#james bucky buchanan barnes

[malum-forev]

More Than Casual?

Summary: After breaking up with Bucky, you thought you'd never see him again. That is, until you're required to make an appearance at one of the future congressman's events.

Part 1: Casual

CAABNW!Bucky x Agent!ExWidow!Reader

“You ready for the event?” Joaquin asks you as he throws a punch. 

“What event?” You huff, dodging the right hook. 

“Everyone on Cap’s team gets an invite to the White House.” He covers his guard. 

“Less talking, more punching!” Isaiah yells from the other side of his training room. 

You’d heard about the event being held at the White House but you decided to turn off the TV the second those familiar blue eyes were displayed. It was too early to see the man who still made you shiver. 

“Not going.” Is all you say, throwing him a rogue kick with more force than necessary. 

“You’re missing out on the event of the year for what? Ordering in pizza?” He laughs, but you take the opportunity to kick the center of his chest, making Joaquin fly across the room. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Isaiah hollers. 

You help your partner up. “What if I have plans?”

“Plans?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you finally opening your heart to love?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart sinks a little. You’d successfully gone weeks without thinking of him and now, with just a couple of words, he’s back in your mind. Pulling at your heartstrings so tightly it makes your chest cave in.

It wasn’t Joaquin’s fault, he had no idea that the man who’s being honored at the event is the same person who tore your heart to shreds. 

“I just don’t feel like going,” you manage to get out. “I much prefer to fight and protect, rather than prance and drink.”

——

“What’s this I hear about you not going to the gala?” Sam casually says a few days later. 

You choke on the water you’re drinking. 

“That serious, huh?” Sam jokes. 

You shake your head. “Doesn’t sound like something that I’d be interested in.”

Your words are careful and strategic. But trying to think of the perfect excuse while your team leader looks at you so inquisitively is almost impossible. 

“I’d be nice,” he shrugs. “To go out and support Buck.”

The nickname sends a chill down your spine. 

You called him that same name for years, especially when you wanted to tease him. In front of others you’d always referred to him as Sergeant. But in close encounters, especially when you wanted him to plead for something, you’d call him just that. Buck. 

It never failed to make you think back to when he was a kid. You’d beg him to see pictures, you knew he had a couple printed out after the rediscovery of the Howling Commandos files. 

“You’re looking at the best version of me there is, doll.” He’d always say. “No need to dwell on the past.”

But you knew it was because part of him was always scared to look back. It made him remember he had a life before all of this happened. 

“I’m busy that day.” You mutter, picking up the report on the desk. 

Sam crosses his arms. “I haven’t even told you when it is.”

You stop in your tracks. 

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?” Sam asks carefully. He knows perfectly how to deal with guarded agents. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

You hum.

“So, I hope to see you there, Agent.” Sam narrows his eyes. He doesn’t need to use the words for you to know it’s an order. 

You nod your head without another word, leaving the conference room before your anxiety rises more through your body.

——

“You’re pretty amped up for someone who didn’t even want to come!” Sam yells over the loud music playing inside the limo sent for you. 

You don’t look back at him as you tip the vodka bottle, letting the clear liquid coat your throat.

On any other day, vodka wouldn’t be your liquor or choice but today, you need all the courage I can get. And in terms of fucking you up the fastest, vodka is the way to go. 

You can barely feel your heel poking your foot by the time you step out. 

Your eyes inadvertently scan every square inch of the room, not looking for anything suspicious but looking for the man who you’ve been dreading seeing. 

It’s bad enough his posters are up on every lamp post.

You make a beeline towards the free bar cart, Joaquin hot on your heels. 

“Sam sent me over to babysit you,” he leans on the edge of the cart. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say sarcastically, sipping on the martini the bartender set for you. “I’m having a blast.”

Both your eyes travel down to the napkin the bartender passes you, his ten-digit phone number neatly scribbled on the paper. 

You turn it over without looking at him.

“What happened to opening up your heart to love?” Joaquin whispers, looking back at the bartender. 

“I don’t have time for love.” You mutter, swirling the olives in your drink. 

He twists the cap on a water bottle before passing it to you. “You’ll never have time for love, if you don’t make time for love.”

“Who died and made you the team’s hopeless romantic?” You eye him. 

“Steve.” He shrugs. 

Joaquin goes on and on about love but you can’t hear him anymore. Because the second you look over to the other side of the room, there he is. 

Time stands still, and your legs threaten to give out.

Bucky’s changed so much since the day you said goodbye forever. His eyes have dulled, turning into a muted blue like the sky on a rainy day. His hair looks polished, but you know better than anyone else he hates how it feels. “I love it when you run your hands through it,” he used to murmur against your lips. “Makes me feel free.” But most importantly, his expression lacks that liveliness it used to have. The wrinkles near his eyes would deepen the second his lips would stretch into a smile. And it almost always came with a: “You have no idea how much I missed you, Doll.” 

Unsaid words stretch between you two. Your eyes say all the talking needed. 

Bucky’s eyes travel from yours, down to your left hand, where you’d always wear a vibranium bracelet that he’d gifted you. It had pieces of his old arm in it. Bucky used to say that after The Winter Soldier, he wanted nothing to do with him. Until he met you. He liked when you wore it because it reminded him that even with his past, he could still deserve someone as loving as you. 

You rub the spot where the bracelet used to lay. 

“You don’t deserve me anymore,” you whisper. 

“D’you say something?” Joaquin looks up at you.

You shake your head, ripping your eyes away from the man who caused you unspeakable hurt. But not before noticing how his expression hardened as he looked at the man standing next to you. 

You recognized it immediately. It’s Bucky’s signature: I want to rip your head off look.

And it had everything to do with the way Joaquin was rubbing your shoulder. 

“Torres, we’re friends, right?” Your eyes bounce from Bucky’s azure to your partner’s brown. 

“Yeah,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“Could you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You get out before you can regret the words. 

Was it immature? Yes. 

Did you want Bucky to feel at least one ounce of the hurt you felt? Also yes. 

“Why?” Joaquin’s eyebrows furrow. 

“I hate these events because, as you can see,” you flip over the napkin with the bartender’s number on it. “Men always get the wrong idea. So, can you just act like you’re my boyfriend?”

“Is this some kind of test Sam put you up to?”

You pinch your lips together. “Sure.”

“Man! I’ve been waiting for an undercover mission,” he shimmies happily. 

“But you have to pretend with everyone, okay?” You look back at the future congressman who’s making his way towards the two of you. “And make it believable.”

Joaquin smooths down his lapels. “You got it.”

Not even ten seconds later, Bucky stands between you and Joaquin with a scowl on his face.

"Agents." He looks at both of you like he's done so many times. But now, his gaze holds Joaquin's for a second longer.

"Congratulations." You raise your glass to him.

"I haven't won, yet." He doesn't look away from the brunet to your side.

"By the looks of it, you're going to sweep the floor with all the other old bozos around here." Joaquin smiles, playfully shoving the super soldier's shoulder but he doesn't budge. Not one bit.

"Could I take her away from you, it'll only be a second." Bucky asks like you're Joaquin's property.

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to ask him."

"As your boyfriend," Joaquin not-so-subtly raises his eyebrows at you. "I approve of your parting."

"We're not in the regency era you doofus." You whisper as Bucky leads the way.

"I haven't been anyone's boyfriend in a long time! I don't know how to act!" He whispers back, throwing his hands up.

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asks the second you're away from everybody else.

"Trust me, I didn't want to be here." You let out a dry laugh, pulling a cigarette from your bag and lighting it up.

"I mean, what are you doing here with him?" Bucky narrows his eyes toward your partner. "What's this? A debutant ball for your new relationship?"

"Why would you care, anyways?" You take a drag, liking the way the smoke coats your mouth.

"I don't care-I-I just-" Bucky runs a hand down his face.

"Look James," You watch as his PR guy paces around the ballroom, looking for the man who is standing in front of you. "It's best if you go back inside."

"I can't." He looks down at the floor. "I can't just leave you out here smoking alone."

A genuine laugh rips through you.

"That's the promise you're keeping up?" You raise your brows, laughing harder as his expression tightens. "Out of all the promises you made me, that's the one you're going with."

"This isn't-" He tries but you interrupt him.

"Tell me what this is?" You push for him to spill what you know is on the tip of his tongue. "What? Was this summon a friendly one? Or did you want to bring me out here just so you could see if you still had it? That power you had over me."

"N-no." He stutters over his words.

"I'm happy now, James." You let out more smoke. "And it's killing you to know that."

"I just don't know how you did it!" He finally snaps. "You come here, looking amazing like always, with another man next to you. Acting like what we had was-"

"What we had was casual." You repeat the words he said. "Nothing more."

"Was it?" His blue eyes lock into yours, tumultuous like the sea.

"Yes." You lie.

"Then why do I feel like this?" He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his perfectly combed hair.

"I don't care, Barnes." You drop the end of your cigarette on the floor. Bucky lifts his foot to step on it, just like he'd done a million times before, only for you to do it first.

You turn on your heel but Bucky stops you.

"Whatever we had is in the past, and I intend on keeping it that way." You look at him over your shoulder, hating the way his gaze still makes your heart squeeze and his touch makes your skin heat.

"I should leave, Congressman." You say through gritted teeth. "Wouldn't want to give the wrong impression to all the voters around here. "

Authors Note: Hiiiihi! Thank you so much for the love on pt. 1! As always make sure to like and comment. Alsoooo I posted the first chapter of my book, it's on my page. I'd love it if you guys could give it a read. And if you'd like to support me, make sure to give me a follow on my ig and tiktok: @sophiabazar_author, I'll be posting all book related content on there! I'll be posting chapter 2 soon! If you'd like a part 3 to casual make sure to comment!

Tagged: @erinallene @the-bucky-one @unaxv @kodzukenie333 @g1g1l @hanacheryl @ironwinnerwonderland

[buckyalpine]

I LOVE what you wrote for the other ideas!!

This is kind of a dialogue prompt

Reader says something like, "do you know how many times I've imagined you fucking me on this desk?"

Maybe she's sitting on Bucky's lap while she works on a mission report or something for the team. Since Bucky hasn't seen reader in a bit, he is being needy and handsy trying to distract her. (Cue cockwarming?)

Eventually, reader slams the laptop shut and puts it away before she says that line. Bucky just like

Sweeps EVERYTHING off desk

(I'm so sorry for the long ask) much love❤️❤️

Not me answering this 2 years later but I'm weaaaak for the lip bite and this idea, immediate yes (and by immediate I mean I know I took forever, I'm so sorry, also I love you)

-

"I missed you so much baby" Bucky purred in your ear, hoisting you up by your hips to wrap your legs around his waist as soon as you stepped off the jet. You'd been gone for over a month in those 4 weeks, Bucky had been nothing but a pouty puppy, waiting for you to come back. None of the missions he went on were enough of a distraction, all he wanted was his perfect angel back in his arms and he finally had you.

"Missed you too, bub" You giggled at his scruffy beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled into your skin, carrying you off for some much needed cuddles. "I already showered and changed but I just have to finish my mission report and then I'm all yours"

You pecked the frown that made its way to his face, your thumb brushing over the crease between his brows.

"But I haven't seen you in so long" Bucky mumbled, reluctantly detouring away from your shared bedroom, taking you to the conference room instead.

"I promise I'll be quick-Bucky what are you-" You squeaked as you felt his cool arm effortlessly wrap around your waist, lifting you up so he could sit in the chair instead, plopping you onto his lap.

"I'll be patient" Bucky gave you an innocent shrug, not willing to wait for you to finish so he could spend time with you. You giggled at his clinginess, opening your laptop and pulling up the file you had to fill out; of course his patience lasts all of 10 seconds before his hands slowly slip under your shirt.

"Bucky, what are you doing"

"Nooothin'" he ignored the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder while he started to needily paw at your hips, slowly making his way up to your waist, caressing your skin. "Just feelin' you"

"I can see that" you shook your head, returning to your report, trying desperately to recall various details while your boyfriends hands continued to wander around. You could barely type out a sentence, squeaking when his cool metal fingers brushed near the top of your breast, tracing along the outline of your bra.

"Bucky"

"Y/n"

"You're distracting me"

"No, You're distracting me" He countered with another shrug, adjusting his hips, the movement causing you to shift right onto his-

"Bucky!"

"What" He gave you an innocent pout as if his thick erection wasn't about to pop out of his jeans.

"Your not so little friend there is about to stab my ass" You snoted, ignoring the way his hard length pressed against you made your stomach flip.

"Help him out then" Bucky smirked with a raise of his brow, "C'mon, it'll help me keep my hands to myself if he gets some attention"

"Bucky-

"Please baby, I promise I'll behave, just let me put it in you, I won't move, no more distractions, scouts honor"

"You're a little shit" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smirk as you got up to pull down your sweats while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out. He groaned as he swiped his thick cockhead through your folds, your slick already making a mess between your thighs.

"Looks like I wasn't the only distracted on, huh" He whispered against the shell of your head as he pressed inside, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him stretching you. He was careful to lower you slowly, inching his way until you were perfectly seated on his lap and entirely full of him. "Mpph, fuck you feel good baby, keep me nice and warm, that's it" He nipped on your earlobe while you took a moment to recompose, your tight walls fluttering against his shaft.

"I-have to finish this-" Your voice melted off into a moan, how were you going to get anything done, it had been so long since you'd felt your boyfriends fat cock absolutely rail you, making you cum and squirt till you nearly passed out, his length fucking your brains out until he was ready to fill you, his moans and grunts all just for you while his cock exploded with thick streams of cum that would drip out-

"You won't get anything done if you keep grinding on me princess" Bucky's strained, teasing voice broke you from your train of thought, not even realizing you'd been pushing your hips further back on him, trying to feel more. "You sure you gotta finish this right now?"

"Y-yes" You tried to fill out the next section, your eyes rolling back instead when Bucky adjusted himself, pushing himself till his tip kissed your cervix.

"You sure baby, I can make you feel really good"

"I-

"It's been so long angel, I need you, fuck, need you so bad" The neediness of his voice only set you off further, a gush of your arousal pooling out of you, getting the patch of curls at the base of his cock messy. It certainly wasn't missed by Bucky, his hands holding onto your hips so he could gently thrust his hips up just enough for you to feel the slightest movement. "Please baby, m'so hard, balls are fuckin' full, swear my cock's ready to burst there's so much cum for you-

All it took was you shutting your laptop for Bucky to swipe his arm and clear the table of its contents, bending you over the table while he was still deep inside you.

"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled, grabbing you hips and setting a brutal pace without warning, his head thrown back, the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixing with your moans.

"OH-FUCK-J-AMIE" You squealed feeling Bucky angle his hips to hit a spot that made a mess everywhere, your juices dripping onto his jeans, the material turning darker making him fuck you harder.

"That's it baby, make a mess on me, make a mess on my cock, give me what I've been missing so fuckin' bad"

You were nothing more than a babbling mess letting Bucky take what he needed, your legs nearly buckling from pleasure.

"Wanna see you" He pulled out and handled you with ease as he picked you up and placed you onto the table, throwing your pants off and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He didn't waste any time as he slipped in again, the both of you moaning and he started to move again, your tummy bulging each time he fucked into you. "Missed you so much angel, fuck you have no idea"

"Missed you-t-too" You hiccuped from a mixture of emotion and your building orgasm, a mix of everything making your vision blur with white spots and tears. "Missed you so much, Bucky"

"Cum for me angel, I want it, wanna feel my angel cum on my cock, please-" Bucky's pace stuttered as his cock squirted precum, his balls growing heavy, struggling to hold on, "m'gonna cum, can't hold it baby, give it to me"

"I-I-OH FUCK" You let out a silent scream as Bucky slipped his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressed onto your clit rubbing gentle circles. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his own ready to shoot from the base of his cock, the tip already dribbling-

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl, so pretty when you cum for me baby, fuck me I won't last, shit-I-FUCKK" The first burst of cum flooded and painted your walls, his cock throbbing so hard it nearly sent you into a second climax, "Hng, it's so much, mmph"

Bucky clung onto you with his face buried into your neck, shuddering as his body shook from the waves of his orgasm. He held onto you, keeping you wrapped up as he sat back on the chair, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you"

"I love you too but I need to finish" You sleepily mumbled while Bucky shook his head, carrying you off for some much needed proper cuddles.

"You can finish later after we get some dinner in you and two more orgasms and a nice long shower, maybe a massage and THEN you can-"

"You filthy animals" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's list as he stood at the conference door with an amused smirk on his face.

"Oh my god" You kept your face buried in Bucky's neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing covering up what was going on but there was no mistaking what happened with Bucky's jeans around his ankles.

"Couldn't wait 10 minutes, huh"

"Would you?" Bucky didn't even bother arguing back, raising his brow with a smug smile.

"Can't argue with that" Tony nodded with approval, walking off while Bucky cackled without an ounce of shame.

"You little shit" You stayed pressed against his neck, while Bucky carried you off to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the bed.

"Now about those two orgasms-"

[starboye]

starring: bucky barnes x male reader

request: Hi can I request a Bucky x bottom male reader smut? Bucky and male reader are on a mission. Observation. Male reader gets horny watching Bucky play with his knife.

warnings: smut, knife play sorta, cursing, degradation, slight choking, creampie, unprotected sex

it was a boring mission, take out the target, no witnesses and get out, for now it was a stake out right across the targets house just waiting for him to leave so you both could get the jump on him.

"hand me my drink" you ask with the binoculars held up to your eyes "no do it yourself" bucky scoffs "you're zero help you know that right" you complain grabbing the cup and taking a sip from it.

"so are you, why do they even pair us together" bucky questions to himself "because they need someone to handle your aggressive ass" you laugh leaning back into your seat "whatver" bucky mumbles pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket.

it just looked so good dancing around his fingers it had you infatuated, not even noticing you were staring at him he snapped at you "hey" he his fingers made you jolt up a little "what" you try to act chill "oh my god are you turned on by me playing with a knife" bucky chuckles watching your face flush red.

"no" you terribly lie, he leans closer to you "don't lie you know you like it" he whispered with that deep gruffy voice that you lowkey could cum to "fuck you" you try to say back but the words get stuck in your throat when he grabs you by the neck, his cold metal hand creating goosebumps on your skin.

"we could take this to the backseat" he offers and you could think of nothing else other than nodding yes, skip to him having your legs over his shoulders and his cock slamming into you making the car rock back and forth with every thrust.

while his hand settled on your throat, broken moans and whimpers falling from your mouth "such a good cock slut huh shoulda known it with all that bratty attitude" he chuckles to himself looking down at you taking his length each time like a pro>

"how do you know how to fuck so good" you question his impressive skills seeing as he was a human popsicle for a good portion of 108 years "i got around a lot in my younger years" he smirks, his other hands pressing to fingers into your mouth to shut you up so he can focus on the beauty of your ass in front of him.

you were drooling all over his fingers in an instant with no shame, moaning like a bitch in heat while bucky just fucked you deeper into the seats "buckyyyy" you whine "use your words" he coos tilting your head up to be on eye level with him, as much as you tried to turn away he turned your head right back to him.

"who knew some dick could get you so whiny" bucky teases you making your hoe tighten around him to which he notices "what, that get you excited, how you like getting degraded by me hmmm, so pathetic right just a dumb broad for some dick right" he teases you more and more up until you cum hands from just from him.

"fuck you" you huff "oh you wish whore" he slams his cock into you a couple more times before painting you gummy pink walls white "there you go, is that what you wanted so bad" he scoffs pulling out from you "and good for you, the target hasn't moved yet so clean up and gt back on duty" he pulls up his pants and gets back in the front seat while you watch him, secretly wanting more of him.

(i want him to finger me with that metal hand)

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[reckless007]

Omg 😍

Soft spot

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Alpine is determined to gain access to your room while you are resting.

Warnings: Bucky’s conversation with a cat lol; Bucky being jealous of a cat; fluff; feelings; Bucky is a sweetheart

Author’s Note: I just needed to write a little something and this came out. Hope you enjoy! Also, I probably will be posting the next chapter of like a Phoenix tomorrow.

Masterlist

“Nah, Alp, c’mon now.”

Bucky sets his mug of tea down on the kitchen counter with a quiet clink - he never used to drink tea before moving in with you, but living with you changed that.

The little white kitten Bucky and you adopted from the shelter a few months ago paws insistently at your bedroom door, tiny claws scratching against the wood. She lets out a sharp, impatient mewl.

Bucky sighs, before striding over to her hurriedly and scooping the little ball of fluff into his arms before she can make more of a racket.

“Alpine,” he warns, almost too firmly considering he is talking to a cat. “Cut it out, yeah? You’re gonna wake her up.”

The kitten wiggles in his hold, clearly unimpressed. She meows again. Loud. Indignant. Bucky huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head and scratching her behind her ear.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, glancing at the closed door to your room. “Ya miss her. But she’s had a rough couple weeks, alright? Stress n' exams, you know, the whole damn deal. She needs the rest. Can’t have you climbin’ all over her like the little menace you are.”

Alpine stares at him with those big blue eyes, as if she understands every word but refuses to accept the reasoning. Another sharp meow, this time more of a protest.

Bucky sighs dramatically, shifting her into one arm and rubbing her chin. “Yeah, yeah, don’t gimme that look. I ain’t the bad guy here, buddy. Just tryna let her sleep.”

Alpine doesn’t seem to hear a word.

Before Bucky can react, the little furball twists her tiny body and slips right out of his grasp, landing softly on the floor.

In an instant, she is back at your bedroom door, paws crawling, tail flicking, and meowing like she is under torture.

Bucky groans quietly, dragging his hand down his face. “Jesus.” He crouches down, resting his forearms on his knees as he watches her.

He reaches out, rubbing slow and soothing circles on her soft white fur. “You just wanna be near her, huh, girl?” His voice is softer now. He sighs, deep and heavy, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I get that.”

Because Alpine loves you. She doesn’t hide it - follows you everywhere, curls up in your lap, meows until you give her attention. She’s got no hesitation when it comes to showing how much she adores you.

And that is what Bucky envies.

Because Bucky loves you too. He just can’t show his affection that outright. He’s your best friend. Your roommate. And that’s the part that stings.

He would do anything for being able to show you how much he adores you without crossing the line he is afraid to.

His chest tightens long enough for him to really feel the ache and he stands up, exhaling through his nose with a resigned breath.

“Alright, you little punk,” he mutters, shaking his head as Alpine turns those blue eyes back up to him. Expectant.

Slowly, he reaches for the door handle, giving the kitten another warning glare. “Just for a quick visit, yeah? No bouncin’ on her. No wakin’ her up, got it?”

Alpine meows.

Bucky huffs, pushing the door open carefully.

The small cat whooshes past Bucky the second the door cracks open, a blur of white fur darting straight for your bed. He barely stops himself from calling out, biting back a curse as he runs a frustrated hand down his face.

Damn cat’s got a one-track mind.

But he can’t really blame her. You’re on his mind probably even more often.

He steps inside, deliberately avoiding the creaky floorboards. He’s been in your room often enough to have memorized them by now.

Alpine reaches your face and bumps her small head against yours with a high chirp before rubbing along your cheek.

You don’t stir in your sleep.

Curled up on your side toward the direction of the door, hands tucked near your face, you’re completely dead to the world, your breaths slow and even.

Bucky guesses the stress from the last weeks must have finally caught up to you because you don’t even twitch when Alpine starts licking at your fingers.

“Alpine,” he whisper-yells, stepping closer, ready to scoop the little cat up and drag her outside before she wakes you.

But Alpine starts to circle, once, then again, before settling right against your hip, tucking herself into a comfortable little ball. She lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Bucky stops in his tracks, hands on his hips, shaking his head with an amused smirk on his lips.

“You’ve got no idea how jealous you’re makin’ me right now, Alp.”

Something tugs and turns in his chest, watching the way you sleep so peacefully, completely unaware of anything. Of how easy it is for Alpine to curl up against you and claim you like it’s the most natural thing to do.

He lets out a breath, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Alright,” he utters in a whisper. “Guess I’ll just stand here like an idiot while you get all the cuddles.”

Alpine flicks her tail.

Bucky stands there for a moment, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you.

The way your brows are at ease, your face soft and relaxed - peaceful and serene in a way he hasn’t seen in too damn long.

And oh how it calms something deep inside him.

The past few weeks had been brutal on you. It was a mess of late nights, long assignments, and that damn stubborn streak of yours keeping you from slowing down, no matter how many times he told you to.

You pushed yourself too hard - always do - and every time it drives him up the wall.

He hates seeing you stressed and he did what he could. Brought you tea, draped blankets over your shoulders when you were too caught up in your work to notice the chill. Left food by your side when he knew you’d forgotten to eat.

And you accepted it all - gave him those sweet little smiles accompanied by a thanks, Buck in that soft voice of yours that always knocks the wind out of him - but you never really listened.

Never listened when he told you that pushing past exhaustion isn’t the solution. That not having a clear head is worse than not being prepared at all.

But now you are finally resting.

For the first time in what feels like months, you are letting yourself breathe.

And Bucky feels like a weight is falling off his shoulders, a tension he was gripping finally loosening.

He exhales a deep, relieved sigh, raking a hand through his hair.

Alpine stirs slightly at your hip but stays balled up, her soft purring filling the room beside your deep breaths.

It’s then that Bucky notices the book half-tucked against your arm. You must have been reading before finally crashing, trying to quiet your mind enough to let yourself sleep.

He steps closer, cautiously, eyes flickering to your face to make sure you don’t wake up.

For a second, he worries it’s one of your damn textbooks - because if you fell asleep studying for god knows what now, he is going to have to give you some words.

But as he leans over you slightly, fingers brushing the covers and gently pulling it away from your arm, he lets out a pleased breath. Just a novel. Good.

He carefully marks the page, folds the book shut, and sets it on your nightstand.

Bucky straightens, and he knows he should walk back out - really, he should - but his eyes stay on you a little longer. He almost feels like some kinda creep just standing here, watching. But hell, he can’t help it.

You look so damn adorable with your little pout. So damn beautiful with your hair falling just so, features so soft, color in your cheeks.

His breath hitches unintentionally and his pulse skips, his heart only a trembling thing in his chest.

Taking in a deep breath, he takes a hold of your blanket and gradually tugs it up over your shoulders, up to your chin.

The fact that Alpine gets dragged along with it and the grumpy chirp she lets out gets ignored by him. She glares at him in annoyance but does not move from her spot.

“Mhm… Buck…?”

Your voice is thick with sleep, soft and drowsy, and it nearly knocks Bucky off balance. Literally. His foot catches on the floor and he stumbles slightly, heart lurching in his chest like the idiot he is.

His gaze snaps to your face. You blink up at him, slow and unfocused, brows scrunching in confusion. Eyes half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, your voice slurring slightly.

Jesus. You’re so damn cute like this.

Bucky clears his throat, forcing himself to school his expression. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he coos in a whisper, gentle and soothing. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” He shoots Alpine a pointed look, but the cat, as usual, doesn’t seem to give a damn.

You shift slightly, nestling deeper into the sheets, eyes fluttering shut again. Without thinking, Bucky brushes his hand through your hair, over your cheek in slow and soothing motions to coax you back into sleep.

You hum in contentment. That little sound does something to him, settling deep within him.

And hell - if his heart doesn’t clench at the sight of you like this. So soft, so sweet, so damn beautiful it hurts.

A lightness swells beneath his ribs. An airy flutter dances.

He focuses on the way your breathing evens out, the way your body melts back into the bed.

And when he’s sure you’ve slipped under again, Bucky lets himself lean down, lips ghosting over your temple in the lightest of touches, giving you a soft kiss. He lingers just a second, long enough to whisper against your skin, voice barely more than a breath.

“Sleep tight, doll. You better dream of me.”

And with one last glance, so full of longing, he forces himself to pull away. He lets Alpine stay with you, despite the fact that he wants to be the one who gets to do that.

But he slips out of the room as quietly as he can, shutting the door behind him with a faint click. Leaving with you the racing of his heart you caused and the ache of something he isn’t sure he’ll ever have the guts to say out loud.

“Her, because she makes life poetry, she turns every bit of it into art.”

- butterflies rising

[redroomwarrier]

Every introvert needs an Anthony 😂

[buckysm]

2:15 am (and i miss you)

ᯓ★ part one, part two

ᯓ★ Bucky Barnes x fem ex hydra AVENGER reader

ᯓ★ word count 8.4k+ (this was going to be 5k but then i ended up writing about 2.5k worth of smut... so!! beware)

ᯓ★a/n: this is weeks late, life happens, shit happens we get back up to write bucky barnes faniction. {para @dove4444 te amo, perdon por la espera <33333}

ᯓ★ summary: Tensions rise when a ‘friendship’ builds that leave both of you wanting more. Everyone can see how his eyes never leave you. If only you could get your head out of your ass and see for yourself.

ᯓ★ series warnings/ tags/ tropes: canon? what canon?, haters to lovers -- except you never hated him and he just resented you-- midnight rendezvous, friends to lovers, separation, Anxiety, angst and fluff and smut,  Bucky Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes Bucky Barnes issues related to past trauma, not so platonic cuddling, slow burn, jealous Bucky Barnes Miscommunication Bad Ass Reader Soft Bucky Barnes, Mentions of torture off screen ------[PART TWO WARNINGS: unhealthy coping strategies, miscommunication, smut, dry humping, cursing in other languages (Spanish and Russian), dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, p in v unprotected sex]

You needed time to heal after— two days of bed rest, stitches, and recovery for a heavily sprained ankle. And unfortunately for Bucky, that meant no clandestine meetings at quarter past two in the morning. 

He tried his best to keep away. After the initial reunion, he handed you into the infirmary and avoided everyone like the plague. They avoided him right back; he couldn’t blame them. He felt as if a storm cloud enveloped him without you, knew he had murder in his eyes. It cost him to hand you up to the doctors, a pang in his heart at having you taken from him once again. He told himself it wasn’t like that, and you would be back in his line of sight before he knew it. His subconscious disagreed, so he trained for hours until he passed out in a mat, warring voices in his head quieting down with exhaustion that pulled at his body, made gravity stronger. Phantom hands yanking him down into oblivion mid-workout. He toed the line of danger training without a spotter, but once the black started to spot his vision and his dry throat burned with rage, —he was a super soldier, neglecting hydration helped him pass out faster— he knew to go to the mat so when he did pass out, at least he wouldn’t injure himself.

One of those days he came to the Black Widow frowning from above him.

He grumbled an intentional incoherent sentence, not feeling like interacting. The redhead’s brows furrowed further. Unimpressed with his antics.

“Get a grip, Barnes, this self-pity schtick has to go. Here.” 

He felt more than saw the weight of a water bottle against his stomach. Almost snarled before remembering himself. This was a bit embarrassing. He sat up and grabbed at the water with resentment in what was meant to be one fluid movement, but came out clumsy and sluggish. His head pounded, his vision clouded. Embarrassing. Begrudgingly, he unscrewed the water bottle and finished it in slow, measured drinks under Black Widow’s judging gaze.

Said redhead dropped to a crouch, eye level with him, frown unfurling, and even he could see the concern in her eyes and the unpleased twist of her lips.

“Barnes, look. I long ago forgave you for the scar you gave me, and I know that you hold yourself guilty for— don’t give me that look, you know you do. Anyway, the others wanted to stage an intervention— No, before you start, let me finish! They care about you. —No. I know that face, I’m going to ignore all your passive-aggressive expressions now, you petulant child— I know you don’t like to think much about what happened during— well, yes, I know you remember. Haven’t you ever stopped to think why the fifty-sixth floor stayed destroyed? Huh? Yeah! Thought you didn’t. I know you pay close attention to Tony, so I know you know he is prideful and a perfectionist. He wouldn’t leave a floor wrecked just because. And before you get angry. No, he didn’t tell anyone why he let it be. And I know for a fact that he turned off the cameras. I couldn’t find any trace of the feed for the floor, and I am Black Widow — it didn’t take me long to figure out he had forgiven you no matter how much he teases you. Yes, he was hurt, but he ultimately understood that it wasn’t a choice, and he cares, in his own asshole way. He— We care about you, Barnes. And I know things have been awkward with Steve— since you tried to kill him and all--, but if you don’t see that he cherishes you then you have been lying to yourself. And she cares too! Did you know she has been accepting visitor? She’s about to be discharged to her own room tomorrow morning. She didn’t need to stay in the infirmary but Tony worries, and I know you do too. So there is no reason to stay away from your friend— no rational reason. And it pains me to see hope bloom in her eyes once the door opens and the way she tries to cover up it’s shatter when it’s not you. You two understand each other. You are best friends. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. We live together. She wears her heart on her sleeve. You just have to learn to read her tells. She will never outright say what she means to say. She will veil her true feelings with insults and sarcasm. Now take a shower and go to her, you big fucking idiot. You reek.” She sprang up in one smooth motion, leaving him with a fond stern look and scolded, all of reminded him of his sister.

That was the longest she had spoken in front of him ever, even putting every interaction together. He didn’t have time to unpack everything, though. Bucky was left reeling, jaw clenched to prevent it from slacking open in shock. His breaths came in faster and faster. He missed you so much. He couldn’t stop thinking about having you in his arms, wanting you back there forever. But Black Widow was right. He reeked. 

His thoughts ran a mile a second, his body going through the motions without needing instruction. Made his way to his bathroom and showered, and did his night routine on autopilot. 

 It was late… you were most definitely sleeping. His every thought hyper-focused on you. On the fact that you weren’t there, your absence a heavy and loud presence in his heart.

  Bucky stared at his bed, bones weary and freshly showered. He would lie to himself if he said he contemplated sleeping there, visiting you tomorrow. He needed you now— needed you always—But his need for you felt more pronounced at that moment. His body was tired, but it yearned to hold you more than it did sleep. He needed his nightly dose of you. And even then that wouldn’t be enough, needed you close needed you in ways that had him blushing and running himself a cold shower. He shook his head, trying to lose memories of him jerking himself off at breakneck speed, to find some sort of release of the lust full torture he found himself in just by thinking about you— never mind breathing in your scent.

He threw himself on his bed. Trying to keep away, truly he did. But between the lands of consciousness and unconsciousness, he saw you. Screaming for him, crying out as you were tortured. He couldn’t take it. His heart pounded as he ran his fingers aggressively through his hair. 

He knew you deserved all that was good in the world, and that excluded him — but that didn’t calm down the tension in his body palpable through his teeth. Bucky tried to breathe in, tried to think rationally, but his limbs moved on their own accord as if deciding for him. 

His mind a passenger to his body as he was pulled by an invisible string holding his heart hostage, tethered to you, throughout the building to your door.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You couldn’t sleep, or rather you had been knocked out for a while, sleeping on and off, drifting between the blurred line of realistic nightmare and nonsensical reality, dozed in a wide array of medicine, and found yourself squirming at two a.m. in the morning. 

You were unable to move much. Your leg was elevated to aid your heavy sprain.

Your eyes were heavy, blinking slowly in the darkness. You were so uncomfortable, and you had to sit with one big fact. Squirmed with it. You wanted to see him. You distracted yourself from any other thoughts, from processing whatever the fuck happened in the warehouse, the new drops in the bucket of blood and death, with memories of his arms around yours. You had relished in life giving away beneath your hands, just as they had relished in breaking your bones. You glared at your palms as if they would give you an answer to why you didn’t feel guilty. You had to kill your way out, no one was coming to save you. He would’ve. You could see it in his eyes, he was about to fight Captain America to get to you. You shivered not knowing how to take it. He had been so relieved, and so had you.

Your inhale was shaky. You tried to think of him, but— your greatest fears had come true those long hours before you got to escape. Half unconscious with pain you thought you were back in Hydra. When you screamed in pain from the torture, you thought those nights with him had all been a nice dream. That the beautiful man with the sad blue eyes had been a hallucination. The cruel eyes from not too long ago blurred into those of  your past, of older memories from Hydra. A variety of eyes: twin flames, mirrored each other with sadistic pleasure and glee. There was a twist in your gut that didn’t let you give up, told you there was a man with soulful eyes and a gorgeous smile waiting for you. Pure grit brought you back online, moving your body in ways you hadn’t since your hydra days. Killed so many. You were scared that you didn’t care. Bucky was real, had hugged you so tight—

But an anxious, paranoid part of you still thought so.  You hadn’t seen him in days, and the rational part of you knew he was real, but a dark and needy side of you needed him here to believe it. A heavy sensation of being trapped grew in your body, your limbs heavy and achy impeded you from moving much. Frustration built in your chest, rising and rising. Your breaths came out fast and shallow. You didn’t know how to manage it, needed to move, needed him. 

A knock at the door dragged you from your haze. Hope failed to bloom in your chest, too many times had it grown only for someone that wasn’t Jamie to come into the hospital room.

You couldn’t see through your distress. It was late, and you didn’t want to be bothered— not by anyone who wasn’t him. You slid a hand under your pillow, fingers curling around the grip of your knife. 

You knew those soft footsteps, familiar with them even in their uncertainty— you were dreaming. “Doll?” Oh, how you missed him.

You placed the knife on the bedside. “Jamie?” You weren’t able to keep the excitement and relief from your voice.

“I had a nightmare. I had to check for myself. I’ll let you sleep.” His voice was gruff, worried. Worried.

Yes, you were in fact dreaming, a pain medication-induced nice dream. Your Jamie was proud, he would never— this was your dream, you could do whatever you wanted and you wanted him around you. “Come here. There’s enough room for the both of us.”

Dream Jamie didn’t hesitate. The bed shifted with his weight. You flinched when you felt cold metal against you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I can move—”

You giggled softly.  The dark haze dissipating from your mind by his presence. “It’s alright, Jamie. You’re so cold. Get under the covers with me.” You yawned. Now that you weren’t in distress, your subconscious pulled you towards sleep—deeper sleep, since you were already in the sandman’s territory.

There was an awkward shuffle as he got inside the covers.

You curled around the cold metal arm as best as you could with restricted movement. You yawned again. “G’night, Jamie. Try to get some sleep. We’re safe here; nothing can hurt us in my dream. I’m so glad to have you in my arms I missed you so much. So happy you’re real and here, even if it is a dream Jamie.” Your words murmured. You rubbed your face into his cotton shirt. The pounding of his heart lulled you to sleep.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You thought you were dreaming! Did you dream of him often? It didn’t matter. He would ponder about this new revelation later; now he would focus on your soft, pliant body against him, and tiredness overtaking him.

Bucky’s consciousness came to him in phases, each one more forceful than the last, crashing into him in waves. The first sensation he became aware of was warmth. His body relaxed against it. It was familiar, as he had dreamt of it. The next thing he noticed was that the warmth was tangible, had soft give to it— he could feel it. He rolled his neck against foreign pillows… His eyes flew open, muscles tensing slightly with alarm. 

Your soft sleeping body cocooned his left side and enveloped his usually cold metal arm— which was at that moment the same temperature as your body. He so badly wanted to give in again. Burrow into your warm, soft skin. He barely had time to overthink it. His groggy mind almost reached consciousness before a soft murmur from your lips brought his thoughts to heel.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, s’early Jamie, sleep.” You didn’t seem to care about him not being a product of REM. You curled up tighter around him. Your smile bigger than last night, cheek pressed against his metal arm. And never had he felt any semblance of gratefulness toward Stark. But the new arm sent feedback to his brain. A weapon of destruction cradled and enveloped softly by your body. Somehow you trusted him, he felt less a weapon with no agency and more a person. He liked touching you with his metal arm. He knew that it was tainted but your touch made it pure. Bucky acknowledged that he would’ve never gotten you here with him if it weren’t for that still-wrecked floor. Unwanted tears prickled in his eyes. Would he ever live up to this forgiveness?

He didn’t want to think anymore so he followed the laced command in your sweet, sleepy voice urging him back to dream land and succumbed to his dreams.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The air around the two of you shifted after the one-person intervention. And yes, of course, the team noticed, but they chose to say nothing. They were glad that Natasha had gone in to talk to him by herself. Although she never did retell what happened, but it seemed to work. And while they liked to tease Bucky— some billionaire philanthropists more than others— they were happy for him; he seemed a little more calmer than before. Settled into himself. 

While he never directly came out and touched you in front of them. He started orbiting you blatantly. Taking a seat next to you during the rare shared meals. Glaring at anyone who dared take his spot next to you on the couch. Walking into a room and making his way to you. 

Two particular instances engraved themselves into the minds of the team members who were lucky enough to behold it. 

The first event took place in the morning. It started like any other. You chit-chatted with Steve and Nat as you made two of your breakfast bagels. They might’ve thought you had woken up hungry that day were it not for the two cups of coffee you set in front of the plate holding the two halved bagels.

Tony tinkered with a toaster in the background, his eyes looking up slowly when Bucky walked in fingers not stopping their ministrations on the machinery. 

And the team had been so wrong. Yes, Bucky had a strong disposition, but the way he had always stared at you, so intently. It should have been obvious. It was like their eyes opened after the mission had gone wrong.  The man was so obviously besotted with you. 

It couldn’t be more clear as the usual dark storm cloud that hung over him dissolved when his eyes found you. He strode toward you with one track mind. 

You spoke to him before your gaze found his, as if sensing his presence.“Hey there, I just made you my favorite breakfast. Grab our plate, here’s your coffee. Dark and joyless like you.” You turned to look at him with barely veiled glee.

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, concerned. He used to make those kinds of jokes with his Bucky, but he didn’t know how this Bucky would react.

Tony’s eyes furrowed with concern—

Bucky huffed and pursed his lips. But his eyes, they were accustomed to his eyes being perpetually set in a glare. 

His gaze was soft, voice softer, “Doll… You know me so well.”

Your grin was dazzling and you were the only one that missed the way his stare lingered a bit too long on your lips.

DOLL??? Oh, you guys were clearly fucking. Natasha smiled, amused, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. 

Steve gaped at Bucky, lost and forlorn. He had spent so long tiptoeing around the man who used to be his best friend. 

Bucky didn’t seem to care that there were other people in the kitchen, long gone was the man who didn’t show up for breakfast. You curled your fingers around the handle of the two coffee cups, concluding the chit-chat. He grabbed the plate with his metal fingers. Then, so slyly as if with half a mind, he reached out his right arm toward you, near your hips. His fingers slid inside the loop of your jeans and yanked you toward him.

You let out a surprised yelp and laughed. “Jamie! Careful. The coffee will spill!” You didn’t seem the least put off by his actions. 

They had no clue when it started, but somehow, in a few months you had gotten through the broken and hurting Winter Soldier and got to Jamie. 

Jamie. Bucky never let Steve call him that. It was bittersweet. Your chattering voice faded as he dragged you out of the kitchen. It was then that he came to a conclusion. Bucky was a different man, and he wanted to get to know this version of him.

And they felt guilty, they had given a half ass try to get through to him, put off by his glower, you weren’t perturbed by his grumpiness nor his mood swings. Letting him be silent whenever he got too in his head. Chatting to him about whatever until you eventually drew out a small smile perceptible in his usually clouded expression.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You had found yourself in the proud position of Bucky’s friend, closest and best — you did sleep in the same bed—, yet you still felt like screaming in frustration. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t unhappy per se. You had him in your arms every night…Your cheek pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. The only thing between keeping your skin from his was a thin, flimsy shirt. And maybe it was wrong for you to, but you longed for more, to touch without restraint. Had feelings with more-than-friends connotations. Not that you had many— any— real friends before you were recruited here. So while you knew there was a difference between platonic and romantic love. You tried fooling yourself into thinking it was platonic. But you wouldn’t go and kill around 15 people for just about anyone, and it hurt. You wanted him to see you the same way you did him. Rare nights where it was you holding him instead of the more common inverse. 

You’d scrape your fingernails softly through his scalp. Hope would make your heart full, inflating it with every hum of pleasure he let out in his sleep. But then he’d wake up shy and closed off, cheeks red with what you perceived as embarrassment and your heart would collapse once again, hope seeping out and leaving acid in its wake.

But he’d do certain things that would make your heart race, exhilarated and frustrated, leaving you reeling and confused.

Your feelings grew despite your protests, so you kept them locked in nice and tight, hidden even from yourself, for as long as possible. 

You were full to the brim with tension, and one particular instance made you lose it, the container breaking with pressure and spilling all over the place. 

It went like so. It was early afternoon, and sunlight spilled from the high windows of the tower, casting a warm glow on the room. 

Natasha was telling you all about these two guys; they were inviting her and you to a double date. You were certain in your decision not to go. The man you’d be paired up with was the same one that frequented the bar with the team; he had brown eyes and a sleazy smile. Nothing like your Jamie.

You were doubling down on your decision when he walked in.

“Hello, Doll, Nat.” His greeting was gruff, but a few months ago, you would’ve thought him possessed.

Natasha’s eyes glinted with mischief and calculation. She gave you a feral grin before turning around, her expression slipping easily into neutrality. “Bucky, it’s so good that you’re here. You can help me convince her to go out with me.”

Jamie cocked his head, expression unreadable. “Sounds fun, Doll; you need a girl’s night.”

This was it! The perfect opportunity to gauge his reaction to you going out with someone else! “It’s a double date with the guys from communication.” You deliberately left out the part where you didn’t want to go, wanting to push a grand reaction. —It never came.

You saw his full body tense for a moment, and for a second, your heart soared… only to crash instantly when he gave you a terse smile. His voice was disappointingly steady, “Why don’t you want to go?”

You knew your body was overreacting, knew you were blowing it out of proportion, but your heart shrivelled nonetheless. You tried still, couldn’t swallow down the frustration try as you did.“I like my men a little bit older…” Your mouth answered for you, giving him a cheeky grin. 

He turned his full attention toward you, and your body viscerally recoiled from the look in his eyes. An angry and resentful glint in his eyes. So familiar—the way he used to stare at you before the first meeting at two a.m.

“You should go.” His words were final, a command. 

You didn’t understand, and you almost sobbed then. You prided yourself in being able to count the number of times you had cried on one hand. A chasm was growing between you, distance expanding with every word. He didn’t want you that way. Pinche ilusa! How could he ever want you that way? You snarled instead of crying, “Alright, I will, but don’t expect me here at two in the morning.”

His smile was bitter, mean. “I won’t.” 

Your returning smile was filled with spite. Anger bubbling in your throat, you saw red. “Pinche pendejo, deveras.”  (Such a fucking prick), it hurt to smile. You didn’t even want to think about the last time you used your Spanish. But his hardened eyes and clenched jaw brought out the most impulsive sides of you. 

Beside you, Nat and Bucky tensed. You lifted your downward gaze toward them. Their heads were cocked to the side, assessing… You’d never slipped into your native tongue.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “I’m going to get ready, Nat! See you at eight!” Smiled at them both before prancing to the elevator, assuming a mask of joy, heart sunken in.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The elevator doors closed in front of you, taking you from him. The Winter Soldier's gaze lingered on the spot where you'd disappeared, his eyes burning with a mix of longing and frustration before snapping toward his adversary.

The soldier was full of rage. Flowers had bloomed through the cracks in his stone heart only to wilt because of her.

The redheaded sensed the obvious danger, and spoke in a language the soldier didn’t understand. He understood her disappointment with him, which displeased the soldier.

“говорить демон.” The soldier growled, beckoning the demon to speak, try and save herself. 

She had been a friend…The redheaded demon responded in his language. “You were taking too long, and I couldn’t take any more of her sulking… So speak up or forever hold your peace, soldier. You don’t get to wallow in self-pity and watch life passing you by, cursing time for moving on and not standing still, you can’t unwind the clock, soldier, you can only go forward… So decide carefully before it’s too late.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, bereft of oxygen. What had he done? Had the soldier really come back because of you? The threat of losing you?

He somehow found himself in his room. He didn’t quite remember how he got there. His brain a haze of frustration and defeat.

His room felt wrong, empty, and cold. He didn’t even approach his bed, knowing how that whole schtick would go. So Bucky paced and paced, his mind running around in circles. 

And what was that whole thing about liking older men? How was he supposed to take it? 

He knew he had fucked up. But he wasn’t about to go crash your date… So he went to his training room. Came back to the land of the living hours later, an unknown familiar face framed by gold hair staring down at him. Warmth pressed against his mouth and he drank greedily.

“…can’t keep hurting yourself like this, Buck.”

Bucky groaned in response and in acknowledgment. Looked at his friend’s concerned eyes. His chest ached with nostalgia, love, regret… everything. “That’s my line, punk.” His voice came out unsteady.

The ground moved underneath him, yanked by his metal arm toward Steve into a tight hug. For a moment Bucky’s arms hovered uncertainly and he could feel a Steve’s large body shake against him. So he hugged his friend back. He had been neglecting Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Stevie, it’s alright.” His voice was fond. He was yanked once again. Twin grips on his shoulders shook him with more force than merited. 

“No, you stupid idiot! It’s not alright…” For a moment Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but he knew how Bucky was, so he kept in his spiel and sighed dramatically. “Come on, let’s get some food in your poor body.”

Steve tried to help Bucky walk, which ended up with Captain America being whacked upside the head. The blonde turned to Bucky with fake offence, instead deciding to drag him to the kitchen by force. Oh, how things changed…

Steve had changed…he managed to beat Bucky in a stare-down. Even in his forties after the serum   that only happened once in a blue moon. So Bucky found himself eating a sandwich and a big glass of electrolytes with resentment. His leg bounced with vigor. 

He kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding Steve’s too observant eyes, eyes that knew him since childhood.

As soon as the last bite had been swallowed, Bucky looked up. Only to regret it instantly. Steve had a resolved expression. A glint in his eyes that told him to run. So he did. Not ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have.

“Where’s Banner?” He pushed off the table in a harsh, sudden movement.

Steve’s face fell, confused and hurt. “Huh?”

“I need a cigarette.”

He got furrowed brows and a cocked head in response.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

A few blocks away, your leg bounced anxiously. Unbeknownst to you mirroring the person who caused your stress, .

You sat across from Nat, your date an uncomfortable breath away.  The tension between you palpable as you struggled to make small talk with him. Thigh pressed to bouncing thigh. You wanted to turn pleading eyes to Nat. And for what? You had come here out of your own volition. Fuck. You needed a smoke. You tried to convince yourself you wanted to be here. If he didn’t want you, you deserved someone who did.

A meaty hand slid against your bare skin. Ala mierda… Yeah, no… Abort.

“Calm down, baby… you are all… amped up… how about we go outside and—”

“That’s a good idea.” 

You got a sleazy grin and a flash of eerily perfect teeth. His were a charmingly imperfect; he wouldn’t call you baby. He would call you doll….

“I am going outside by myself. I need a smoke. Besides— I left my lighter at home.”

“I-”

“No, thank you. Sorry, Nat.” You flashed your not-so-sorry gaze toward her. 

She was amused. “Go! by all means. I’ll get the check.” She moved her hand, shooing you off.

A grip on your arm stopped you. “Don’t tell me it’s because of that creepy guy with murder in his eyes.”

You shivered, giddy with pleasure. It was too obvious of a response for it to fly over your date’s head.

“It is! He stares at you like you hurt him. Like he wants to tie you up in his bed and never let you leave!”

Your wicked grin was enough for him to let you go with a huff of disgust. You didn’t care, kissing Nat’s cheek. “Goodbye, you evil woman.” 

She spanked your ass, sending you off. You turned one last time toward her, grinning. Your smiles reflecting glee and mirth.

You walked around the city for a while. Savoring being able to do so without recrimination. 

You weren’t delusional; you should’ve known better. Yet you were so blinded by self-doubt that you closed your eyes.

Bucky wasn’t loud with his emotions, ever. He swallowed them whole, drowned in them. Even if he wanted you, he was too prideful and scared of being hurt. Countless sleepless nights and nights where it was avoided deliberately to see each other told of a man who was interested in you in some capacity.

You weren’t dumb, you just chose to ignore the evidence. Turning a blind eye to the staggering difference in the way he spoke to you versus literally anyone else. He gave you preferential treatment. You cuddled every night for fucks sake! And you doubted that he cared for you? He couldn’t sleep without you, and vice versa! 

You checked your phone. 2:03 a.m. What were you stalling for? 

You smiled all the way back to the tower.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The third time the elevator doors pinged, Bucky’s hope had worn out. Expecting Steve or Natasha. The latter had come from the double date alone. “I told you to leave me alone to— what had you called it?— wallow in self-pity and the consequences of my own actions or whatever.” He raised a shaking hand, knuckles cracked and bleeding— he was embarassed to admit he had succumed to his baser needs and punched a wall out of frustration— taking a drag of a cigarette. It tasted radioactive… but it smelled like you. He coughed softly.

An achingly familiar laugh startled him from his stupor. He swerved around with wide eyes. A kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar… “What are you doing here? If you’re here to tell me about — I don’t want to hear it.” He grumbled. Yes, you were friends, but he really, really didn’t want to hear about you sleeping or even breathing in near another man. He took another drag of your cigarette. Filled his lungs with smoke, his blood with chemicals. Okay, yes. He got it now.

“You big, stupid man.” The candor of your voice dripped with irritation. You stomped toward him, heels clacking against the floor, and snatched the smoke from him in harsh movements.

He grunted in response, out of his depth, and turned his gaze toward the skyline. He was aware of your every movement. You took two drags and stomped a perfectly good half of a cigarette with your heel.

He turned to glare at you, giving you a once-over. Fucking helllll….. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bucky needed to dump cold water on himself ASAP. He was reminded of the many, many long showers he had jerked off in before joining you in bed. They were always futile, super soldier refractory period, and your soft skin, and— you were wearing a mini skirt and a top that accentuated your tits. Bucky mentally clutched his 100-year-old pearls. His breath hitching. Eyes catching on thighs— THIGHS. And boobsp—BOOBS!Before meeting your pleased predatory gaze. 

You took one step toward him, he took one step back.

“I’m going to ask you something, please answer me honestly— Why don’t you want to hear about my date?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” he ground out his non-answer.

“Why are your knuckles bleeding? Why are you smoking my cigarette?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” He repeated, body tense, ready to pounce, touch, taste. You looked so beautiful. The soft night lights illuminating your tinted lips, your glittery eyelids, bringing the color out of your iris.

“Well, I found myself seated next to him and thinking: Jamie wouldn’t say that— but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t you.”

This time when you advanced toward him, his feet stayed planted in place. Your took your time advancing toward him. And you were taller now, easier to reach with those long heels. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up against him.

His arousal grew to unavoidable levels. Pushing against your hip. “Fuck, doll. You can’t— I’m wrong for you, all messed up and angry. And from the forties…” His fingers clenched and unclenched on his sides. He was lacking in excuses to touch you. His limbs itched to hold you. Dig into you.

“Well, I hate to repeat myself, but I see I have to. I’ve told you I like my men a little bit older… And maybe I’m a bit messed up too. Because seeing you all fucked up and angry…. Well, I wasn’t upset.”

“I can’t sleep without you. I dream of you, I—”

You smiled with glee, “I know, Natasha was all too pleased to explain to me the mechanics of ‘morning wood’”

Bucky groaned in response. Letting his hands, metal and otherwise, slide against your hips. It was nothing like cuddling; his intentions were impure. They had always been, but he had not felt any past guilt over his arousal, unashemed in his guilt, he felt no need to neglect his urges no— unless you told him otherwise.

He could tell you had some snarky response in the makings. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off your face. If you thought he would be taking the subservient route, you were gravely mistaken. At least right now he needed to be in control, needed you to trust him. Needed you. 

Your eyes glinted with snark, your mouth opening to tease. His hand coasted up your back, to your nape, his fingers gliding into your hair to pull you toward him. Your eyes widened in surprise, pupils blown out. Good, you thought too much; he needed to make your brain shut up for a bit.

He held his breath as he leaned in, hummed with satisfaction once your lips pressed against his. Your lips, so soft against his. He needed more. He gripped your hip, conscious of the strength in his metal arm, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, but he did want to leave a mark. You gasped in pleasure. Your hands yanked on his hair, and he groaned against your lips.

He set his sights on a wall three paces away, pushing against you. So malleable under him, succumbing so easily to his ministrations, like putty under his hands. His blood sang with the escalating volume of your noises. With each step he took forward, you met with a step back. You gasped as your back met the wall.

“Jamie... please," your voice was so whiny, so desperate it made his cock hurt with arousal. Blood rushed in his ears; he needed more, needed you begging. Undone.

He yanked on the base of your hair with one hand, exposing your neck for him. He was oh so happy to kiss and lick your skin. You whined and shifted against him... sensitive. His other hand slid down your skirt until it met skin. Groaning against your neck, he slid his hand up, up, finally reaching your perfect ass. He couldn't feel any underwear... Fuck... he might've been from the forties, but he had internet access, and he could call a spade a spade, or in this case, a thong a thong. He yanked on the flimsy thing, so it snapped back against your skin.

You whimpered and panted, eyes closed in bliss. He could feel your hips shift, as if chasing after stimulation. And who was he to deny you?

He placed both hands just below your ass, lifting you up and pulling them apart, a silent command you gladly followed with a whine and a curse word in Spanish.

You locked your legs around his waist; his erection pressed against your warmth, and his soft cotton pants were doing nothing to help his desperation. He gave up on holding himself back when your lips met his once again, your hips jerking against him.

It was the best thing he had ever felt since... ever. His fingers spread on either side of your ass, your back supported by the wall. He was beyond words, and so were you.

His cotton pants were soaked with your arousal, hiding nothing. He could feel everything: your pussy open for his cock to grind on, your underwear had twisted to the side. He lost all ability to think, his conscious motor skills deciding to go offline, the only movement he could do was jerking his hips. His lips opened to pant like a dog. It was your turn to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated, as he ground against you.

He had half a mind to be aware of his strength, but each time he tested the waters, pressing harder against you, you moaned louder. So it wasn't long before he realized you could take it, take all of him.

His body trembled with built-up tension. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. His hands flexed and tightened on your ass, pressing you harder against him, making the friction so much sweeter. He chased the pleasure with a one-track mind, couldn't think of anything but your scent, skin, taste – for years, he had felt numb, and you brought him back to life. He hadn't thought he'd be able to feel such exquisite pleasure; it was you who had his hips jerking, dry humping like teenagers. He didn't care.

Your fingers clawed at his back, nails scratching his skin; you had long ago stopped kissing him, opting instead for panting against his neck.

Pleasure built and built, mind-numbing. You were saying something... begging for him... He threw his head back and groaned as his pleasure crested, stars exploding behind his eyes; he couldn't see...

His hips jerked with aftershocks, breaths harsh against your neck; his pants were soiled with his come and your arousal. Your legs slackened, dropping to the floor. Most of your body weight rested on the wall, the rest supported by his hands. He had two functioning brain cells, both reminding him of his selfishness.

You didn't look displeased with him, though; your skirt was bunched up at the hips, top in disarray. Your eye makeup was a mess, and he loved that. Your panties were slid to the far side, showing off your glistening cunt.

His knees hit the floor before he even realized what he was doing. He felt your thighs shake against his skin as he leaned in to look closer. Your clit was swollen and dark. He leaned in to kiss, to suck. Fingers pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“S’ too sensitive," your voice wavered.

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking up inquisitively at you.

“Came. Twice," you clarified, tone shaky with satisfaction.  your gaze followed his movements as he stood up to cradle your face, tilting your head to kiss you softly. He sucked on your teeth before stopping the kiss.

“Huh, didn't notice. You felt too good I went crazy. Too bad though, I want to feel you come on my face and on my cock."

You smiled, satisfied, a cat who finally got the cream “Sure, later," you muttered against him.

“Whenever you want, doll face," he smiled down on you. You looked fucked all the way to next week, and he hadn't even dicked you down yet. “Come on, let's get cleaned up."

You hummed, wrapping your arms around him in a silent request; he obliged happily, carrying you bridal-style all the way to his room.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jamie was so soft, so careful with you. Your head was hazy with the aftermath of pleasure. No orgasm in your past could hold a flame to the explosive bliss from the earlier encounter.

Your head was hazy as he led you to his bathroom, your mind too fucked out for processing his room. You complied with whichever way he tugged your limbs, sliding off your rumpled clothes, until the only thing on your body were your high heels.

He knelt in front of you, his touch tender, as if apologizing for moments ago when he ground on you without thought. His cool metal fingers skated up your calf, reaching up to support your knee, as his other hand worked on the latch of your heels. He pressed a kiss to each ankle before standing up in front of you.

You blinked slowly, your eyes trained on him. He was still clothed. Why was he still clothed? Your gaze caught on the wet patch on his pants, outlining his half hard dick. Praise super-soldier metabolism.

You planted your feet on the white marble floor, your arms stretching out toward him, fingers curling into his shirt and yanking. “Off."

He grinned softly – you would never, ever get enough of his smiles – before sliding his shirt off in one swift movement.

Your breath caught in your throat—fuck, he was beautiful.

“Beautiful Jamie," you said, taking a step closer. You slid one hand up his chest, using the other to trace fingers along scar tissue. He was so… captivating, so utterly himself, that you felt like you were the only person in the world who got to see him like this “Only for me, only I get to see you like this." You turned to throw him a challenging glare.

“Doll, I wouldn't have it any other way, and I don't share either. Call me old-fashioned –"

“If I see you with another woman, James, I swear to God, I will break my killing streak. And all three of us will end up in a –" Rage had barely simmered from the image before he had yanked on your hips to pull you into another kiss.

“Easy there, Doll, there's no one else," his voice was so satisfied, an assured tinge to his candor, in a way you knew it only got for you. You were so fucking stupid for not noticing.

“Good," you yanked on his pants. “So... super-soldier dick... how long can you go? I bet we can get Jamie junior tired."

He laughed loudly, the sound enough for you to shiver with pleasure. “Doll, I don't think you could keep up with me; you'd pass out. You don’t understand how many times I can go if it's with you."

“Well, surely you can keep count if I'm passed out... set a record."

His laugh was disbelieving. “I don't want to fuck you when you're unconscious; I want you awake and making those sweet, delicious sounds."

“Another time, then – take off your pants."

“As you wish."

You tried, you really did, to focus on cleaning yourself once you'd gotten inside the shower. But you didn't fight the urge to slide your fingers into his scalp and help him clean his hair. Forcing him into a crouch to aid your reach, resting his face on your shoulder.

His touch was gentle, a silent decision to wash each other. He went first. You pressed your fingers, massaging the soap against his skin, fingers traveling lower, your eyes fixed on his cock. He was beautiful. Your fingers reached his hips; he was fully hard at that point, leaking. You couldn't stop yourself; you had planned on teasing him, but his cock was too pretty, red and wet with pre-come. Your soap-slicked hands circled his cock... and damn the groan that fell from his lips was unlike anything – the groans before had been rough, taking. This one was desperate, needing.

You took him in both hands, dragging your thumb against his leaking tip. He threw his head back and groaned, fingers digging into the skating over your waist.

You dragged your touch up and down his length, your eyes studying his every movement: his clenched jaw, and tightened face. He was holding his sounds back; that wouldn't do. You tightened your grip, fastened your pace – only to have your movements halted by his tight grip on your wrist. His gaze was heavy on yours. “The next time I'm coming, I'm doing it inside you."

Tension filled the air as he had his turn, took his time cleaning you. He was so clinical it was driving you insane. But you could tell he was restraining himself, his movements rushed; he had an end goal in mind.

You dried off quickly, not mentioning the fact that showering would prove futile with what you had in mind. The night was young; it was barely 3 am.

The anticipation was thick in each deep breath you took. As soon as you had crossed the doorway to his bedroom, you couldn't restrain yourself. You turned toward him, but he beat you to the first move, yanking on your arm and throwing you over his shoulder; you laughed as he spanked your ass.

The next moment, your body was airborne before your back bounced softly on his bed.

You leaned on your shoulders, breasts heaving with each breath, thighs open.

“Do you know how much I've wanted you, how long... I thought I was going to go crazy with how much I needed you," he said, crawling on top of you. Kissing you once chastely, your breath hitching. You were out of your depth; this was a completely new situation, and you were loving every second of it. He featherlight kisses peppered over your jaw, below your ear, along your neck – your body twisted and turned – over your collarbone, down... “You're so beautiful, Doll— I had to restrain myself back there. You deserve worship." His gruff voice was all the warning you got before he latched on to a nipple and sucked, cool metal fingers rolling your neglected nipple between his fingers, awakening erogenous zones that made their debut with a bang.

“Ala puta, mierda..." This bliss was unlike anything. Your hips jerked, your cunt pounded with need. Warm fingers slid your pussy open, circling your clit. You could feel every nerve sing with pleasure. Your toes curled, the balls of your feet pressing down against the bed.

He slid one finger into your cunt, and your whole body jerked in response. “Ala madre – ala madreeee!" Your head lolled, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn't form coherent thought; your brain deciding to go offline.

Pleasure built and built, still sensitive from the past two orgasms. Just when you found yourself at the precipice, you were left bereft of pleasure, cut off from his touch. You looked at him with betrayal.

“No need for that, Dollface— you'll come soon. I want it to be on my cock— give me a second I’m going to get a condo –"

“NO!" You wanted to feel him and you wanted him inside you now .

“All right, Doll, and while I would love to put a baby inside you, I'm not sure I'm ready to share you yet –"

“I’m on birth control! I'm clean; I haven't – in years." Your voice was desperate, he smiled slowly at the neediness in your tone.

He shut you up with a kiss, fingers digging into the soft of your thighs, holding you open for him.

You felt yourself lose clarity, tears streaming down your face.You needed his cock inside you now.

You didn't have to wait long; soon enough he pressed his tip inside you. He was big... You babbled and pleaded for more to no avail. His fingers traced your skin, grounding you, as he slid in inch by delicious inch, until he was fully sheathed. Your body writhed under him with pleasure. It was a tight fit, bordering on a little bit painful. The slight pinch only made the feelings more heightened as your cunt pulsed around him.

You tried to beg him to “move," but none of the languages in your repertoire seemed to be available. So you were left a whining mess. He got the message. Felt his cock slide out of you only to slam into you so hard you saw stars. You could feel the exact moment he lost control, went feral and pussy-drunk. His thrusts were severe and hard, thrusting himself until your pelvises slammed together, the sound of your skin meeting his echoing through the room.

You were crying out, nails searching for pleasure on his back.

It didn't take long for your pleasure to peak; it ebbed and rose in waves. You weren't sure where your orgasm ended and another one began. Had started to come down only to have him pinch your clit and –

It was so good; you took everything he gave you greedily, you had been fulfilled a while ago your needs met ages ago. You were there for him to fuck however many times he wanted—  drenched with your arousal and his come. His hips would stutter, and you'd feel a rush of his come, warm and drenching you. He'd slow down for a few moments, making you think it was over, hips sputtering softly inside you. He'd kiss your skin softly in apology and harden inside you again.

He made good on his promise. Once you were close to passing out, he stopped.

Your full body shook as he cleaned you with warm towels, your mind unresponsive as he moved your limbs softly to slide on one of his hoodies and boxer briefs.

You were halfway to dreamland when he wrapped his arms around you, the room reeking of sex.

“…Doll... Mine... Love... Love you..." His voice was soft, and it barely processed as you fell asleep in his arms.

Did process enough for you to reply a sleepy, “Love you more."

Please remember to leave your kind thoughts in the comments (they fuel me), and if you enjoyed support with reblogs, ok thanks for reading love ya hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻!!!!

[starch1ldz]

No one mourns the wicked.

No One mourns the wicked.

[awkwardgiraffe726]

Omg if I didn’t feel all of her goofy feels reading this 🥰😆🫠

CRUSHED CONFUSION— bucky barnes

WARNINGS: masturbation, sexual frustration, implied sex.



You weren’t supposed to be like this.

The past few nights had been unbearable. You tossed and turned in bed, frustration coiling deep in your stomach, your body restless. No matter how hard you tried, sleep wouldn’t come—not when your thoughts were completely consumed by him.

Steve.

The golden boy. The man you’d been crushing on for ages, silently, secretly. No one knew, and you liked it that way. He was everything you could ever want—strong yet gentle, kind yet firm. You imagined his hands on you, his soothing voice whispering sweet things in your ear, his soft lips pressing against your skin.

And so, in the dead of night, unable to take the heat between your legs anymore, you reached for your vibrator.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind wander. You imagined Steve above you, his lips brushing over yours, his hands trailing down your body, slow and careful—because of course, he’d be gentle with you. He’d take his time, savor you, worship you.

Your back arched, your breath coming out in soft gasps as pleasure built higher and higher.

But then—A different voice entered your mind.

A raspier, deeper voice.

Come on, sweetheart, you can take it.

Your breath hitched. That wasn’t Steve. That wasn’t even close.

Suddenly, your fantasy shifted. Rough hands replaced soft ones. Teasing lips, a knowing smirk, dark blue eyes that didn’t hold gentle adoration—but something far more dangerous.

Bucky.

You whimpered, your thighs clenching. Why were you thinking about him? You barely spoke to Bucky. Sure, he was attractive—anyone with eyes could see that—but he wasn’t Steve. He was sharp where Steve was soft, unfiltered where Steve was polite.

But none of that seemed to matter anymore.

In your mind, Bucky wasn’t gentle. He didn’t take his time—he took what he wanted. He’d pin you down, his metal arm holding you in place, his breath hot against your ear as he growled against your skin. He wouldn’t whisper sweet nothings—no, he’d taunt, tease, command.

Your body tensed, pleasure hitting you like a freight train. And when you came undone, it wasn’t Steve’s name that tumbled from your lips.

It was Bucky’s.

Your eyes snapped open, your chest rising and falling rapidly as shock coursed through you.

What the hell just happened?

You stared at the ceiling, heart hammering in your chest. You had never thought about Bucky like that before. At least… you didn’t think you had. So why the hell did your body react to him in a way it never did for Steve?

You rolled over, groaning into your pillow.

You were so screwed.

—

Avoiding Bucky was easier said than done.

You tried. You really did. You took the long way around hallways, busied yourself whenever he entered the room, refused to make eye contact. But it was like the universe wanted you to suffer—because, of course, you ended up being paired with him for a mission.

And it was a disaster.

You couldn’t focus. Every time he spoke, his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Every time he moved, your eyes betrayed you, flickering to the way his muscles flexed beneath his tactical gear. And every time he touched you—even just a simple brush of his fingers—your breath caught in your throat.

You were losing it.

The worst part? He noticed.

Bucky kept giving you these looks—curious, amused, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his eyes on you, studying every nervous twitch, every stuttered response.

And then the mission went to hell.

The building was collapsing. You were supposed to clear out quickly, but a wrong turn led the two of you straight into a locked storage room, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind you.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, trying the handle. It didn’t budge.

You swallowed hard, pressing your back against the opposite wall. The room was small, barely enough space for the two of you. The dim emergency lighting cast shadows over Bucky’s sharp features, making him look even more intimidating.

“Alright, doll, let’s get this open,” he said, stepping closer.

Too close.

You stiffened as his chest nearly brushed against yours. The scent of gunpowder and something distinctly Bucky surrounded you, making your head spin. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, and suddenly, you weren’t thinking about the mission anymore.

You were thinking about that night. The way you moaned his name. The way you imagined his hands gripping you, his breath against your skin—

Heat rushed to your face. Oh, God.

“You good?” Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You nodded too quickly. “Y-Yeah! Fine! Totally fine!”

His brows furrowed. “You sure? You’re acting weird.”

“I am not acting weird,” you squeaked.

He gave you a look. “Sweetheart, you’ve barely said a word to me all week, and now you look like you’re about to pass out.”

You bit your lip, cursing yourself. Get it together!

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing!”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s a damn lie.”

“I just—” You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “I just need some space, okay?”

Bucky’s expression shifted—his amusement fading into something more serious. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Did I do something?” he asked.

Your stomach twisted. He almost sounded… hurt.

“No! No, you didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. It’s me. I’m the problem.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The moment your eyes locked, your body betrayed you again. Heat bloomed in your chest, your pulse quickening. Why did he have to be so damn attractive?

Bucky’s expression flickered. His eyes darkened just slightly, and you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch—like he knew exactly what was running through your head.

“You’re blushing,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “You so are.”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire. Abort mission. Abort mission.

Bucky stepped closer again, his voice dropping. “What changed, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

You could not tell him the truth. No way in hell.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried, but even you didn’t believe it.

Bucky did not look convinced. In fact, his smirk only grew.

“Oh, I think you do,” he murmured.

You let out a strangled noise, your legs feeling like jelly. This was so much worse than you imagined.

Bucky knew.

You could see it in his eyes—the flicker of amusement, the slow realization creeping into his expression. He might not have figured out everything, but he damn sure knew something was up.

You swallowed hard, your back pressing against the cold metal shelves behind you. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape his piercing gaze.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drawled, tilting his head. “You’re actin’ real strange.”

“I’m not!” you blurted, voice higher than usual.

His smirk widened. “Lyin’ to a supersoldier? Bold move.”

You clenched your fists, heat crawling up your neck. damn it, why was he so—

“I think I figured it out.” His voice dipped lower, teasing.

Your breath hitched. “Figured what out?”

Bucky stepped forward, erasing the last bit of space between you. His body just barely grazed yours, the heat of him suffocating in the small, dimly lit storage room. You swore your heart stopped beating.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, watching you like a predator cornering its prey. “Blushing every time I’m near. Jumping outta your skin when I speak.”

“I—I don’t—”

His flesh hand lifted, brushing the barest hint of your wrist. A barely-there touch, but it sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“Tell me the truth, doll.” His voice was softer now. Less teasing, more… something else. Something unreadable.

Your throat went dry. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“I…” You squeezed your eyes shut. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t—

But the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I thought about you.”

Silence.

Your eyes snapped open. Bucky had gone completely still, his expression unreadable. You wanted to die, wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

His fingers twitched at his side. “…What?”

You exhaled shakily, pressing your palms against your burning face. “Oh my God, forget I said anything.”

“No.” His voice was sharp. Commanding. “Say it again.”

You groaned. “Bucky, I really don’t think—”

“Say it.”

Your breath hitched. You peeked up at him through your fingers. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark and searching. The teasing lilt from before was gone.

You licked your lips nervously. “I thought about you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

His nostrils flared, his metal hand curling into a fist. His reaction only made the heat inside you worse.

“When?” he rasped.

Your entire body ignited. He knew exactly what he was asking.

You whimpered, turning your face away. “Bucky—”

“When, sweetheart?” he pressed, his voice lower now, almost dangerous.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You couldn’t lie. Not when he was looking at you like that, like he was waiting for you to confirm whatever thought was running through his head.

“At Night,” you whispered. “In my room.”

The air crackled between you.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his metal fingers twitching. He looked tense. Restless. Almost… desperate.

You swallowed hard. “Say something.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. Then, before you could react, he let out a low chuckle.

You froze. “What’s so funny?”

He smirked, eyes flickering over your face. “You’ve been drivin’ yourself crazy over this, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks burned. “Obviously!”

Another chuckle. “And all this time, you’ve been avoiding me ‘cause you’re embarrassed?”

“Yes!”

Bucky hummed, tapping his fingers against his thigh. His eyes were still locked on yours, intense and unreadable.

Then, suddenly, he leaned in.

You gasped, your body pressing further into the shelves. He was so close, his breath fanning over your cheek, his scent overwhelming.

“You should’ve told me sooner, doll,” he murmured, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

Your knees nearly buckled. “Bucky—”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, his smirk softer now. More genuine.

“Next time?” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me be there instead of just in your head.”

Your mouth fell open, your entire body going hot.

Before you could even begin to process that, the storage door burst open, and Sam’s voice rang out.

“The hell are you two doing in here?”

You nearly collapsed.

Your entire body froze.

Sam stood in the doorway, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. The overhead lights from the hallway cast his shadow into the room, but it was nothing compared to the tension hanging in the air between you and Bucky.

You scrambled back, nearly tripping over your own feet. “N-Nothing! We weren’t doing anything!”

Sam’s eyes flicked between the two of you, his frown deepening. “Uh-huh.”

Bucky, on the other hand, was too calm. Leaning casually against the shelf, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Lifting his chin toward you, he murmured, “You sure about that, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Oh, that smug bastard.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” you blurted, pushing past him. “Absolutely not! We were just—uh—trying to get the door open. Which is open now! Thanks, Sam! Bye!”

You didn’t wait for a response. You bolted down the hall, your face on fire, heart pounding so hard you swore it would burst.

You didn’t stop until you were safely inside your room, pressing your back against the door.

What the hell just happened?

You exhaled sharply, running a hand over your face. Your whole body was still buzzing, replaying the way Bucky had looked at you. The way his voice dipped when he told you—

“Next time, let me be there instead of just in your head.”

Your stomach flipped.

You needed to get a grip.

—

The next day, you tried to go back to avoiding Bucky.

Tried and failed.

Because unlike before—when he was amused but oblivious—now he knew.

And he wasn’t letting you get away with it.

Everywhere you turned, he was there. Not even being subtle about it. Sitting next to you at breakfast, standing way too close in the gym, brushing against your arm in the hallway. And every time, he’d send you these looks.

Like he was waiting.

Like he was daring you to bring it up.

It was infuriating.

By day three, you were at your breaking point.

“Why are you like this?!” you hissed at him in the common room, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

Bucky just smirked, sipping his coffee. “Like what?”

“Like this!” You threw your hands up. “Following me around, staring at me, teasing me—”

His grin widened. “I like teasin’ you.”

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You gasped. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I literally do.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, if you hated me, you wouldn’t have been moanin’ my name the other night.”

Your soul left your body.

Natasha—who had been minding her own business on the couch—choked on her drink.

You turned bright red, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I—you—Nat, I—”

Nat raised her hands. “Nope. Nope, I don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna know.” She stood, grabbing her coffee. “I’m just gonna leave you two to… whatever this is.”

You watched in horror as she walked out, giving you a knowing smirk before disappearing down the hall.

You turned back to Bucky, who looked way too pleased with himself.

“You’re evil,” you whispered.

He took another sip of coffee, completely unfazed. “And yet, you still thought about me.”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “I hate you.”

Bucky chuckled.

And then, to your absolute horror—he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Liar.”

You were going to die.

Not in battle, not on a mission—no, you were going to combust from sheer humiliation.

Bucky’s lips barely brushed your ear, but it was enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine. The heat of him, the teasing rasp in his voice—it was too much.

You launched yourself backward, nearly knocking over the coffee table in your attempt to put space between you.

“I hate you so much,” you hissed, face on fire.

Bucky just smirked, completely at ease. “You keep sayin’ that, sweetheart, but your body’s tellin’ me something real different.”

Your mouth dropped open in pure horror. “Oh my God—”

“Bucky, stop tormenting her,” Steve’s voice cut in as he entered the room, arms crossed.

You immediately snapped to attention. Steve.

Right. You were supposed to have a crush on Steve. Not his insufferably smug best friend who had somehow taken up permanent residence in your head and between your legs.

Bucky’s smirk faltered slightly. He glanced at Steve, then back at you.

You quickly looked away, cheeks still burning.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know what you did, but knock it off.”

Bucky raised his hands in mock innocence. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

Steve gave him a look before turning to you. “You okay?”

Your stomach twisted with guilt. Steve was being sweet, as always, but… his presence didn’t have the same effect on you anymore.

Not like Bucky.

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Fine.”

Steve studied you for a second, then nodded. “Alright. We’ve got training in ten. Don’t be late.”

With that, he left the room.

The moment he was gone, you felt Bucky’s eyes on you again. When you turned to glare at him, his smirk had disappeared—replaced with something… unreadable.

Something that made your heart stutter.

“You don’t look at him the way you look at me,” Bucky murmured.

Your breath caught.

You should have denied it. Should have told him he was wrong. Should have done something to wipe that knowing look off his stupidly attractive face.

But you didn’t.

Because he was right.

And you had no idea what to do about it.

—

You avoided Bucky for the rest of the day. Again.

This time, though, it wasn’t just out of embarrassment—it was because you were confused.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that Steve was the one you wanted. That he was your dream guy. That he was perfect.

And yet…

Why did Bucky’s voice send a thrill down your spine?

Why did his teasing make your pulse race?

Why did the idea of him pinning you against a wall make your knees weak?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the knock on your door that night.

Almost.

You hesitated, then slowly opened it—only to find Bucky standing there, leaning against the frame.

Your heart skipped. “Bucky—”

“We need to talk.” His voice was different. No teasing, no smugness. Just serious. Low.

Your stomach flipped.

You hesitated, but stepped aside, letting him in.

He closed the door behind him, then turned to you, arms crossed. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

You swallowed hard. “Nothing’s going on.”

Bucky scoffed. “Bullshit.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Bucky, I don’t—”

“Is it Steve?”

You froze.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “You still want him?”

Your mouth opened—but no words came out.

Because you didn’t know.

You had spent so long thinking you did. But now? After the other night? After Bucky had wormed his way into your head and stayed there?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

Bucky exhaled sharply. “I ain’t him,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I ain’t the golden boy. I ain’t gentle. I ain’t soft.” His eyes met yours, dark and intense. “But don’t pretend you don’t want me anyway.”

Your breath hitched.

The air crackled between you, thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

You could lie. You could tell him he was wrong. You could pretend that your body didn’t burn whenever he was near.

But instead, you whispered—

“…I don’t know what I want.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours. His metal fingers twitched at his side.

Then, after a long pause—he nodded.

“Figure it out,” he murmured, voice rough. “But don’t take too long, sweetheart.”

And then, before you could even breathe, he turned and walked out—leaving you wrecked in the middle of your room.

You barely slept.

Bucky’s words replayed in your head over and over again.

“Figure it out. But don’t take too long, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—like he knew you wanted him, like he was daring you to admit it—had left you restless.

And the worst part? He was right.

You didn’t want Steve. Not really. Maybe you had at one point, but now?

You wanted Bucky.

You wanted his teasing smirks, his sharp wit, his rough hands. You wanted the heat in his gaze when he looked at you, the way he always seemed to get under your skin.

You wanted him.

And you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

So, before you could second-guess yourself, you slipped out of bed and made your way to his room.

—

Bucky opened the door on the first knock, like he’d been waiting.

His eyes flickered over your face, searching. “Sweetheart—”

“I figured it out,” you blurted, pulse racing.

Bucky stilled.

You swallowed hard, stepping closer. “I want you.”

Something shifted in his expression—his features darkening, his jaw tightening. His metal fingers curled around the doorframe.

“You sure?” His voice was low, rough.

“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt.

For a second, he just looked at you, unreadable. Then, without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

—

The next morning, you woke up tangled in Bucky’s sheets, his arm draped heavily over your waist.

Your entire body ached in the best way possible.

You blinked, your mind still hazy from the night before. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way his voice had sounded against your ear—low, rough, possessive.

A flush crept up your neck.

You shifted slightly, and Bucky grumbled, tightening his grip around you. “Mm. Not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

Your heart flipped.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “So, um…”

Bucky cracked one eye open, smirking. “Yeah?”

You swallowed. “What… what does this mean?”

His smirk softened. He reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “It means you’re mine.”

Your breath caught.

He tilted his head. “That a problem?”

You stared at him—at the cocky smirk, the warmth in his blue eyes, the certainty in his voice.

And, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel confused.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “No.”

Bucky grinned. “Good.”

Then he pulled you back down, pressing his lips to yours—like he had no intention of letting you go.

[shamrockqueen]

Strong and gentle

Pairing : Warrior prince Bucky x Timid Princess Reader

Warnings : R18, Teasing, Clit stimulation, Virgin reader, Orgasm denial

Word count : 2459

Bucky masterlist

He proved to be a warm light, drawing you in like the tiny moth to be burned by his flame. Yet, he never let you get burned by his fire, keeping your soft, velvety wings intact while showing you a new tantalizing dance with danger.

What an innocent little moth you were at first. So surprised, wrought with vapors at the sight of someone so much taller and older, with a personality and confidence that befitted a well-traveled and well-aged Man. He was no prince you had ever seen, a warrior that was cut and marred with aging scars along his skin. His eyes held no innocence while still gazing upon you with warmth and gentleness. You were so soft and plush compared with the deep callouses he carried both on his skin and in his weighted heart.

You shied away from him almost immediately. If your mother had accompanied you here, surely you would have been hiding behind her skirts.

You felt so terribly out of place at his side. So small, like a tawdry bauble. To be an opulent pearl, pinned to his collar with all the others. But, he never treated you as such, taking care to soothe your anxieties instead.

The many extra years he had over you was what made him so different. It was years of experience both in the political torment within his kingdom and the expansive world that sat far beyond its reaches.

But, he found it cute, endearing, soft, and especially delicate. He wanted to crack you, only a little, make you just the smallest amount sharp so as to be the edge that could cut him without losing your admirable shape.

He’d tend to your garden, watching with earnest as your flowers finally bloomed before him. Your beautiful hidden rose unfolding before his very eyes as you finally opened up to him. Slowly, but tantalizing without pushing your last boundary down just yet.

It would be his own fault, for it was he that made an awful monster out of you, coaxed it with his fingers and his tongue without having to break you open and ravage the rest of your innocence. He made you dirty, sullied by lust and yet still so pure.

You lifted the soft lace of your nightdress, pressing your knees and thighs apart and spreading yourself along the bed, nearly kneeling as you pulled the fabric up to show the soft skin of your legs to him in the dim candlelight. This is what you’ve been reduced to, tempting him, using your body as sweet succulent bait so as to seduce that feral side of your darling betrothed.

He stepped along the cold stone tile of your shared facilities, each large and hard muscle of his legs pinching with every slow stride, and you watched as the taut muscle of his buttock dimpled with a quick flex.

He was hard marble turned to flesh, a statuesque warrior brought to life before your young eyes.

Could he crack you with the simple twist of his wrist? Possibly. But, he’d never be so callous with you. He knew you to be delicate and pushed you only as far as you allowed so as to keep your clean porcelain from cracking. He knew his strength and knew even better how it was best controlled.

His skin was marred and scarred, years of pain littering a man you know to be so gentle and equally devilish.

He turned back through the open door to see you, baring more of his body to your hungry gaze. Soft but still long, growing as you engulfed his view.

“What are you doing, little one?” He asked as if he didn’t have a very good idea as to what you were playing at.

You pushed your round, soft, and still covered ass back and arched your spine, making your supple breasts more prominent through the nightdress. “Tempting you.”

“Tempting me?” He chuckled, a blissful smile pulling along his darkened pink lips shadowed by the stubble of his beard. “You needn’t do anything more than exist to be a temptation.”

“Is that so?” You giggled, letting the bottom of the lace gown fall back against the bed, blanketing your legs once more.

“You weren’t serving yourself like this to me when I was first inveigled by your charm. You had even tried to hide that beautiful skin from me our first night.”

“I still am, in most ways, quite tame. Aren’t I?” You spoke with the smile pull of a pout at your lips.

“You seek to be tame, and yet you tempt. What a curious creature you are.” He folded his previous sentiments, like a note creased and tucked away for a later rebuttal, choosing instead to counter with his previous musings. He already missed the sight of your bare thighs, smoothed by the drag of a pun ice stone over your now silky skin and doused with sweetly scented oils.

“Is this your way of begging?” He asked, smiling with something akin to both joy at your flowering devotion with the drip of thick honeyed desire at the mynx he’d made you to be.

“Pleading, more like.” You said back, lip wobbling with a needy lilt to your voice.

It sent small jolts of something hot, burning even, along the ridges of his back. It made his skin vibrate as it rushed with blood, filling and stiffening his already long member. It was like the buzzing feeling in the air after a crack of light preceded by the roar of booming thunder on a dry night. You made something tempered, like melting stone, glow within him more and more with each dalliance.

“And how is it that I deny your pleas?” His voice rumbled with a soft purr of any predatory animal.

“You must have far more self-control than I, my love.” Your voice was like the tired mewl of a spoiled cat, something soft and easily overindulged.

“I don’t agree.” He mused back, anchoring his knee to the top of the plush bedding before leaning in towards your wicked smile. He nipped up at your roseate lips, playfully prying them apart to wet his little bites with the tip of his warm tongue.

You giggled, turning your head only a fraction at the tickle of his pink muscle. He’d chase you back even at a fraction of an inch to devour your sweet cherubic laughter. You were such a sweet, innocent rabbit, not seductive but still incredibly desirable, and he wanted only to ravish all of it.

Once he can lock the two of you together, lips pressed tightly and tangled with the dip of his head, he steals from you a kiss, slow and delicious.

Like lapping up fine honey from your tongue, he tasted every inch of you that you’d lend to him.

He was intoxicating, stealing the very breath from your lungs to lighten your mind and making your sway and limpen to his hold, still keeping you aloft. Your nimble little fingers danced drunkenly along his neck, tangling upward into his thick dark hair until they were tied into very roots. As your pearly teeth clashed with his, the knocking crystal with the tapping of nerve endings, you curled your fingers against his scalp.

Your nails dug inwards, and he felt the small sting at the back of his head as the hair was pulled into your building fist.

He was only amused, wincing slightly as he continued to take your quivering tongue between his teeth to suckle at the pink muscle before lapping at it with his own.

You were heavy, hanging ivy in his arms, begging for light to peel your limp leaves. Begging for air before you could feel faint and fall from his fingers. He pulled his lips with a long drag, nearly pulling you back with him. Your hands fall from his thick locks to catch the crook of his elbows so as not to fall against the sides of your night dress.

“Bucky. Please.” The pet name rolled along your little tongue so sweetly, tipping back and falling into the soft bedding. He followed, blanketing your body with his, cradling you against the hard plains of his stomach as it pressed to your soft belly.

His large hands met the little bit of your leg that peeked from beneath your night clothes, dragging his fingers further along your skin and slipping underneath the fabric. The dress was bundled, balled into his fist

before being pulled upwards to slip away from your arms and past your head.

You laughed, both nervously and amused, as he brought out more of your bare body to lighten the room.

A little hook of his fingernail catching the seam along your small cotton undergarments. Your nimble digits caught his own to stop his insistent tug at the only barrier left to your chastity. He had coaxed them off of you before, stripping you bare so as to taste you. He can still remember the last time you allowed him to lap at you, lick up your sweet nectar, and even tease your entrance with the tip of his thick tongue.

He had lavished at your soft petals and even teased at your little hidden seed. Pearly, round, and sensitive when provoked into swelling just a small amount. True to his word, he never breached your supple opening, nearly dipping but never breaking through.

His previous kiss has left you lightheaded, but this was something sobering enough to brush his fingers away. “No, Bucky.”

It was your only request. No matter how far you let him wander, you’d always stop him short of taking you fully. You were still a good princess, and even though your betrothed would pull you closer and closer to the edge, you knew the final leap would have to wait until the night you are both finally wed. You strived to stay pure both for and against James.

Your hands had flown towards him in a frenzy and flutter of worried fingers, stopping him from tearing the cloth away while the throbbing pink tip of his member bobbed so close.

But, James was a man of his word. He respected your vow while bending its boundaries all the same.

“I won’t, darling. I promise.” He chuckled, always amused by your acts of modesty.

“What I have in mind will feel wonderful, my doll. Trust me.” His rosy lips bloomed with a gentle smile, not devilish intentions to push you any further than he knew you’d be willing to go in the end.

He will please you, leaving you damp and needy after meeting a shattering end. You lay back, skin flushed with warmth as you let him pull your dainty white undergarments away, sopping and soaked with the thick drip of slick that pooled from the opening of your succulent flower. This time he was determined to play too, pressing his bare member so that the tip rested on the wet channel, spreading the dew along your dampened petals.

“You promised,” you pleaded again, blubbering to not have your flower plucked just yet. It would be the last boundary you could keep after he tempted you into breaking all others.

Your whine was needy, deliciously pathetic, and he had to stifle his next bout of soft laughter. “And I intend to keep my promises. Patience, my love.”

No, this time he slid himself along your folds, bumping the head of his furious member against a small hidden node at the top of your folds.

That little bundle of nerves nestled above your cunt, semi-hooded and yet swollen with your pent-up desire. That would be his object of torture; he’d glided his cock over your dampened pool of a pussy, coating himself in slippery slick as the head of his longer member slid over that little pearl until you burst and bubbled with the sharp squeaks of pleasure.

You simply melted, your voice humming that beautiful tune as your legs began to tremble with each stroke of his cock over your tender pearl. To send a tickle of pleasure over your core and along your belly with each push through. It made your flower shiver at its center, being teased with something it had to be denied. It begged all the same, as it was only ghosted with the press of his member, only to slide further and knock your perked bud. Working your flower to slowly bloom along his shaft.

“You sound so sweet. For my ears only.” His voice rumbled with a low pur, arms tightening around your bending body as his hips continued to drag himself along your soft folds. It was a true homage to his self control to not break his vow when presented with something so soft and beautiful. Even as he pressed himself so closely, with the singing of praise by the crack of your weakened voice ringing through the air of his room, he did not break his vow.

It is a fight well fought to keep his own composure, but you are completely overtaken by his movements, already overwhelmed by being so close to breaking that barrier.

Quickly, you came undone, gushing sweet sticky sap all over his cock, dripping into the thatch of a thorny brush at the base of his twitching shaft.

He could laugh, finding pure joy at how little you could take before you were screaming to your sputtering end at his own hands.

He dribbled with his own nectar as he fought not to burst and pepper your soft tummy with a spattering of thick white seed. He would not lower himself to paint you with ropes of his warm semen like a common tavern whore meant to lick it up from your own skin as a cat would lap at spilled cream.

He loved you far too much to let you sink further into such depravity, so he let his moment to finish pass, watching you catch your breath instead.

He held the base of himself with a strong, tightly coiled fist to stop the blood from swelling and bursting. The better to will his own ending away so as not to scare you with an unnecessary mess. Only then did his heartbeat become steady, and he was able to breathe in relief before lying beside you.

Taking in the soft rise of your glistening, sweat-stained belly and the blissful pull of your sweet pink lips as they curled into a devious and yet tired smile.

‘What a wonderful wife you’ll make.’ It was a sentiment that would echo through his mind like a prayer each and every night he spent with you tangled in his arms.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 18

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

Ransom exhaled through his nose, watching Bucky from the corner of his eye. He didn’t miss the way Barnes was looking at you—sharp, assessing, possessive. A slow smirk crept onto Ransom’s lips. That look meant one thing.

Bucky wanted something. And Ransom had never been one to let an opportunity slip through his fingers.

Without taking his gaze off Bucky, Ransom reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers before handing you a lighter.

“Light it for me,” he said casually.

You hesitated for a second before taking the lighter. With a flick, the flame ignited, casting an orange glow against your fingers. Ransom leaned in, bringing the tip of his cigarette to the flame. The brief moment made him feel closer to you. He inhaled slowly, the embers glowing brighter, before exhaling a stream of smoke.

He had done this on purpose.

And just as he expected—Bucky turned and walked away.

Ransom chuckled under his breath. “He’s mad about you.”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, taking another drag. “He kept bringing you up when discussing the recent audit.”

Your stomach twisted. “How much do you two actually discuss?”

“Everything. The hotel, the road, and the most recent? The hospital.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette. “It’s already halfway built—should be open next year.”

Your pulse quickened. “Who’s going to run it?”

“The local guy. Dr. Tony Stark.”

Your fingers curled into a fist at your side.

Tony Stark.

The man responsible for nearly killing your father.

Your mind spun. A hospital under his control meant one thing—patients wouldn’t be treated. They’d be test subjects. A place meant for healing would become a graveyard.

Ransom studied you, his smirk fading. “Your face just now… like you smelled something rotten.” His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. “What is it?”

You kept your voice steady. “Every town needs a hospital. But if Stark’s in charge, this one will be a slaughterhouse.”

Ransom exhaled smoke, but this time, his easygoing act was gone. When it came to business, he didn’t take risks. If something could jeopardize his investments, he’d dig until he found the truth. He wouldn’t let himself sink with the ship.

His voice dropped lower. “What exactly has this doctor done?”

“He nearly killed my dad. Misdiagnosed him, pumped him full of unnecessary meds.” You met his gaze, unflinching. “What would you do if a doctor did that to your family?”

Ransom’s jaw tensed. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. “How’s your dad now?”

“The moment he stopped taking Stark’s prescriptions, he started getting better. Alan’s overseeing his treatment now.”

At the mention of his family doctor, Ransom gave a knowing nod. Then, his lips quirked up—but there was no amusement in it.

“Why stop there?” he asked. “The Y/N I know wouldn’t half-ass this.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ransom—”

“I’ll call the Health Ministry. Get Stark’s medical license revoked. What he did to your dad is enough to put him behind bars.”

Your breath hitched slightly.

You didn’t say thank you often.

But this time, you meant it.

“…Thank you.”

Ransom flicked the ash off his cigarette and gave you a small smirk. “Don’t mention it.”

Here’s the revised version with smoother grammar, more body language, and an intensified thriller/mystery tone:

Ransom exhaled smoke slowly, watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, he gave a small shrug.

“If I were in your position, you’d do the same for me.”

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the conversation.

“Should we continue the tour?”

Bucky.

His sudden presence sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t even heard him approach.

Ransom smirked. “Perfect timing. Sadly, there’s a prick that could stop our negotiations.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly. “What could possibly interrupt the deal?”

Ransom flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his shoe. “I don’t want a killer doctor running the hospital.”

Bucky’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah,” Ransom said smoothly. “I always dig into the details before investing in anything. And this one? This one’s crucial. It’s people’s lives on the line.”

A beat of silence.

Then Bucky’s face smoothed over, back to his usual unreadable mask. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll find another replacement.”

Ransom chuckled. “Quick decision. I like it.”

“In fact,” Bucky added, glancing between the two of you. “I have the perfect person for the job.”

Then his gaze settled on you.

You froze.

“No,” you said flatly.

“I agree,” Ransom interjected. “She’s not suitable for this. The director needs a medical background.” He shot you a side glance. “Besides, I don’t want her staying here. I want her back working for me.”

Your stomach twisted.

The way he said it—like you were something to be reclaimed, something that belonged to him.

Bucky tilted his head slightly. “That’s too bad,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “I’m sure she’d do a great job.”

“What do you think, Y/N?” Ransom asked.

You forced a polite smile. “That’s a generous offer. But I’ll decline. I prefer to go back to the city. My dad’s there for his treatment.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

If Ransom hadn’t come, you wouldn’t have bothered coming back at all. And now, all you wanted was to get him out of this town before it pulled him into its web.

A tense silence settled between the three of you.

Then Ransom clapped his hands together. “Oh yeah, I’m curious about the casino.”

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he forced a smile. “I’ll show you.”

Ransom turned to you. “You should talk to the others. They’d love to hear your insight.”

You gave a small nod. “Sure.”

Without another word, you walked away.

Bucky watched as you disappeared into a crowd of former colleagues. It didn’t take long before you were surrounded, everyone hanging onto your every word, nodding, listening—admiring.

It was almost laughable.

Because right now, you were the one with status, with influence.

And he—James Barnes, once the golden boy of this town—stood on the outskirts, watching. Like an outcast. No friends, the only thing that hasn't changed is that he still has the money.

Just like he had been in high school.

Life was unpredictable.

“You two sure are close,” Bucky said casually.

Ransom smirked. “She’s my office wife.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed.

Ransom noticed. And he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Whenever I’m not in the office, she handles everything. I trust her completely.” Ransom’s smirk widened. “You like her, don’t you?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. “I can’t forget her.”

“Good luck with that,” Ransom said, amusement laced in his voice. “After all the shit she went through growing up here.”

Bucky said nothing.

Because he knew.

He knew why you never gave him a chance.

And that’s exactly what he was trying to change.

Ransom flicked his cigarette away. “I’ll put my investment in the hospital on hold. But for the toll road? We should move forward.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Sure.”

But his mind was somewhere else.

On you.

You stood in the lobby, arms crossed, your foot tapping against the marble floor. The air smelled of polished wood and fresh coffee, but your patience was wearing thin. Ransom was taking longer than expected.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted someone familiar.

"Hey, you're back!" Jake’s voice carried over the low murmur of the lobby.

He looked surprised to see you, his usual easygoing grin tugging at his lips. But you didn’t return the smile. Instead, you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward a quieter corner, away from prying eyes.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Jake asked, raising a brow.

You scanned the area, making sure no one was listening, then leaned in. “I need a favor.”

Jake smirked. “You, asking me for a favor? This must be serious.”

“It is,” you said sharply. “I need you to ask your mom about everything. Thor. Natasha. The mayor. Tony.”

Jake’s smirk faltered. His mother was the town’s most reliable source of gossip—if something was happening, she knew about it.

He exhaled. “You really think something’s off?”

“I know something is.”

Before he could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention.

Ransom and Bucky stepped into the lobby together.

“He’s inviting us to see the hospital,” Ransom announced, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Hoping it’ll change my mind. Why not?”

Bucky’s expression remained unreadable.

You swallowed back the unease creeping up your spine.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The hospital was already halfway finished. The structure loomed above the town like a monument to progress—or something else entirely.

The group stepped into the elevator, the cold metallic walls reflecting your tense expressions.

Bucky pressed the button for the seventh floor.

“The hospital will have fourteen floors,” he explained as the lift ascended. “Top-tier equipment, specialists from the city, private VIP suites…”

His voice was steady, confident. But there was something calculated about the way he spoke—like he was carefully choosing his words.

When the doors slid open, the group stepped out onto the seventh floor. The air smelled of fresh cement and sawdust, the hallways still unfinished.

Bucky continued his explanation, gesturing toward different areas. “This wing will have the latest diagnostic technology. We’ve brought in the best doctors to oversee patient care. State-of-the-art surgical rooms—”

A sharp voice cut through the air.

“So that’s it?”

Everyone turned.

Tony.

His face was twisted in barely contained rage, his hands clenched into fists.

"You promised I’d be the hospital director! That’s the only reason I came back!"

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. There was a wildness in his eyes, a man pushed to the edge.

Your stomach twisted. You knew he’d be angry when he found out he wouldn’t be hospital director—but this? This was something else.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Bucky said evenly. “But we need someone more qualified.”

Tony let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Bullshit. This was mine—I deserve this.”

Then you saw it.

The gleam of metal in his hand.

A knife.

Before you could react, he lunged.

You barely had time to move—your breath hitched—then—

A blur of movement.

Ransom.

He stepped in front of you, shoving you back—

The knife slashed—

A cry of pain—

Then the world tilted.

Ransom fell.

You watched, helpless, as he plummeted down the open space between floors—

“Ransom!” you screamed.

The seventh floor erupted into chaos.

Someone shouted for help.

Your heart pounded as you bolted toward the edge, peering down.

Sixth floor.

He’d landed on the concrete below, unmoving.

You ran.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you practically threw yourself down the stairwell, your vision blurring with panic.

When you reached him, your breath caught in your throat.

Blood.

A pool of it forming beneath his head.

“Oh no…”

Your hands trembled as you crouched beside him.

His eyes were half-lidded, his breath shallow.

“You piece of shit,” you choked out, pressing down on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “I won’t forgive you if you die.”

Somewhere above, Bucky was shouting orders.

But all you could hear was the frantic pounding of your own heart.

🏥🏥🏥🏥

Ransom stirred, his eyelids heavy, the world around him a blur of sterile white. A dull, aching pain throbbed through his body, but the worst of it radiated from his back. His throat felt dry, his head thick with the haze of medication.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting beside him, your hands clenched together in your lap. Dark circles framed your eyes, a clear sign that you hadn’t slept much. The moment his gaze met yours, your shoulders sagged with relief.

“You’re awake,” you whispered, exhaling sharply, as if you had been holding your breath for hours.

Ransom tried to smirk, but even that took effort. “Yeah. You look like hell.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, reaching for his hand but stopping just short of touching him. Instead, your fingers hovered over his, hesitant. “You almost died, you asshole.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t.” His voice was hoarse.

Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and a doctor stepped inside, flipping through a clipboard.

“Mr. Drysdale,” the doctor began, his tone professional but firm. “Your fall caused severe damage. Your kidney took the worst of it.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed. “But I don’t—”

His body ached, sure, but nothing felt that severe. He had only fallen one floor. He had been through worse—like the time he crashed into a rocky slope while skiing and tumbled off a small cliff. That had left him bruised and battered, but it had never damaged his kidney.

Something didn’t add up.

You cut in, your voice quieter but knowing. “I see.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more—the injury or the fact that you already seemed to know something he didn’t.

The doctor sighed. “It’s a miracle you’re still alive. We’ll need to operate on your knees as well, but first, we need to focus on stabilizing you. You need to get stronger before we move forward with surgery.” The doctor hesitated before adding, “Mr. Barnes will cover all medical expenses.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed. “Barnes?”

He shifted slightly, wincing as pain flared up his spine. Sure, his knees hurt, but his back was far worse.

Still, he forced himself to remain composed. He wasn’t about to show weakness.

“Tell Barnes I really appreciate it,” he said finally, his voice even but edged with something unreadable.

The doctor nodded, then exited, leaving the two of you alone.

Silence stretched between you.

Ransom swallowed, his throat dry. “Y/N… I—”

“Don’t say anything, Ransom.” Your voice was soft but firm. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

He watched you carefully, something flickering behind his tired blue eyes.

You meant it.

And that terrified him more than anything.

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[slut4thebroken]

Obsessed

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Summary | Bucky has a crush on his teammate.

Warnings | Smut, non con, voyeurism, no sex, masturbation, misogyny, stalking, public masturbation kinda, come marking, invasion of privacy, creepy!bucky, dark fantasies.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | This is lowkey a prequel to another fic that I have in the drafts but shh…

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 24: stalking + voyeurism

Ever since joining the Avengers, Bucky’s been completely obsessed with you. It wasn’t so bad before he was an official member and he would only really see you on missions. But once he moved into the compound… the intensity of his obsession skyrocketed. Every little thing you did constantly made him hard, from your smile to the way you’d close your eyes and moan after taking a bite of a particularly delicious meal. 

Sometimes he’d use his enhanced hearing and listen to you working out from the room next to the gym, fucking his fist while imagining you were panting because he was pounding your fucked out hole instead. Or when you’d be sparring with Natasha and get hit just a little too hard, he’d memorize the sound of your little whimpers and groans of pain. 

If he was feeling extra ballsy, he’d stand in the dark hallway and watch you. Honestly the fact that you preferred working out in the middle of the night was a blessing. He’d hide in the shadows and watch the way your tits moved in your sports bra. Or the way your tiny little shorts would be constantly riding up your ass. 

He’d hold out as long as he could before reaching a hand in his pants and fisting his cock. The light glimmer of sweat on your skin, the way your cheeks flushed a pretty red, the way your lips parted as you breathed heavily… All of it made him ache for you even more— for your much smaller body to be pinned beneath his huge frame as he pounded into you and made you whimper and moan for him. 

He finished in his pants with a low groan and hid away in his room since your room was barely ten feet from his. Once he heard your door shut, he waited impatiently for the bathroom door to close and the shower to start. After he heard you step in the shower, he slipped into your room. 

Your work out clothes were tossed on top of the rest of the clothes in the hamper. He walked over and picked up your underwear— of course you’d wear a thong, he thought with a smirk. Shoving the item in his pants, he cleaned up his seed as much as he could before tossing the garment back in the pile. 

Walking over to the dresser, he listened carefully, confirming you were still in the shower, then opened the top drawer. A lot of sports bras and cotton panties, but digging a little deeper, he found the lace. Mostly red and black, some light pink and white. God- what he wouldn’t do to see you in this… He closed it and walked over to your bed, finding your pajamas and underwear laid out. He hit the fucking jackpot tonight. 

Picking them up, he freed his cock from his pants and rubbed your panties against the tip. He made sure to rub the inside against it, smearing a subtle amount of precum. The thought of his dick and precum indirectly touching your cunt made him consider using the panties to jerk off… but that would be way too obvious when he eventually came on them. 

He reluctantly put them back how he found them and moved to your nightstand drawer, finding not one… but two vibrators. Just sitting there. You didn’t even try to hide them. He slowly stroked his cock, not wanting to get carried away and lose track of time. Your phone screen lighting up tore his attention away from the toys in the drawer. He didn’t even notice it at first, but this was fucking perfect. 

Ever since he accidentally came across some open tabs on your phone, he’s been dying to find out more. He opened it, already knowing the password, and scrolled through the tabs before clicking on one. 

His hard length slid through my slick folds, making me clench around nothing and whine. He chuckled, but lined himself up with my entrance regardless. Finally, he pushed inside my aching hole, both of us letting out low moans. 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky mumbled, going to a new tab. 

I squirmed, still half asleep, at the fire growing in my belly. Warm and wet suddenly engulfed my clit, making me cry out. I’ve never had a dream this realistic before. A low groan against my heat made my eyes flutter open. The sight of a mop of brown hair between my legs made me jerk away, but he grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to his mouth. 

He stared at the screen with wide eyes and moved to another tab, still pumping his cock slowly. 

“N-no. Please stop.” I sobbed, trying to push his hips away. Cold metal met my neck and I choked on a gasp. 

“You’re gonna take my fucking cock. Or I can kill you and then fuck you. Your choice.” He hissed, dragging the knife across my neck, almost as if to show me how he’d kill me. When I didn’t respond, he forced his cock inside, making me let out a hoarse scream. He wasted no time with his frantic thrusts in my pussy, both of us listening to the way my arousal created a squelching sound each time he moved. 

“Listen to how wet your pathetic little cunt is for your rapist.” He grabbed my hair so tight that my eyes watered and pushed my head down to watch. “Look at how you’re drenching my cock.” He growled, brutally pounding my already sore hole. 

The sound of the shower curtain sliding open snapped him out of his trance. He locked your phone and placed it back down then swiftly exited the room. He didn’t even bother tucking his cock back in his pants. The second his door was closed, he leaned against it and quickly fisted his throbbing length. 

He thought about threatening you like that— The way your sweet little pussy would drool at his words. He’d tease you about how he can smell you already. You’d whine and squirm and flush in embarrassment, and that would only drive him to do it more. 

He’d cut all your clothes off but remain fully clothed himself. He’d make fun of how fast your heart was beating and how sweet your cunt smells. He’d jerk off right in front of your face before covering it in his seed and forcing you to keep it there. 

He wanted to pull you into his room next time before you could make it to the gym, yank your slutty little shorts and panties down, and jerk off until he came in them, then make you work out with a mess between your legs. He wanted to spar with you and not hold back at all— punching and kicking you, making you whimper and groan in pain. Knowing your ego though, you wouldn’t stop. He wanted to make you bruise— make you bleed… Permanently mark your pretty skin with his name. 

He shuddered as he came, his seed coating his hand and the floor while he imagined you were kneeling in front of him with your mouth open, eager to swallow it down. 

The more he tried to resist these fantasies, the harder it became. It didn’t help that you clearly were craving it too— what with all of the porn you read, you were obviously desperate for a good dicking. 

He thought about maybe asking you first… but if you really wanted consent, you wouldn’t read such filthy stories about being forcefully taken. 

Who was he to deny you what you needed? 

[kijrbds]

just saw this on twitter and … a bullet would’ve hurt less ..

[makehydrafictionagain]

Oh. my god

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part One

Steve x Reader, Bucky x reader

AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Angst, fluff

A/N: I know the major majority voted for This Love to be the next one I post buuuuuuut my gut was telling me to post this one. I will be posting on Ao3 soon to just because a few people messaged me about it!

As always i will still be updating my other stories i just have its easier for me to be creative when i have multiple things going. Next part of Say dont go soon!

Masterpost

---

The smell of tomato sauce fills the kitchen as you stir the pot, trying to focus on the task at hand. The garlic bread is almost ready, the pasta is done, and Steve will be home any minute. It’s a typical night, like any other night, but there’s something tugging at the edges of your thoughts, something that’s been there for days, weeks even. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it’s theres like this persistent knot in your chest that refuses to unravel. It's heavier than the typical weight you’re used to.

Lily’s laughter echoes from the living room, her voice a sweet hum in the background as you stir the sauce one last time. She’s watching some cartoon, probably the one with talking animals who save the world that you’ve memorized every word to by now. You glance at the clock. Steve should be pulling into the driveway soon. Everything is falling into place, just like it always does. Just like it should, just like you hoped for, just like you wanted.

It’s the kind of life you imagined for yourself, stable, predictable, good. And yet, lately, you feel like something’s missing. You don’t feel whole, but yet you haven't felt whole in years.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, and you wipe your hands on a dish towel before picking it up. It’s a text from your mom. You smile, unlocking the screen to see what she’s sent.

Mom: Look what I found! :)

There’s an attachment, an old photo, grainy and slightly faded. You tap it, and the image fills the screen.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a picture of you and Bucky.

You were maybe eight years old, standing on the playground, grinning like it was the happiest day of your life. Your arm is slung around Bucky’s shoulders, and his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His smile is lopsided, the same one you always knew, that mischievous gleam in his bright blue eyes. You had forgotten how blue they were. His hair’s a mess, sticking up in different directions, but it suits him. It always did.

The sight of it hits you like a wave, washing over you in a rush of memories you didn’t realize you’d been holding back. The sounds of the kitchen fade, the smell of the sauce disappears, and you’re not standing there anymore. You’re back there,, back in a time before everything got complicated.

You’re back in third grade, on that day when it all began.

It’s fall, and you’re seven years old, almost eight. Standing on the cracked blacktop of the elementary school playground. The air has that crispness that makes your skin tingle, and the sun is warm on your face, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy staring at the ground, clutching your lunchbox in both hands, wishing you could disappear.

They’ve been circling you for a while now, the group of kids from the fifth grade, the ones who always find something to pick on. Today, it’s you. Today, you're sure it’s your clothes, you were wearing one of your Dads old shirts it was huge and it had holes but it still smelled like him. Or maybe it’s your shoes, the ones that squeak when you walk, or the way your hair frizzes up when the wind blows just right.

You don’t know why they’ve picked you today. You never know. You just know that your throat is tight, and your hands are shaking, and you’re trying not to cry.

“Hey, Y/N,” one of the boys sneers, his voice sharp and cruel. “What’s wrong? Gonna cry again? You gonna run home to Mommy? Since you don't have a Daddy!”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears back. You’ve cried in front of them before, and it only made things worse. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry today, you were going to be strong, because you were strong, your Mom said so. But the lump in your throat is growing, and no matter how hard you try to swallow it down, it won’t go away, it never does.

They laugh, jostling each other, getting closer, their voices growing louder. You want to run, but your legs won’t move. Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground.

“Leave her alone.”

The voice cuts through the taunting like a knife, sharp and clear. You blink, looking up, startled. The group of boys falls silent, and you see a boy standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his face set in a determined frown.

It’s Bucky, he just moved here. You don’t know him at all.

He steps forward, planting himself between you and the group of kids, his chin held high, his blue eyes blazing with a kind of courage you’ve never seen before. He’s smaller than most of the boys, but he doesn’t seem to care. He stands there like a wall, like he’s daring them to do something.

“What do you want, Bucky?” one of the boys mutters, but there’s a shift in the air now. They’re not laughing anymore. They’re not pushing you around.

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “I said, leave her alone.”

For a moment, the boys hesitate, glancing at each other. You can see the uncertainty flickering in their eyes, the way they’re sizing him up, trying to decide if he’s worth the trouble. And then, one by one, they start to back off, muttering under their breaths as they turn and walk away.

You stand there, frozen, your heart still pounding in your chest, staring at the boy who just saved you from what felt like the worst moment of your life.

Bucky turns to you, his expression softening as the danger fades away. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentler now, like he’s talking to an old friend.

You nod, still too stunned to speak. You don’t know what to say. You’ve never had anyone stand up for you like that. You’ve seen him around school before, but you’ve never really talked to him. And now, here he is, looking at you like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“I’m Bucky, I’m new” he says, sticking his hand out like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You blink, glancing at his outstretched hand, and then back at his face. He’s smiling now, that crooked grin that makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay. You reach out and shake his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

“Y/N,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I know,” he says with a wink. “Wanna be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure if he’s serious. No one’s ever asked you to be their friend like that, so straightforward, so sure. But then you smile, and you realize that you want nothing more than to say yes.

“Okay,” you say, your voice a little stronger this time. “Yeah. Let’s be friends.”

And just like that, everything changes.

You’re still standing there, staring at your phone, caught in a moment that isn’t here anymore.

You can still hear the laugh that must have come right before the picture was taken. You can still remember the way the sun hit his brown hair just right, making it look lighter than it was. You can still feel the warmth of his arm around you, the way he always pulled you just a little closer, like you were his to protect.

Your fingers hover over the screen, tracing the shape of his smile. You were both so little.

You don’t even hear Steve come in.

The front door opens, closing softly behind him. A rustling of keys, a quiet greeting as he passes the living room. “Hey, kiddo.” You vaguely register Lily’s excited response “Daddy!” then something about cartoons and garlic bread, but you don’t move.

You don’t even notice when his footsteps come closer, steady and familiar, until suddenly, there’s a warm kiss pressed against your cheek, and his voice is right there so soft, loving. “Babe.”

You jolt slightly, blinking, the world around you snapping back into focus. “Huh?”

Steve smiles gently as he pulls back, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his blue eyes. You follow his gaze as he glances down at your phone, which you’re still gripping too tightly in your hands.

Before you can react, he reaches around you, his fingers brushing against yours as he zooms in on the photo. His voice is light, teasing. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen many childhood photos of you?” He tilts his head, grinning. “You’re adorable.”

A small laugh escapes you, though it feels fragile. He never saw any past your eighth birthday because they were all filled with him. You try to relax, try to be present, but the weight in your chest won’t let you.

Then Steve’s expression shifts slightly, the amusement fading just a little as his gaze moves to the boy beside you in the photo. “Who’s that with you?”

Your fingers tighten around the phone before you can stop yourself, your voice small. “Bucky.” The name lingers in the air, heavier than it should be.

And just like that, Steve stills.

He’s heard the name before. Of course he has. He knows the trauma you carry, the grief that shaped you in ways you never talk about. He knows about the years of silence, about the loss that still lingers in the spaces you refuse to acknowledge. Mostly from your Mom filling him in. He knows loss, that's why the two of you work so well, you both lose people around the same time but Steve’s worked through is, you though, you’ve just bottled it up.

But he’s never actually seen him.

Never seen the boy who once held your whole world in his hands.

Steve doesn’t say anything right away. His hand rests lightly on the counter beside you, his other arm brushing against yours as he continues to look at the photo. His silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy, thoughtful.

“He looks…” He exhales softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I’ve never put a face to the name before.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “Yeah.”

Steve shifts, turning slightly so he can see your face. His voice is quieter now, careful. “You never really talk about him.”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. Instead, you keep staring at the photo, at the two kids who had no idea what was coming. “I know.”

Steve watches you for a moment, his fingers brushing against yours again. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for more than you’re ready to give. Instead, he does what he always does, he gives you space to breathe. “You okay?”

The kindness in his voice nearly undoes you.

You force yourself to nod, to look away from the past and into the present, the man in front of you, the life you built, the warmth that should be enough. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’m fine.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. But he doesn’t call you on it, he never does.

Instead, he leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your head, his lips soft against your temple. “Okay,” he whispers. “If you ever want to talk about him… I’m here.”

You close your eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. You don’t deserve him. But right now, you just nod. “I know.”

And just like that, Steve lets it go.

He squeezes your hand before stepping back, moving to take off his jacket. He calls out to Lily, something about setting the table, and just like that the moment passes.

But your phone is still in your hand. And Bucky’s face is still staring back at you.

The sound of the oven timer snaps you back to the present, jerking you out of the memory like a splash of cold water. You blink, shaking your head as the kitchen comes back into focus. The sauce is bubbling, the bread is ready, and Lily is calling your name from the other room.

But your mind is still stuck in that moment, stuck on Bucky’s face, on the way he looked at you, on the way everything felt so simple back then. You glance down at your phone again, the old photo still displayed on the screen, and something inside you twists.

You haven’t thought about Bucky like this in a long time. You haven’t let yourself. There’s too much there, too much to unpack, and you’ve built your life carefully around avoiding those memories. But now, here he is, staring back at you from the past, and you can’t help but wonder how things got so complicated.

“Mommy!” Lily calls from the dining room, her voice full of impatience. “Is dinner ready yet?”

You force a smile, tucking the phone back into your pocket. “Almost, sweetie! Did you set the table?”

She runs off, and you turn back to the stove, stirring the sauce one last time. The garlic bread smells perfect, the pasta is ready, and everything is exactly as it should be.

The three of you gather at the table, the kind of scene you’ve played out a thousand times before. Lily’s already in her seat, bouncing in excitement, her eyes bright green shining as you bring the food to the table.

“Daddy! We’re having pasta!” she exclaims, as if Steve hadn’t already figured that out.

“Looks like it, kiddo,” Steve says, smiling at her. “How was school today?”

Lily launches into a detailed explanation of her day, who she sat with at lunch, what book her teacher read to the class, how she got to be line leader, and what game she played at recess. Steve listens with that attentive smile, nodding and asking just the right questions. He’s good at this, being present, being the father Lily adores.

You’re sitting there, your fork twirling spaghetti absently, but you’re not really listening. You’re watching them, but your mind is miles away. You can still feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, the picture of Bucky tucked away, waiting for you. His grin, his bright blue eyes… It’s all coming back, flooding your thoughts with memories you’d locked away for years.

You don’t realize how quiet you’ve gone until Steve’s voice cuts through the fog. “Y/N?”

You blink, snapping out of your daze, meeting his concerned gaze from across the table. “Hmm?”

He smiles gently, but there’s a crease of worry in his brow. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

You nod quickly, forcing a smile that you hope is convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

But Steve doesn’t look convinced. He knows you well enough to see through the surface. He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face, but then Lily tugs at his arm, pulling his attention back to her.

Dinner wraps up soon after, and you help Lily brush her teeth and get into her pajamas, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed animal. Steve reads her a bedtime story, his voice soothing and steady, and you sit beside him, offering a few smiles as Lily drifts off to sleep.

Everything should feel perfect. This is your life, your family, the life you’ve built with Steve. But as you head down the hall toward your bedroom, that picture of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, pulling at you in ways you can’t shake.

In the bedroom, Steve pulls off his work shirt, changing into an old t-shirt as you start pulling back the covers. The familiar routine plays out just like every other night. But tonight feels different. There’s a distance you can’t seem to bridge.

Steve climbs into bed, settling against the pillows. He looks over at you, still watching, still noticing.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, softer this time.

You pause for a moment, trying to find the words. You don’t want to lie, but you also don’t want to open up a conversation that you’re not ready for. “I’m fine,” you say, hesitating only slightly. “It’s just… That picture threw me off.”

“C’mere” He says softly, pulling you against his chest. Steve doesn’t say anything for a while.

You’re still resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, a comforting rhythm that should soothe you.

But you can’t stop thinking about the picture.

The one still glowing from your phone screen on the bedside table.

The one Steve had looked at for longer than he probably realized.

The one where you and Bucky were standing under the summer sun, arms slung around each other, grinning like the world belonged to you.

But something about the moment lingers.

Maybe it’s because you know that Steve, for all his kindness, for all his patience, has never actually seen Bucky before.

He’s only ever known of him, the shadow of him, the weight of your grief, the way you never talk about him. And now, for the first time, he had a face to go with the name. It was his adolescent face and you thought what would he think if he saw his face the way you tried to forget. With his little stubble, that dimple on his chin, his ocean eyes, his smile, his everything. You could almost see it so clearly in your head but at the same time you couldn't. You didn't even remember what he sounded like.

You wonder what he thought when he saw it.

You wonder if he were to see other photos of you and him. The ones where the way Bucky would hold you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. If he would notice the way you were looking at each other, no just like best friends, but like something more.

Something that never had the chance to exist.

Steve shifts slightly, exhaling a quiet breath. Then, softly, he asks, “Do you want to tell me about that day?”

Your stomach clenches.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because you do.

You swallow, fingers curling into his shirt. “You really want to know?”

“I’d like to,” Steve says simply. “He was important to you. Is important to you. And I’d like to know more about him from you.”

It’s such a Steve thing to say. So genuine. So unthreatened.

And yet, past tense.

Was.

Steve didn’t mean anything by it. You know that. But the past doesn’t feel like the past. Not when it’s still sitting in the center of your chest, not when it’s still carved into the parts of you that never healed right.

But it’s not Steve’s fault. You know that. There wasn’t a malicious fibre in his body.

So you push the thought down. You swallow hard, ignore the lump in your throat, and nod.

Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head, then leans back against the pillows, waiting. Letting you take your time.

You close your eyes.

And you let yourself go back.

“Come on, come on, you have to!”

Bucky’s voice was breathless with excitement, his hands gripping yours as he dragged you through the crowd. The fairgrounds were packed, kids running with half-melted popsicles, parents struggling to keep up, the sound of laughter mixing with the distant hum of carnival games and the occasional crackling announcement over the loudspeakers.

“Bucky, slow down!” you had whined, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“No way, you’re gonna love this!”

You had barely caught your breath before Bucky stopped in front of the biggest bounce house you’d ever seen.

“Look at it,” Bucky breathed, his eyes wide with awe, like he was staring at something magical. “It’s huge.”

You had crossed your arms. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on.” Bucky turned to you, grinning that grin, the one he always used when he wanted to get away with something. “What’s the Fourth of July without a little fun?”

Before you could protest because you both knew you were about to, he was already kicking off his shoes, already climbing inside, and the next thing you knew, he was bouncing, laughing, calling your name, looking so happy it was impossible to say no.

So you kicked off your shoes, too. And the next ten minutes were pure chaos.

You had both gone flying across the inflatable floor, bouncing so high you nearly crashed into each other half a dozen times. Bucky had grabbed your hands at one point, spinning you in a circle, laughing as you shrieked, as if he could make time stop just by holding onto you..

You had been trying to get back to your feet, still giggling, when Bucky tripped, taking you down with him.

You landed in a tangled heap of limbs, and when you tried to get up, your face was way too close to his, your noses almost touching.

For the first time all afternoon, Bucky had stopped laughing.

For a second, you just… looked at each other.

“Bucky! Y/N! Time for pictures!”

Your mom’s voice snapped the moment in half, and you scrambled away from him, your face warm as you followed her voice. You were thankful for the bounce house because you were blushing like crazy you had almost had your first kiss with Bucky. All the girls in your class had already had their first kiss. But it felt too soon you were only eight so you were grateful for your Mom.

Bucky was still grinning like a fool when he caught up with you, his arm slinging around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Smile!” your mom had called.

And you had. You always smiled when Bucky was near.

Both of you, smiling, glowing, bright with childhood joy, frozen in a moment you’d never get back.

When you open your eyes, the room is quiet.

Steve hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved. His fingers trace slow, absentminded shapes against your back, like he’s trying to hold you here, in this moment, in this life you built with him.

But your mind is still somewhere else.

Still in that bounce house, in the warmth of a Fourth of July that feels like another lifetime.

“My mom took that picture right after we got out,” you whisper. “We were covered in dirt, sweating, our hair was a mess. But we were happy.”

Steve exhales softly. “He sounds like he made you really happy.”

Your throat tightens. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “He did. He was my best friend.”

The words barely make it out.

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He just holds you, letting the silence stretch, letting you breathe.

But even in the quiet, Bucky’s laughter still echoes in your ears.

He leans over and kisses your forehead softly, his hand brushing against your arm. “I love you, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I love you, too,” you say, and you mean it. Of course you love Steve but you also can’t help but mourn the love that never was, the one you lost.

Steve is asleep within minutes, his breathing slow and steady, but you lie there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, the only sound is the faint hum of the heater kicking on in the hallway.

Your hand drifts to the nightstand, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for your phone. The screen lights up in the darkness, casting a soft glow on your face. You scroll back to the picture your mom sent, opening it again, staring at the image of you and Bucky.

You trace the outline of his face with your thumb, the memories of that day flooding back, the way he smiled at you like he’d always be there.

You never thought much about what life would look like without Bucky in it. But then, life happened. Choices were made. Time passed.

And now, here you are, lying in bed with your husband asleep beside you, staring at a picture of a boy you once knew, wondering how everything got so complicated.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the memories swirl around you, but when you open them again, you’re still here. In this life. In this bed. With Steve.

You turn off the phone and place it back on the nightstand, the glow fading as the room is plunged back into darkness. But even as you close your eyes and try to fall asleep, that picture of Bucky lingers, imprinted on the inside of your mind, refusing to let go.

You wake up feeling… off. Not exactly sad. Not exactly anxious. Just off.

His face still lingers in the back of your mind, hovering like something unfinished, like a conversation you walked away from too soon. You try to shake it, try to focus on the morning routine, getting Lily ready for school, making breakfast while Steve drinks his coffee and reads the news on his phone. You go through the motions, plastering on a smile when necessary, laughing at Lily’s excitement over something one of her classmates said yesterday.

It’s normal. Everything is normal.

So why does it feel like everything inside you is unraveling?

“Beautiful?” Steve’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s watching you over the rim of his coffee mug, brow furrowed slightly. “You doing okay?”

You force a small smile, reaching for your own mug. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitate, then glance at Lily, who’s humming to herself as she doodles on a napkin. “I was thinking about heading down to visit my mom this weekend,” you say casually, stirring your coffee though you’ve already added enough sugar. “It’s been a while.”

Steve smiles, setting his cup down and reaching for your hand across the counter. His touch is warm, grounding. Safe. “That sounds nice,” he says, rubbing small circles over your knuckles with his thumb. “I know she’d love that. Do you want me and Lily to come with you?”

Guilt presses against your ribs. He’s always like this, so sweet, so thoughtful. You don’t deserve it. Not when you’re sitting here, pretending this trip is just about visiting your mom when, in reality, it’s something else entirely.

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I think I just need a little time.”

Steve studies you for a moment, searching your face like he’s trying to read between the lines. Then he nods, squeezing your hand before letting go. “Okay,” he says easily. “But promise me you’ll drive safe?”

You smile, relieved he’s not pressing because he knows why. “Always.”

He leans over, kissing your forehead softly. “Good.” Then he pulls back, grinning. “You know I’ll just be calling to check on you every few hours anyway.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.” You laugh, but it feels hollow. You know you love Steve but why does it feel like a stranger’s hands are gripping your shoulders, turning you around, pulling you backward into something you swore you left behind?

The drive to your mom’s house is long. Almost three hours, but it feels even longer with your thoughts weaving in and out of the past. You keep the radio on, some soft indie playlist filling the silence, but nothing can drown out the memories creeping in. Especially when your mind starts to think of all the new songs you’ve added to this playlist, the ones he never got to hear, the ones you know he’d love but you’ll never get to find out.

It’s late afternoon by the time you pull into your childhood home. The house looks smaller somehow, though nothing has changed. The same mailbox, the same front porch with the wind chime that always scared you when you were little remind you too much of the horror movie sounds Bucky would terrorize you with.

You step inside, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and old books. Your mom greets you with a tight hug, fussing over you before leading you to the kitchen, but there’s an unspoken understanding between you. She knows why you’re here, even if you haven’t said it out loud. She knew the moment she sent the picture.

“So,” she says, setting down a cup of tea in front of you. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

You wrap your hands around the mug, staring down at the steam curling into the air. “I just… I was thinking about some old things.” You hesitate, then force the words out. “About Bucky.”

Your mom nods, her expression unreadable. “His letters are still upstairs. I never touched them. Everything is exactly where you left it”

A lump forms in your throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

She reaches out, squeezing your hand “Well I oughta run to the store to get some stuff for dinner!” She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek and letting you go.

You barely register walking up the stairs to your room but here you are and the box is exactly where you left it.

It’s tucked away in the corner of your bedroom closet, buried beneath stacks of forgotten sweaters and high school yearbooks. Your hands tremble as you pull it out, settling onto the floor. Dust clings to the lid, and for a long moment, you just stare at it.

You shouldn’t open it.

You shouldn’t because the can of worms you'd open with it..

But your fingers are already moving, lifting the lid, revealing a neat stack of envelopes inside. Some are crinkled at the edges, others yellowing with age. Your name is written on every single one, in his handwriting.

You pick one up at random, your breath catching as you recognize the date, seven years ago.

Slowly, carefully, you unfold the letter.

Y/N,

I don’t know why I keep writing these. You never answer. I don’t even know if you’re reading them. But I guess it doesn’t matter. I still need to say these things, even if they never reach you.

It’s late here. The kind of late where everything feels too big, and I can’t sleep, I never can anymore anyway. The only thing keeping me sane is remembering home and thinking about you.

Remember that summer when we were sixteen? The one where we spent half of July sneaking into the lake after dark? You always said the water looked like liquid silver under the moonlight. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I remember the way you looked then. I mean, really looked. The way your eyes caught the light, the way your laugh echoed across the water. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound as good as that laugh. I remember feeling so overwhelmed in that moment, so scared of the things I was feeling that I decided to pretend something grabbed my foot.

I also remember the way you shivered when the wind picked up, but you wouldn’t admit you were cold. You were stubborn like that. Still are, probably. I wrapped my jacket around your shoulders, and you gave me that look, you know the one. The one where you’re about to say something sarcastic but then change your mind.

I wanted to kiss you that night. Did you know that?

Of course you didn’t. I never told you. I was always too scared to ruin what we had. But I think about that night a lot. About if things would have changed if I had just kissed you.

It’s been so long since I’ve heard your laugh. I don’t even know if I remember the sound anymore. I do remember it was my favourite sound in the world.

Yours, Always

Bucky

[ramp-it-up]

Now I am in that world. Love it!

I've always had this acting AU idea where you and Bucky are co-stars in a movie/tv show and your characters are enemies. It makes people feral because you're both so crazy attractive but you just hate each other so much on screen and your story lines have you at each others throats.

Now the part I love with this idea is the press actually thinking you don't get along with him whatsoever and thinking there's drama between the cast because you're never around with them. Whenever they hang out together, literally everyone by you is there. There are so many rumors about how Bucky can't stand working with you and how the cast leaves you out. Natasha even had a thanksgiving dinner recently and the Instagram photo she posted has literally everyone present but you.

Things heat up even more when you barely update your own socials after filming wrapped up. You basically disappeared and it confirms everyone's suspicions. The only time you post here and there is when you're at home alone, doing your own thing. You're never present in any of the interviews. No one ever comments even when they're directly asked about you. There has to be drama.

It's been over a year of near radio silence and people anticipating for the release of this movie.

I love the idea of the movie premier day being full of anticipation and people buzzing over if Bucky would bring a date, if you'd even show up, wondering how you'd interact with everyone else. No one's even seen you but you're one of the main characters so you have to show-

A large black SUV rolls up.

Then Bucky steps out.

Everyone screams. He looks stunning in his all black suit, with his scruffy beard and chestnut locks. Instead of making his way down the red carpet, he stays in place waiting for someone to join him.

Confused murmurs start among the screaming.

And then.

He holds his hand out to help you out.

And everyone goes absolutely wild as you step out, seeing your very round baby bump and that ring on your finger. He makes a show of kissing you deeply before walking you down and of course the cast showers you in love and hugs as if you're all in your own little bubble.

They already knew all long. The secret, low key relationship with you and Bucky. You didn't want people to know because it would bring on so much speculation and scrutiny. When everyone bombards you both with what's going on, Bucky only answers one reporters question with a simple "I'm here with my wife"

Seriously, people can't handle it.

A few days after the reveal, Bucky, you and the rest of the cast including Sam, Steve, Nat and so many others post all the outings they had where you were actually present. The "thanks giving dinner" was actually your baby shower. So many pictures where they're holding your bump with "aunt" and "uncle" sashes tied around them. Pictures from the secret wedding. The honeymoon. The cutest pictures of Bucky cuddled up with you; wholesome intimate moments with you and him. Moments with getting mani pedis with Nat and Wanda.

No on can understand how this was all hidden so well. No one would have guessed.

Weeks later you have your babies and this time everyone posts pictures, all of them surrounding you in the hospital.

Seriously, this reveal breaks the internet in a way you'd never imagine.

[redroomwarrier]

Squishy mad face ✨