nobody was home. He stops to look at the big Christmas tree with presents underneath. He looks at the ornaments, turning over one you had made in Sunday School when you were a little girl. He looks like he is about to make some smart ass remark when he freezes.

His eyes land on something and you follow his gaze to the stockings your mom hung up. They were all red velvet with your family’s names embroidered in gold cursive on them. They were all filled to the brim, some candy poking out of the top. Bucky touches one gently, a look of disbelief on his face. Then you see it too. Your mom had gotten him a stocking. It was hung right beside yours. And in the same gold letters as everyone else’s, ‘Bucky’ was on it and it was overflowing more than the others.

“I’ve never had a stocking like this.” He admits quietly. “We were poor and my ma just got us oranges and apples. She would bake a cake and we might get one gift . A toy gun for me, a doll for my sister. Nothing like this.” You grab his flesh hand, rubbing your thumb along the top of it. You’re interrupted when your mom comes in. Her eagle eyes on your hand in Bucky’s, a huge smile on her face.

You run to her, giving her a big hug. “Momma, this is my boyfriend, Bucky.” You gesture to him, and he walks over shaking her hand. “I’m James Barnes, ma’am. But you can call me Bucky.” He flashes her a huge smile and she blushes. You roll your eyes. He was really laying it on thick.

After you caught up with her and Bucky answered all of her questions, you all go over to your Mammaw’s house. She was watching Bonanza on tv. She loves those old western shows. She and Bucky talked for ages about them. Apparently, he was a fan too. You and your mom carried in wood for her stove while he kept her company. “We are gonna have to borrow the neighbor’s wood splitter again. We have almost used up all her chopped wood.” Your mom tells you.

“I can split it.” Bucky offers. You give him a surprised look. “You will?” He nods his head. “Just show me where everything is. I’ll take care of it.” You shrug and take him outside. Showing him where he can bust the wood. You give him a an axe and some old work gloves before heading inside to watch westerns.

After an hour, you go outside to check on him and bring him some water. When you go back in, you find your mom and Mammaw at the window giggling like school girls. “What?” You ask. Your mom motions you over and you look out the window just in time to see Bucky take his black henley off. His muscles are slick with sweat. He swings the axe down forcefully and the muscles in his back move sinfully. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

You hear your Mammaw gasp as he continues chopping the wood. Your mom pats you on the back, “You did great, honey.” You giggle, actually giggle. You can’t help it. He looks incredible and you’re glad he came up with the whole sex idea or else you would put your pride aside and beg him to fuck you. He busts the last piece, propping the axe up against the wood pile and heading toward the house. You’ve never seen your Mammaw run so fast to get back in her rocking chair.

You take Bucky to visit your Pappaw. He showed him his gun collection. Which you think was his way of threatening him. Your pappaw sends you out to get lunch for everyone, but keeps Bucky there with him. You’d love to be a fly on the wall. Pappaw is probably giving him the whole ‘what are your intentions with my granddaughter’ talk. When you left, he shook Bucky’s hand and told you he was a fine young man. So their talk must have went well.

The next night, you and Bucky were going with your mom to watch the church Christmas program. That was one thing about your mom, she raised you to be a Southern Baptist and you were expected to go to church if you were home. This time was no different. You put on a long sleeve dress, fix your hair, and put on a little mascara. Bucky is wearing dark jeans and a long sleeve button up. Your sister, her boyfriend, your Mammaw and your Pappaw were all at the church too. They sat on your mom’s usual pew, three up from the back on the left side.

There wasn’t any room for you and Bucky so you sat behind them. The church was unusually full, but they were expecting a lot of people to come. That’s what happens when there’s a Christmas program and a dinner afterward. People loved free food. All the little old ladies you went to church with your whole life came over to gawk at Bucky.

They were giving him peppermints and hard candies from the bottoms of their pocket books. They were hugging him, and feeling his muscles. They all told you how good you had done in getting a man like him. They told him how handsome he was. They pinched his cheeks. And one even pretended like she needed help walking back to her pew. But you had seen her just moments ago running over to scold a child who was trying to stick his finger in the cake she baked for after the program. Bucky took her arm and led her to the front of the church. Her grip on his muscled arm tight the whole time.

Finally the choir started singing and the program begins. You shivered, regretting your decision to not wear tights. The temperature in the church varies. It was either freezing or you were sweating. You grab a blanket off the back of your mom’s pew and laid it on your lap. You scoot closer to Bucky, hoping his body heat would help.

The children get up to start their part of the program. Bucky lifts the blanket and puts it over his left side, his metal hand underneath it. Your breath hitches when you feel the cold metal of his hand on your bare thigh. You look at him questioningly. He smiles and winks then turns his attention back to the children singing. His hand moves higher until it stops at the edge of your panties. Your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his, a silent plea to stop.

He reaches over with his flesh hand and moves your hand away. He moves his cool fingers under your panties, sliding them against your center. He gathers your slick, bringing it up to your clit and swirling his vibranium thumb. You grip his thigh and try to pay attention to the program. He slides two fingers inside you and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that escapes you. You’ve never been more thankful for the kids’ loud off key singing.

You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you. Thankfully everyone is watching the program or taking pictures of the kids. You lay your head against his shoulder, making it look like you were cuddling your boyfriend enjoying the Christmas show. When you were really just trying to hide your face as it contorts in pleasure. Bucky’s fingers set a brutal pace as his cool thumb worked your clit. It was all too much. How he looked yesterday chopping the wood, how everyone loved him, the way he was taking you apart in the one place he absolutely shouldn’t. One more curl of his fingers and swipe to your clit and you were falling apart on Bucky’s fingers in church with your face buried in his shirt.

Finally your last day home arrived, Christmas Day. Your mom made a huge breakfast that your family came over to eat. Then you sat in front of the tree to open presents. You all started with your stockings. Truthfully, you were more excited to watch Bucky open his than to see what was in yours. He dumped it out. Candy, chocolates, candy canes, all kinds of treats spilled on the floor. Bucky’s whole face lit up in a smile. He had never looked more handsome.

He opened the gifts your mom got him, a couple shirts and a watch. He thanked her graciously. Then you hand him the gift you were eager to surprise him with. You ordered it online and had it shipped to your mom’s house and she wrapped it for you. He looks surprised as he opens it, a record player and some old records you had to pay an arm and a leg for. They were hard to find too. You asked Steve what music Bucky liked back in the day and you searched for days to find them on vinyl.

He pulls you in for a hug. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He whispers in your ear. You hold him tighter. The rest of the day is spent watching Christmas movies and eating cookies. Your mom set up a hot chocolate bar on the table with marshmallows, whip cream, sprinkles and peppermint sticks. It was a cute idea she got from Pinterest.

That night, you hug your mom goodnight as she heads to bed. You and Bucky stay up a little longer. Bucky was acting a little weird. He went out to the shed where your mom stored her Christmas decorations and he was being secretive. When you asked about it, he told you it was a surprise. So you stopped asking questions and tried to finish watching The Year Without A Santa Claus. When it was over, you went to your childhood bedroom where Bucky had been for a while.

“Can I come in yet?” You ask as you stick your head in the doorway. When Bucky nods, you shut and lock the door behind you. “Strip.” He commands. You don’t hesitate. You would walk on hot coals barefoot if he asked you to. You place all your clothes in a pile on the floor and stand bare before him. “Get on the bed.” He gestures with his vibranium finger. You lay down and watch as he pulls something out from under the bed. Old Christmas lights that your mom didn’t use this year.

Bucky must have been in here untangling them. He holds your wrists above your head and wraps the lights around them. Then he brings it down your arms and to your chest. He binds it around your breasts and over your stomach. You try to move your wrists, but it’s too tight. Not enough to hurt but maybe a little uncomfortable.

He stands at the foot of the bed admiring you. “Perfect.” He grabs the mug of peppermint sticks your mom had set out off the dresser, twirling one between his fingers. He lays on the bed between your legs pressing a kiss to inside your thigh. You feel his scruffy cheeks against your thighs and you shiver. He leans his head down and licks up your center. Bucky’s flesh hand grabs your thigh, spreading your legs wider.

He looks up at you from between your thighs. His blue eyes never leaving yours as he puts the peppermint stick in his mouth. He twirls it between his lips, getting it wet. He removes it with a plop, and he brings it down, sliding it inside you with ease. His warm tongue flicks your clit, the peppermint making it tingle.

You moan as he swirls his skilled muscle around you. Bucky works the peppermint stick slowly moving it in and out. Each time he puts it back inside you, he angles it to reach that spot that makes you see stars and your toes curl. He rolls his tongue over you as he pumps the peppermint stick faster.

You arch your back and try to get closer to him. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair while he tastes you. But you can’t move your arms because of the Christmas lights he tied you with. Bucky removes the peppermint stick and brings it to his mouth, sucking your arousal off it. He moans, looking in your eyes as he slurps you off it.

He lowers his head again, his now icy mouth closing around your clit. He sucks you between his lips, his tongue flicking against it gently. You writhe underneath him as he holds your hips down with his metal arm. He slides the peppermint stick back inside you as his lips tug your clit. He moans against you and that’s your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm crashes through you, wrecking you. Bucky keeps up the good work until your shuddering subsides.

The next morning, you both tell your family goodbye. Bucky packs all your belongings into the car and you start the long journey back to the compound. This time instead of yelling at the other drivers, Bucky holds your hand the whole way. “I can’t wait to come back next year.” He tells you with a huge smile on his face.

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[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.

[drdawnbreaker]

Ahhhh im sobbing

Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

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It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."

[ailoda]

updated: 21.12.24

ᯓ★ mob!au

Run For Your Life (❤✘): he was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: stalking tendencies)

Passionfruit (❤✘): you spend a well deserved lazy day with your mafia husband and son… plus Bucky getting a little handsy. (@kurogxrix)

Look Don't Touch (❤): you accidentally walk onto your husband and his men during a meeting, clad in nothing else but a tight-fitting top and a baby in your arms. The sight is enough to send the many men drooling, but Bucky reminds them that you’re only his to look at, and will always be. (@kurogxrix)

The Alchemy (❤❅✘): about a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart? (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, possessive behaviours)

4 Minutes (✘): you and Bucky had limited time to spend intimately during the past few days, leaving you both extremely sexually frustrated. When your son’s occupation offers you 4 minutes of free time, Bucky’s damn adamant on making your legs shake in less than 3. (@kurogxrix)

Protector (❤✧): ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with. (@cherryrogers) (warning: mild violence, assault, stalking, mentions of illness, death)

Honey, There Is No Right Way (❤❅✘): when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him. (@bonky-n-steeb)

A Love For The (P)ages (❤): Bucky might be the baddest mob boss in the city but he’s the softest and sweetest husband in the Universe. (@jobean12-blog)

Stealing Hearts (❤❅✘): his mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. (@sinner-as-saint)

Come Home (❤✘): Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you… (@sinner-as-saint)

I Am Your Fall (❤❅✘): you’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because… he would find you, and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you, after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. (@sinner-as-saint)

Fallin' For Ya (❤): Bucky finds himself standing in front of your door with a bouquet of roses, wondering when he’s ever allowed his stone-cold mafia heart to fall in love with you. (@kurogxrix)

Yours To Wield (❤❅✘): with the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war. (@sinner-as-saint)

new! Lover Boy (❅✘): it's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky. (@cryptidcasanova)

new! Starting Over (❤❅): when Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending. (@sashaisready)

[bandsofmarv]

Shielded heart

After breaking up with you months ago Bucky realises he can’t live without you after seeing you on a date.

Angst, smut.

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but this time, it wasn’t just unwelcome—it was infuriating.

You’d barely stepped out of your heels when it came, loud enough to make you jump. You froze, your hand gripping the back of the couch as you stared at the door. Only one person knocked like that.

Your blood boiled as his voice broke through, low and angry. “Y/N, open the damn door.”

You didn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. “Go away, Bucky,” you called out, your voice sharper than usual.

“No.” His reply was immediate and clipped. “We need to talk. Now.”

You stormed to the door, your date still fresh in your mind, the laughter and warmth of the evening now overshadowed by the man standing on the other side of the threshold. You yanked the door open, meeting his stormy blue eyes with a glare.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped. “And you don’t get to show up here like this.”

Bucky looked furious, his hair disheveled, his leather jacket unzipped like he’d rushed over. “Like hell there isn’t,” he growled, his eyes narrowing. “Who was he?”

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to let him see how much his question rattled you. “None of your business,” you said coldly, crossing your arms.

“The hell it isn’t,” Bucky snapped, stepping closer. “You think I don’t notice you dressing up? Smiling like that? I saw you, Y/N. With him.”

His words hit you like a slap, the possessiveness in his tone making your anger spike. “You saw me?” you repeated, incredulous. “What, are you stalking me now? You have no right—”

“I have every right,” he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours!” you shot back, your voice rising. “You left me, Bucky! You don’t get to walk out of my life and then act like you have a claim to me.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice strained. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said bitterly. “You hurt me, Bucky. You broke me. And now, what? You see me on a date and suddenly you care?”

“That’s not what this is,” he said, his voice softening, but the tension in his frame remained.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, taking a step closer, your anger boiling over. “You only care now because you’re jealous. Because for once, I wasn’t sitting at home, waiting for you to decide you were ready to come back.”

His expression cracked, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I know I don’t deserve you. But seeing you with him? I couldn’t—I can’t—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you interrupted, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to show up here and act like you own me just because you don’t want anyone else to.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped even closer, the heat between you palpable. “I don’t just want you, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “I need you. And no one—no one—can love you like I can.”

You sucked in a breath, your anger mixing with the undeniable pull you still felt toward him. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I’m not walking away again,” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You can hate me all you want, but I’m not giving up. That guy you were with? He’ll never know you like I do. Never touch you the way I can.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing against the walls you’d built around your heart. “Bucky—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice rough and desperate. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

For a moment, you stood frozen, torn between anger and the deep ache you still felt for him. But as much as you wanted to slam the door in his face, a part of you couldn’t. A part of you didn’t want him to leave.

Bucky had made the decision for you before you knew it he was on you, his hands cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was desperate and all-consuming, every ounce of frustration, jealousy, and longing poured into it. You should have pushed him away, reminded him of the boundaries you’d just set—but you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backed you against the wall. His body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him as his hands roamed down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Bucky—” you gasped when he pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Don’t say anything,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive. “Just let me prove it to you.”

You shivered as his teeth grazed your skin, his metal hand sliding under your shirt to splay across your back, pulling you even closer. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head so he could look into your eyes.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You think some guy can make you feel like this? Touch you the way I do?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stole the words from your lips. His fingers trailed down your side, tugging your shirt over your head before his lips returned to yours, hot and demanding.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh and lifting it around his hip. “Did you feel anything when he touched you? Did it even come close to this?”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling as he ground against you, his hardness pressing against your core. “Bucky…”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone triumphant. He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. His eyes were dark with desire as he stripped you of the rest of your clothes, his hands mapping your body like he needed to remind himself you were his.

“You can pretend to hate me all you want,” he murmured, leaning over you as he stripped off his shirt. “But your body doesn’t lie. You still want me.”

You glared at him, trying to hold onto your anger, but it was hard to think when his lips were on your skin, kissing and biting a trail down your chest. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he settled between them.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive spot, your hands fisting in the couch cushions. “Bucky—”

“Say it,” he demanded, his metal hand pressing against your stomach to keep you still as he worked you into a frenzy. “Say you’re mine, or I’ll stop.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your head falling back as pleasure built in your core. “I’m yours, Bucky.”

A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest, and he pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you. “That’s my girl,” he said, shedding the rest of his clothes before aligning himself with you.

The stretch as he filled you was almost too much, but it was everything you needed. He moved slowly at first, his gaze locked on yours as he claimed you in every way possible.

“No one else can have you,” he murmured, his pace quickening. “No one else will ever touch you like this. You’ll never want anyone else, Y/N. You’re mine.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his groan of release muffled against your neck.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Bucky stayed above you, his weight comforting as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder.

“You’ll never want anyone else,” he whispered again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “Because no one else can love you like I do.”

This time, you didn’t argue.

[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

[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.

[promenadewithme]

Twelve Days of Christmas - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: slight angst (i swear the fluff is coming), sexual content (not sex, but mentions of it), food (sweets, coffee), established relationship (marriage and divorce), motherhood, not proofread and i'm sick so there might be some screwups along the way a/n: i swear I planned on writing a chapter a day and I'm so so so sorry for taking longer than that, but I'm really sick and can't think straight most of the day (I just finished writing this at 1am). I promise I'll try to finish this until Christmas. I hope you all like it, though <3 pls tell me if it sucks.

part 1 part 2 part 3

The rich vanilla scent of something sweet, the empty bed beside you, water running, Liv’s giggles, James’ footsteps. Any one of those things could have woken you. Even though you knew there were a few more minutes before your alarm went off, the noises were a comfort, ones you hadn’t heard in a long while. Ones you did not know if you would hear again after this holiday season. So, you sat there and absorbed it, every little crumb you could catch through the door.

As your daughter’s giggles got closer, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep. Liv loved waking you up, so you always let her think she did. Whispers were exchanged before the door to your bedroom opened.

“Mommy” she whispered, caressing your face “wake up, we have a surprise for you.”

Your eyes opened to a pair identical to your husband’s, the same kind, melancholy, piercing steel that reached your soul. Leaning against the door frame, food tray in hand, James watched you both. There was uncertainty in his eyes. Can I come in or not? They whispered. You didn’t know the answer, so you looked back at Liv.

“Good morning, angel” you smiled and pulled her onto the bed, hugging her tightly. Her giggles filled the room as you tickled her sides “What surprise do you have for me?” you asked once she calmed down.

“Show her, daddy.” She jumped on the bed and James finally came in, slowly and unsteady, to his side of the bed.

After lowering the tray with a tight-lipped smile, he clasped his hands behind his back. Waiting. His military training never quite leaving him. To others, it might seem like a residue habit, but you knew he acted like this when he wanted to keep his shield up. He was upset.

He has no right to be. That voice resonated in your head. And it was right. He was the one who never showed up, the one who stopped touching you, loving you. The one who walked away from this marriage, from his own family, the second things got hard. He was like a ghost, you knew he was there in the dead of night and sometimes left tracks behind, but you never actually saw him. Now it felt like you were being haunted, seeing him in broad daylight, close enough to touch. When was the last time you gazed into his eyes? The last time you saw the light stroke his hair to reveal auburn streaks? The last time you both stopped for long enough to actually look at each other?

“We made pancakes with maple syrup and coffee” Olivia said, and you realized just how long you and James had been staring at one another “Mommy, do you like it?”

Peeling your eyes away from your husband, forced the most natural smile possible “I love it, sweetie. Thank you so much.” You kissed her forehead before looking back at James “And thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, a faint blush painting his cheeks.

God, he was beautiful. You missed this, you missed him. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, and kiss him, and ask so many questions, then hit him, but then kiss him better again. You wanted any excuse to put your hands on him.

Maybe I’m making a mistake. You thought gingerly.

But then his phone rang, and he said he had to take it outside. Then he left. Again. For what most probably was a work call.

Or not, the anxiety whispered, what would he have to hide from work?

Forcing yourself to believe it was paranoia, remembering that his clients were confidential, and that Liv had school, you brought yourself back to the present. It didn’t even matter anyways, in twelve days you would start the divorce process and all of this would be over.

“Have you eaten?” you asked Liv.

She gave you a sheepish grin and you already knew she had eaten the batter while they were making it.

“What?” you poked, matching her smile. You couldn’t help it, she was just too cute.

“I ate the batter.” She whisper-shouted and hid her head in the pillow.

You stifled a laugh and questioned whether or not she was still hungry, the answer being no. Hand in hand, you took your daughter to her room, leaving her to pick out her outfit of the day while you grabbed her lunch from the fridge and filled her water bottle. After a few minutes, she walked out with her still- tangled hair, a hideous Christmas sweater and pink leggings. Nothing matched, yet it was so authentically Olivia.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

Her answer was running back into her room. No, then. You were leaving her things by the door when James came back in.

“Do you want me to drop her off?” he asked quietly, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“No need, I’m taking her then meeting Wanda for coffee after she drops off Billy and Tommy.” You say, rushing into your room to change into something presentable. Since you were already off work, there was no need to dress business, so you picked out the first gym set you saw. Navy pants and jacket, along with a white top, that hugged your curves perfectly. You remembered James saying he loved how it made you look months ago. He also showed you how it made him feel. It had been a particularly good nailing. To the counter, then against the wall, the bed… You wondered if he still remembered, if you still turned him on.

He was staring at it like maybe he did, but you couldn’t be sure. You were never sure when it came to him these days. The silence was getting far too loud, him just standing against the door looking all gorgeous and delectable, looking at you. It made you feel like when you met him all over again. Not quite certain if he hated you or wanted to fuck your brains out. It always made you say the most awkward things, like the phrase that came out of your mouth before you could help yourself.

“You could tag along if you want” you offered a smile “Though I don’t know if Wanda would want to say certain girl things in front of you, so maybe we could get you a seat by the window, a few tables away from us. I could still get you a macchiato, though. Maybe even something with cinnamon, I don’t know if they still have it, but it would be quite festive, right? I might just get myself a tall glass of Christmas. Christmas in a cup. What rhymes with Christmas?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you usually couldn’t when you were nervous. And you were. This was your best friend, your husband, but also a stranger you weren’t sure you recognized, someone you would soon only have one tie left with.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at you, looking almost in awe, an almost smile creeping in. That is, before he remembered his phone call.

“I wish I could, doll, I really do. But that was Stark on the phone”

“Right.” You nodded curtly, tongue against your front teeth, trying your hardest not to pick a fight over the same topic over and over again. Walking into the bathroom, you slammed the door and started to change.

There it was, the reason you were unhappy in the first place. Your husband was a workaholic. He had a problem, and he did not know how to set boundaries when it came to his boss. He was supposed to be home, with his family, and there he went back. Couldn’t even wait a whole day before giving up on giving his daughter a happy holiday.

“I’m sorry.” He said against the door.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” You spat out, wiping a stray tear and zipping up your jacket.

“I mean it. You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll be back before you know it, before you’re home. I promise”

You opened the door, revealing your husband leaning against it with those same kicked puppy eyes. So unfair considering he was the one doing all the kicking. You should be the one with the adorable puppy eyes. Fucking unfair that you couldn’t stay mad at him when you looked at them. So, you didn’t, you looked anywhere but his eyes. You wanted to stay mad. You couldn’t back out, especially now that you knew he would never change.

“I really don’t care, James. Stay, go, never come back for all I care” You tied your hair in the best ponytail you could muster to keep you busy “You’re never here and we’re doing just fine without you anyways.”

You knew it hit a nerve and you were too scared to look at just how sad he was, so you grabbed your things and met Liv, who waited patiently on the couch. You truly hoped she hadn’t heard anything. You were, after all, doing this for her. With both your jackets, gloves, and scarves on, Liv waves goodbye to her father, who wished her a good day. When she just smiled and grabbed your hand to lead you out the door, you knew everything would be okay. Even if you weren’t.

You relied solely on muscle memory to drop her off since your head was miles away.

“Why was daddy home today?” she asked when you were nearing the school.

Pondering your choices, you glanced at Liv. Should you tell her or not? Would James keep up his end of the bargain or would you both be disappointed again? The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to be sad. He did promise, though…

“Your dad is going to be working a little less during the holidays.” You decided was good enough “He wants to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” she beamed “Oh, we could go ice skating, make gingerbread cookies, watch the grinch, and put up the tree. It’s going to be so much fun.”

You hoped so, you truly did.

“Why don’t you make a list of things you want to do with us before the holidays end and give it to me after school?”

She nodded profusely, grin never leaving her face, and you couldn’t help but smile along with her. Being a mother wasn’t always easy but seeing that you managed to make your child happy made it all worthwhile.

 “Alright, time to go” you said, putting your car in neutral and handing Liv her lunch “Have fun, be nice, and learn a lot, okay?”

“Okay, mamma.” She blew you a kiss as she left and you drove off to meet with Wanda for your weekly coffee date.

Wanda was an unexpected friendship, one of those who came out of the blue. She had just moved into town with her husband and twins, but the other moms apparently thought she was ‘too weird’ and someone heard rumors she was a witch. You happened to think there was no such thing as too weird and that witched were quite cool. She turned out to be an incredibly sensitive soul and amazing friend. So, their loss.

The sweet aromas of ground coffee bean, vanilla, caramel, and pastries filled your nose as soon as you stepped into Sweet Tooth, the town’s renown bakery. Known for their amazing seasonal beverages, fluffy cakes, litany of focaccia flavors, and Peggy – the owner and best baker this town has seen. It also helped that the place was a cozy little slice of heaven. You could choose a seat by the window and watch the snow fall as the coffee went cold, or maybe you preferred a place on one of the burgundy couches, the mahogany counters were also nice when you were in a hurry. Either way, there was always a place for you, and Wanda had already found yours for the morning.

“Hi.” She waved you over with a smile, scrunching her nose in delight “It’s so good to see you.”

“You have no idea how good it is to see you.” You said, bringing her into a tight hug.

“What’s going on?” she asked, sitting down on the couch.

Should you tell her or was it too personal? Your mother always did say that a couples’ business was only their own. But she was miles away and your marriage was falling apart. You weren’t even sure if you could be considered a couple anymore. Everything was so confusing.

“It’s a long story.” You settled with.

“I’ve got nothing but time.” She smiled warmly, caressing your hand “Besides, the coffee will be here any minute and I ordered some cinnamon rolls to go with it as well as some Parma focaccia. We’re in for a Christmas brunch here.”

You nodded, gathering your thoughts, but nothing came out except for “James and I are getting divorced.”

“What?” She gasped “Oh, sweetie, what did he do? Did he cheat?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you? Oh, I swear I’ll end him if he did.” She said, rage in her eyes.

“No, nothing like that.” You were sure he never could.

She turned her head to the side “Then, what?”

“Well, it sounds kind of silly now…” you admitted, sudden tears brewing in your eyes.

“(y/n), sweetie,” she held both your hands, scooting closer “nothing that makes you feel bad is ever silly.”

“I just…” you looked at the ceiling trying not to cry “I feel so alone, like there is only one person in this marriage. He’s never home, we barely even talk anymore, he hasn’t touched me in months, and I just feel like… Like maybe he fell out of love with me a long time ago but is too afraid or too stubborn to tell me and end this once and for all. To let us both be free, be happy. So I told him yesterday night that I wanted a divorce.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said that he’d sign the papers after the holidays were over. We’re giving Liv one last Christmas as a family before we have to share her between Christmas, New Years, Easter, birthdays and god knows what else.” Leaning forwards and resting your head between your hands, you wondered what you could have done differently “This is a mess I never wanted.”

“No one ever wants to be divorced,” she stroked your back “But it’s his loss. I know it’s a cliché to say it, but it’s true. You are a remarkable woman. You are smart, kind, incredibly beautiful, and, in the time I have known you, proved to be a beautiful soul with a heart of gold. If he can’t see that, if he doesn’t want you, then he truly is losing the most amazing woman he could have ever asked for. So, his loss.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you hugged her tightly. Wanda held you, hand running up and down your back in an attempt to warm up your soul.

“If there is ever anything I can do to help, you tell me, okay?”

You nodded against her hair, that shined copper in the daylight. “Thank you for being here, for helping me through this.”

“Of course,” she smiled and rubbed your shoulders “that’s what friends are for.”

Wanda walking into your life was a blessing you didn’t know what you did to deserve, but you would be forever grateful for her. Good or bad days, she was always here. Gossips sessions, crying sessions, trauma dumps, – and now divorces – there was no theme she could not cover, no day she couldn’t brighten with a nose scrunch and an open heart.

“I think that’s us” she said before the barista called out her name “Stay put. I’ll be right back, and we’ll start planning a girl’s trip for next year. God knows we both need a rest from men and cleaning up toys.”

Ain’t that the truth. You thought. A girl’s trip to somewhere with no men, the peace of mind that comes with not having to worry about your husband… maybe even a new vibrator. Something with lots of fancy functions that promises the best orgasm of your life. Yeah, you could get used to that. Maybe being single again wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

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[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

[drdawnbreaker]

I like this. This is good hehe

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

warnings: Suggestive 18+ MDNI & Fluff | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Brief mentions of PTSD | Brief talk of HYDRA | Heavy petting | Love biting/hickeys

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[ailoda]

updated: 21.12.24

ᯓ★ biker!au

How To Get Away With Murder (❅✘): Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood. (@empyreanwritings) (warning: domestic abuse)

Brotherhood & Bullets (❤❅✘): the 107th motorcycle club had always and would always be the protectors of their small, charming hometown — such a responsibility required strong shoulders to uphold the weight of it all. Your venture to their town would harbour twists and turns for you to navigate, all while you became the angel on the President’s shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons. (@vesearlee) (links to AO3)

HWITA (✘): Bucky finds out you’ve never been eaten out and takes that personally. (@itiswormtimebaby)

Riding Into The Night (❤✘): one of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. (@veltana)

(✘): Bucky “loving” your thighs. (@itiswormtimebaby)

Call Me Baby (❤✘): returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby. (@cherryrogers)

new! (❤): Bucky “comforting” you when you get too high. (@itiswormtimebaby) (warning: weed use, anxiety, talks of death)