#what would Bucky’s drag name be??

[bxsie]

I have drag race brain rot and I’m thinking about Bucky in drag. Scarlet Envy is literally Bucky.

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[lokigodofmyheart]

JEALOUS

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Summary: You and Bucky had been dating for almost 8 months now. You loved him and he loved you. But your sexual desires weren't completely satisfied. Bucky never went more than a soft and gentle sex, afraid to hurt you. 

Warning/Content: smut, edgind/orgasm denial/ bathroom sex.

MASTERLIST KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Y/N and Bucky had been dating for almost 8 months now. She loved him, but she was missing something in the sexual area. Bucky was amazing, of course, but because of his strength and his past, he was always afraid to hurt her so the sex was always too soft, too sweet. And she wanted more.  

After talking with Natasha while they got ready for the party, she decided to follow her friend’s advice: make him jealous. So that’s what she did. A little after the party had started, she went to the bar to get another drink, and a handsome man started talking with her. She knew he was flirting with her.  

At normal days, she would cut him off, say she had a boyfriend. But tonight, she wanted to make Bucky jealous, so she smiled and started talking with the guy. Bucky, from the table, took a sip of his drink watching his girlfriend laugh with the strange. 

His jaw had clenched, and his hands tightened around the glass. Steve could notice his friend was tense. He was trying his best to stay in his place. Watching Y/N having fun with another man, letting him touch her arm, giggling to something he said… Yeah Bucky was not happy about this at all. 

“Careful. You’ll break the glass.” Steve says to him with a small smile. Bucky barely heard it, his eyes fix on Y/N and the man. He decided he had enough, standing up and walking to them. 

The guy, named Chris, had asked her about her favorite color. Y/N opened her mouth do answer, but she was cut short when Bucky grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her close to him. His eyes were dark and intense as he spoke. “We need to talk, doll.” 

“Bucky, hey.” Y/N smiles innocently “I’m talking with this nice gentleman right now.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrow as he sees you smile, he clenches his jaw for a moment before he speaks again. His voice is low and firm “No, doll. You’re coming with me. Now.” He didn’t wait for a response. Bucky’s grip on her arm was firm as he practically dragged you away from the man. She could see the anger in his eyes and for a moment she wondered if she pushed him too much.  

“Bucky, what are you doing...?” She asks, but received no answer as he kept pulling her with him, until they finally reach the restroom. He almost shoved her inside the place, locking the door behind them.  

He turned to her, his eyes dark and intense as he spoke “What the hell were you doing?” Bucky demands, his voice low and dangerous. He’s still angry, his eyes dark with jealousy. 

“I was just having a conversation.” 

Bucky scoffs at her response, stepping closer to her, his body almost towering over her frame as he continues “Just talking? Is that what you call flirting now, doll? Smiling, giggling, letting him touch you?” Bucky pushed her against the wall, trapping her with his body “What was that, doll? You were trying to make me jealous?” 

“No...” 

He raises an eyebrow, not buying your lie, he can tell that she was trying to make him jealous, and it worked. He leans in closer, his voice dropping even lower “Doll, you’re a terrible liar. I know what you were doing. You were trying to get a rise out of me, weren’t you?” 

A small smirk appeared on her lips “Maybe...” 

The man smirks, his eyes darkening with desire and possessiveness “You really thought that flirting with another man in front of me would be a good idea doll? You really thought that I would just sit there and watch some guy touch you, knowing you’re mine?” His hands moving to her hips, his grip tight as he holds her in place “You’re mine, doll. Mine. And no one else gets to touch you the way I do. Understand?” 

Y/N’s smirks get wider. He notices it and raises an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and annoyance on his expression “Oh, you think this is funny, doll? You like playing games, don’t you? Let’s play one then.” 

His hands went under her dress, between her legs. He looked at her a little surprised when he felt the soaked fabric “You’re soaked already...?” 

A small moan came from her lips when he touched her, teasing her through the fabric of her now damped panties. 

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” Bucky spoke with his voice low “You've been teasing me all night, doll... You were asking for this. You wanted me to snap, didn't you?”  

His hands lifted her dress enough to expose her legs and her lacy panties. His lips found her neck, trailing up to her ear while he rubbed her clit through the fabric of the panties “You’re mine.” 

Another moan came from her lips. She wanted nothing more than his hands on her, really touching her. Bucky smirks at the sounds of your moans. He's enjoying the effect he has on you, the way your body responds to his touch "You like that, doll? You like me touching you like this?" 

“Yes...” 

“Good." He continues kissing her neck before he pulled back, looking at her, his eyes dark, filled with jealous and desire "You thought you could flirt with another man and make me jealous, doll. Well, you got what you wanted." His hands ripped her underwear off her body, making Y/N left a surprised gasp.  

He smirks at her surprised expression, his eyes dark and intense when he touched her folds again, making a moan coming out from her lips again. Bucky run his fingers on her before he stopped at her clit, rubbing it slowly. He watched her face, hearing her moans, teasing her, building the moment and when she was close, he pulled his hand away.  

Y/N whines in complaining, looking at him. He then changed his hand from his metal one, doing the same thing. The metal was cold against her wet pussy, and again, when she was close to her orgasm, he stopped and pull his hand away.  

She let out a frustrated noise “Bucky...” 

Bucky looks at her with a smug expression "Yes, doll?" 

“Please...” 

He raises an eyebrow at her plea. He was enjoying teasing her far too much, he didn't want to give in so easily after her little stunt. His hand went back to rub her ever so slightly "Please what?" Y/N moans again. “Use your words, doll." He whispered as he continued rubbing her, but not letting she reach that sweet release, his movements slow and steady. 

“Please...” She says in a moan.  

"Please, what? You're going to have to tell me what you want." He continues to rub her clit slowly, loving how desperate she was. 

She took a breath, trying to stead her voice “...let me cum.” 

He smirks at her demand, his fingers rubbing a little faster "You want to come, doll? You want to come that badly?" Her head nods, her eyes showing how desperate she wants after being denied two times now.  "Beg for it.” his lips by her ear as he whispers. 

“Please, Bucky...please.” She starts to feel her orgasm building again.  

Bucky smirks at her pleading, his fingers rubbing your even faster making her moan a little louder "Please, what, doll? You have to be specific." 

“Please, let me cum...please.” Her voice sound so desperate, he had never heard her like that. 

He leans in even closer, his hand stopping mid-circle and he whispers in her ear again "Say you're mine, doll" 

A frustrated sound escaped her again, when he stopped for the third time.  

“I’m yours. Please...” 

He smirks at her words, his hand starts moving again "That's right doll. You're mine. No one else can touch you.” 

Her head nods “I’m your.”  

His hand finally starts moving faster, giving what she wanted. This time, Bucky didn’t stop when she was close, he rubbed her clit faster, putting a little more pressure and in seconds he watched as she fell apart. Her legs trembled with the strength of her orgasm.  He brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks them "You taste so good, doll.” 

She was a little surprised when he took a step back, pulling her with him. He turned her around and bend her over the sink of the bathroom. He leans in close to her ear, his voice low "But we're not done yet, doll. I'm still not satisfied"  

His hand went between their bodies, holding his cock as he positioned at her entrance. He wasn’t gentle when he pushed inside of her with one hard thrust of his hips, making her moan. He didn’t give her any time to get used.  

Bucky’s hips started moving in a fast and hard pace, putting all his frustration of the night on her. And she was loving every second of it. His metal hand went to her hair, wrapping around it and pulling back. 

Y/N moans at the feeling. Bucky moved ever harder, pulling her hair back “You’re mine. You understand that?” She nods.  He growls as he moves harder, deeper and he pulls on her hair again “Say it.”  

“I’m yours.” She says moaning.  

He leans and speaks in her ear again “That’s right, you’re mine. All mine. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to make you feel this way” 

She nods again. The situation and the way he were fucking her hard, keeping her on the sink, was too much and soon her walls started clenching around his cock. Her moans started to get louder and more frequently until she finally orgasmed.  

Bucky was close. His movements tarted to get more erratic and uneven, and feeling her coming around him like that was his breaking point. He let a low groan when he finally cum inside of his girlfriend.  

They stood there, silence for a few seconds, trying to catch their breaths. Bucky was the first one to speak, his voice gentle, a contrast from previously “Are you okay?” 

Y/N nods, not moving from the sink. Bucky pulled out of her carefully, and helped her back on her feet and turning her to look at him. He watches the tired smile on her face while he fixed her dress and his pants, before he pulled her to his arms in a embrace “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” She smiles. 

He looked at her, still with a worried expression, brushing some hair from her face “I wasn’t too rough?” 

“It was perfect. Really.” 

Bucky smiles back, reassured by her words. He leans down and presses a soft, tender kiss on her forehead “Good, I didn’t want to hurt you, doll.” 

“You didn’t.” She looks at him, before speaking again “You know I love you, right? I only flirt with that guy to get a reaction out of you.” 

Bucky smirks at her words, he had a feeling that that was what she was doing but it was still good to hear a confirmation “So you were just trying to make me jealous, huh?” 

Y/N chuckles and nods “And it worked. Maybe I should make you jealous more often if it means sex like this.” 

His hands tightened on her, his voice turned almost to a growl “Don’t you dare.” 

[munsster]

sharing a bed (trope bingo)

A/N: i could melt (pun not intended. you’ll see) this trope is literally my fav, all my fics would be about it if i could… (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're cold, Bucky's a living heater. Need I say more? 1.2k words

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, sharing a bed, cuddling, nervous/borderline horny Bucky, pet names (doll, sweetheart)

You should have made this decision before your fingertips went numb. November in a northern motel room found you freezing. In basketball shorts and a crewneck, no less. You should have been in California by now, but Bucky has been dragging his feet since Maine. Though, he does drive more than half the time, so it's a sacrifice you had been willing to take.

There's no snow on the ground, but you can feel the beginnings of it on the damp pavement. Your socks are soaked through, and you cringe making a mental note to burn them. You cross your arms over your chest and tuck your fingers under your armpits, jaw clacking as you shiver. The heater in your room scuttled hurriedly to a wheezing stop five minutes after whacking it alive.

Now you're shifting from left to right outside Bucky's door with your blood about to run purple. He hollered something through the door when you knocked the second time. It was either a it's unlocked or a don't come in and you don't trust your hearing enough to distinguish between the two at midnight.

"Bucky," you whine, resting your forehead just below the peephole and trying to shake the low beating sound from your ears. You lift your head. Footsteps then a rattling chain, and he whips the door open.

"Why are you up?"

"What?" How could he be annoyed right now when you're freezing your ass off and you can practically feel the heat rolling out of his room in waves. "I'm cold."

"Well... what am I supposed to do about that?"

You roll your eyes and glare up at him. You could swear he's doing it on purpose. You could swear he's making mental bets just to play with you. Right now he's betting all his cash on who'll crack first. His bet's on you. It always is.

"James, I swear to fucking God—I will walk back to Brooklyn if you don't—"

"Jesus, don't have an aneurism, doll. Come in," he mumbles. You follow him into the little square motel room: one bed, one table, half a bathroom. Plus a TV that only plays soaps and, half the time, crackles with static. The door shuts, and you sigh. You're swaddled by heat; the blood gushes back into the tip of your nose. You can feel your joints again.

"Take this." He tosses a coat at you. At you. It's heavy and green and thick. It's army grade. "Put it on." So you put it on and zip it up. He chuckles at the sight of you because the jacket is massive: down to your knees, quarter-foot past your fingertips. It dwarfs you. It's incredible.

"I feel like a gym teacher."

"What?"

"It's a... mm… nevermind," you hum, "'M tired." Your eyes sink shut, and he watches you from the bed, entertained by your sleep-standing act. For a second, he thinks you're actually gonna fall asleep like that. But then your eyes snap wide open and he looks away.

Bucky shuffles under the sheets, and you watch him curiously through the window of the coat's hood. You suppose you'd missed the fact that he's wearing only boxers, completely shirtless with his cropped hair messily flared around his head. You start to sweat.

He looks up when you whine. "What now?"

"... It's hot."

"You're killin' me, doll."

"I know, I'm sorry," you huff, hands fiddling the flannel insides of the hot jacket sleeves. He watches you struggle to glance at the floor and becomes flush with pity for you. He sighs.

"Alright, hon, take that off and c'mere. We'll get you warm, hmm? Come here."

You flail your arm before latching onto the metal zipper tab and tugging it down with a hissing bzzzz. Bucky watches you relax and let the coat slump to the floor before you peel your socks off and toss them in the small metal trashcan by the door. You pad your way to the empty side of the bed and pat the moth-eaten comforter a few times, smoothing your hand over the soft cotton.

"Don't be shy now. I probably won't bite," he teases.

"You piss me off, Barnes."

"Oh, feel free to freeze your ass off in your room, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor."

You harrumph and swing your legs onto the mattress, sliding yourself under the sheets and tucking the blankets under your chin. You face the door, and Bucky settles in beside you, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between you. He faces the wall.

"Night, Bucky."

"Goodnight."

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, and you don't know when Bucky got so close. Or when you turned around. What you do know is that Bucky runs red hot in the middle of the night. Or maybe all the time, but you've never been skin-to-skin in the day. Hell could freeze over and Bucky would still be an inferno.

Sometime between two and three, you tossed around and ended up facing him as he crept closer unconsciously. His hands felt empty in dreams about dancing, so he reached into the darkness and tucked his fingers into the crooks of your knees to draw you into his warm body. On instinct—and because you're still in need of thawing—you curl into him and let your heart beat comfortably alongside his.

Bucky's a talker. He's a vocal sleeper. Good thing his deal was talking. Becca got saddled with sleep walking, and he remembers Ma asking him to install an extra lock high up to keep her from wandering out at twilight. Again. They'd found her mumbling at a brick wall half a block away one night and decided it was for the best.

Now he's rambling on about goats, describing their rough coats as he nuzzles into your navel. His palm spread over your back, he keeps you close, taut to every bit of his body, your leg draped over his waist.

He moans. Loud. And you shift in your sleep, fingers moving to cup the back of his head, brushing through his soft hair. His scalp is hot, and you sigh lazily as you melt further into his tight skin and smooth muscle. If either of you had woken up, it would've been a bloodbath. But for now, it's peaceful, and a dove coos from a lamppost outside.

A couple of times, you open your eyes but find yourself so disoriented, you can't bother to assume it's anymore than a dream and pass out again. At the crack of dawn, Bucky's lashes flutter open, and each of his veins flows with new life and the rising sun. It takes a second for him to realize he's breathing in the warmth of your skin. And he doesn't hate it.

He falls back asleep.

In the morning, you're both too busy adjusting to central standard time to register that you'd been pressed up close and personal all night. Too busy to acknowledge the comfort you both found in each others arms. And hands.

Over breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner, he smiles meekly, and you blink down at your short stack like nothing happened. Like nothing ever will.

marvel masterlist

[witchywithwhiskey]

for so long as you live

pairing: mafia!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: the fearsome boss of new york city's russian mob proves a point about who you belong to

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), very mild dubcon, intoxication, fingering (f receiving), public play, finger sucking, choking, breathplay, very mild blood kink, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (printsessa), very possessive bucky

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i wrote this for @the-slumberparty's emoji game using these: 🍕❤️🔥 i hope the plot twist in this actually works (idk if it counts as a PLOT twist but whatever). i just hope it's surprising but still makes sense!!! also all the russian words are from google translate so if any are wrong, let me know and i'll fix them (translations are down at the bottom because one is a spoiler!) anyway i hope y'all enjoy!!

It was a warm summer night in New York City, the kind where even the breeze was pleasant enough that you didn’t resist when a balmy gust slipped beneath the hem of your short white dress and slid up your legs, tickling the soft skin of your thighs. 

Neither did you resist when the breeze was chased by the searching hand of Bucky Barnes, his fingers skimming up your smooth skin as he curled his body around yours in the back booth of the late night Brooklyn pizza parlor.

The front door of the shop was open, and all manner of drunken Brooklynites traipsed over the threshold, intent on ordering a greasy slice that would soak up some of the alcohol in their stomachs. The crowd was loud and rowdy and thankfully unobservant, because you were painfully aware that any one of them could very easily catch you with Bucky’s hand up your skirt. 

The back booth wasn’t nearly dark enough, nor secluded enough to hide you entirely from view, but the insistent desire and warming liquor pounding in your blood made it difficult to care. 

Bucky’s fingers slid another inch up your thigh, pressing between your soft curves until they found the wetness that had dripped from your folds and made a mess under your skirt. His rumbling chuckle felt like another warm, summer breeze, suffusing you in a heat that burned from the inside out. 

Your thighs fell open of their own accord, giving Bucky unfettered access to the place that ached for his touch, even as a protesting whine worked its way up your throat.

“Bucky…” you mewled, your reticence clear in your tone. Your fingers closed around the sinewy forearm that was disappearing up your skirt, intent on pulling him away from your soaking heat. Your nails dug into his golden skin when his other hand darted out and grabbed you by the throat. 

With his thumb pressed to the hinge of your jaw, he turned your face to him, a warning sparkling in his ice blue eyes. A thrum of fear and excitement churned low in your belly at the way Bucky was looking at you—like you were prey, and he was a predator who had already decided he was going to eat you for dinner.

“I hope you weren’t about to tell me not to touch this pussy, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, his voice deep and low like an oncoming thunderstorm. His hand wedged between your thighs beneath your skirt, shoving your legs wider so that he could cup your bare heat in his palm. “I hope you haven’t forgotten who this cunt belongs to.” 

Your breath was coming in short, rabbity pants, your heart racing in your chest and your blood pounding in your veins like you were running for your life. But your mind knew what your body did not—it would be pointless to run from Bucky Barnes. 

The Zimniy Soldat was the most feared boss in the city’s Russian mafia, a fact you’d learned the hard way when your father had paid off his debts by giving you to Bucky. 

Bucky’s gaze bore into your own as he pushed two fingers into your tight channel, his eyes watching hungrily as your face went slack with pleasure. 

“I’ll touch you whenever I want,” he growled, dragging his fingers back and plunging them into you again slowly, his eyes never straying from your face. “I’ll fuck you whenever I want—where ever I want.” 

His other hand held you pinned to the leather booth by your throat, your body responding so eagerly to his touch that it felt like a betrayal. His thumb and forefinger pressed into the sides of your neck making your pussy spasm around his fingers. 

Your body proved Bucky’s point before he made it as he rumbled, “This cunt belongs to me, printsessa.” 

You hadn’t said a word since his name, but your slow submission was clear in every little movement of your body—your thighs spreading even wider for Bucky’s hand, your limbs loosening and melting into his hold, your lips falling open in a soundless moan as he fingerfucked you. Bucky owned you, and you both knew it. 

And he relished your submission, even if you hadn’t quite accepted his possession of you yet. But you would.

The victorious smile that curved Bucky’s mouth was sharp and dangerous as a knife. When he spoke, though, his voice was as warm as the balmy summer breeze. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, “give yourself to me.” The ice in his eyes was slowly but surely melting as he watched pleasure dance across your face, his smile widening into something hot and hungry. “This life of yours is mine now, printsessa, but if you’re a good girl for me, I can make sure it’s filled with pleasure and happiness,” he purred, his lips brushing against the apple of your cheek, their softness followed by the rough scrape of his scruff. 

Bucky slid a third finger into your tight hole, stretching you wider and making you bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out in pain-edged pleasure. Your chest heaved with the effort to stay quiet and, unbidden, a tear slipped from the corner of your eye while blood pooled on your lip. 

But Bucky never stopped fucking you with his fingers, his hand working your body expertly as the soft, wet sounds of your obscenely sopping cunt reached your ears. Instead, the Zimniy Soldat kissed the tear from your cheek and licked the blood from your swollen lip, pulling back to stare into your eyes as he watched you come undone for him. 

“You are mine,” he said with a tone of finality, as if his statement was an incontrovertible fact. Any protest you might’ve had—though in truth, you didn’t have any left—died in your throat as he choked you harder, his fingers working your pussy faster, grinding the heel of his palm into your wet, puffy clit as he continued on, pushing you to the edge of your release. “Moya printsessa, moya zhena.” 

You felt Bucky’s ring—your husband’s ring—smooth and unyielding and warm from his skin, slip inside your cunt as he buried his fingers in your body. He rubbed your clit ruthlessly until he made you come right there in the back of the pizza parlor, not caring if anyone in the crowded shop could see it.

Your left hand, bedecked in a dazzling white sapphire ring and matching wedding band, wrapped around the back of Bucky’s neck, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to the most dangerous man in all of New York City while he made you come harder than you ever had before. Pleasure tore through your body as you held Bucky’s warm blue gaze, staring at the man who’d staked his claim on you.

The man you’d married only a few hours prior because it was the only way to settle your father’s debts.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Bucky growled, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm, his eyes watching you hungrily, greedily.

Already, you could read him well enough to know he was thinking about watching you come on his cock as he claimed you in the most base, primal way possible. Your pussy clenched harder on his fingers at the thought, your body aching for it even as you came.

“Come all over your husband’s fingers—see how good I can be to you when you obey me, printsessa.” 

Your teeth had sunk deep into your lower lip to quell any sounds of ecstasy, but the pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and you threw your head back. Your breathy cry was muffled by Bucky’s fingers choking your throat harder, which only wrung even more bliss out of your body as black crept into the edges of your vision. 

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, your husband’s relentless touch dragging out your release until your strangled moans devolved into desperate whimpers. Tears gathered in your lashes, and your entire body trembled in the red leather booth at the back of the pizza parlor.

Only then did Bucky relent. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured before his lips slammed down on yours, his mouth claiming yours just as surely as his fingers had claimed your cunt. 

He swallowed the keening whine you let out when he pulled his fingers from your throbbing pussy, your body aching at the loss of him. But then he replaced his mouth with them, pushing his fingers between your lips so you could taste your release—the release he’d wrung so masterfully from your body.

“Clean up your mess, moya zhena,” Bucky rumbled, his eyes sparkling with depraved delight as you dutifully licked his fingers clean.

When he decided you were done, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and let you collapse against his chest, your cheek pressed to his white cotton dress shirt—the one he’d worn to your wedding earlier that day. 

His jacket had been shed at some point during the party at one of his nightclubs—a club decorated in neon red hearts. Bucky had smirked in amusement when you’d pointed out the irony of celebrating your forced marriage in a place where the theme was love. 

That infuriating smirk had made you decide the best way to celebrate your sham nuptials was to drink and dance the night away. You’d spent your night trying not to notice how handsome the mob boss you’d married was, or how delicious he looked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Or how a very small part of you enjoyed the way his eyes never strayed from you for long. 

It had been your idea to get some pizza after the club, a last ditch attempt to put off the wedding night you were certain Bucky expected. You kept telling yourself you didn’t want him to touch you, but the second his fingers had grazed your bare knee beneath the simple white dress you wore, tingles of pleasure going straight to your clit, you’d known it was no use pretending you didn’t want your new husband. 

When your father told you he’d arranged for you to marry the Zimniy Soldat in exchange for having his debts cleared, you never believed you could find anything to like about your mob boss husband. But Bucky had proven you very wrong in that back booth in the pizza parlor, and you were warming up to the idea of being Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Tell me you’re mine, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, drawing your thoughts back to the present moment. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head where it was tucked under his chin, and your heart flipped happily in your chest.

The words were no less a command for the warmth in his tone that he seemed to reserve for only you, his new wife. 

Perhaps it was because of the pleasure still thrumming through your body, or because you weren’t so convinced anymore that being married to the Zimniy Soldat would be a bad thing, but the words came much easier to your lips than you would’ve expected. 

“I’m yours, my husband.” 

A pleased sound rumbled in Bucky’s throat and you felt the way his heart beat harder in his chest with your cheek pressed to his sternum. You couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips when Bucky threaded the fingers of his left hand through yours, your matching rings slotting next to each other and glittering beneath the yellow lights of the pizza parlor.

“You’ll be happy with me,” Bucky promised, the most recent of many vows he’d made to you that day. His words rang with determination and an emotion you’d never expected to hear from the mob boss—adoration. “So long as you always remember you belong to me, moya zhena.” 

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at his possessive words, finding yourself liking them much more than you would’ve thought. 

Something told you that you’d never forget you belonged to Bucky Barnes. Not at any point during the hopefully long and happy life you were going to live with him. You were his wife, and he was your husband, for so long as you both should live.

translations:

printsessa/moya printsessa - princess/my princess

Zimniy Soldat - Winter Soldier

moya zhena - my wife

[aquaticmercy]

My Own Soul’s Warning

Summary : You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Violence, death, trauma, mentions of sex (not graphic), cursing. Rio Vidal makes an appearance. Angst with a happy ending. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 6.3k

Note : This fic was inspired by Agatha and Rio, though this has a much happier ending. Reader is the Spirit of Suffering, an immortal entity who shows herself to people in extreme physical and emotional suffering to help ease the pain. The title is inspired by the Killers song of the same name. The fic started in the 1940s and ends after FATWS. Enjoy!

The sequel to this story is out now!

Bucky x Spirit of Suffering!reader masterlist

The first time Bucky saw you, it was 1942. He was in the trenches, under the dim moonlight of Germany.

He was supposed to be Sergeant James Barnes, fighting to defend his country. But then? He was only selfishly fighting for his own life. 

The air was thick with the stench of mud, sweat, and blood. The world around him felt like a prison of haze and darkness— machine guns firing in the distance, the rumble of explosions shaking the ground underneath him. 

He knew it only took one mistake, one slip up, and this is how he would die.

He was tired beyond anything he’d ever felt before, his body crumbling after days without sleep. His body ached from wounds he hadn’t couldn’t treat— the infirmary was crowded, too crowded to even see the ‘small’ gushing cut on his forearm that didn’t feel so small right now. 

But he could take the physical pain. It was the gnawing fear that was the hardest to bear, creeping over him, curling around his ribs like a rope, tightening until it hurt to breathe.

Then, through the smoke and shadows, he saw you. 

You were just a figure at first, standing a few yards away. You were cloaked in the same darkness that had swallowed up his world. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed that you didn’t quite belong.

You were almost radiant, the flickering light from the fire catching on something otherworldly in your gaze. Bullets flew past you, going through your being as if you were only made of smoke.

You were watching him, silent and still. Your expression was carefully neutral, a warmth in your eyes that cut through the cold surrounding him.

He blinked, half-believing you were just a figment of his exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again, you were still there, a steady presence in the middle of the chaos. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace swallow him, like the world had gone silent in the space between his heartbeat and your gaze. 

You didn’t say a word, but you didn’t need to. Just being there, in a place where everything was twisted and brutal and so fucking wrong, you felt like a sliver of peace in this nightmare that was wartime. 

Something deep in his gut told him that he wasn’t meant to understand who, or rather what, you were. And yet, he felt safer at the mere presence of you. Before he could reach out to test if you were real, you were gone— slipping away into the dark like a ghost.

—

The next time he saw you was when he was half-dead, bleeding out in the snow after the fall from the train. The pain was more than unbearable, raw and sharp and insufferable. His nerves burned, radiating from every shattered bone, every freezing inch of his numb skin. 

His vision blurred, the sky above flickering in and out of view as his mind faded in and out of consciousness. He wondered if this was going to be his death, a slow and dramatic fade to black he only ever saw in the movies Steve dragged him to.

Then he saw you again, standing in the snow.

The sight of you jolted him back to consciousness, just enough to cling to the edge of the living world. This time, there was no mistaking the look on your face— a look of concern. 

For a moment, he thought you must be an angel coming to collect him. 

You must be. 

There you were, silently watching him with that same expression of warmth he’d seen in the trenches.

He struggled to sit up to get a better look at you, every little movement sent pain shooting through him. Finally, he slumped back to the snow in defeat, breathing hard. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, nearly swallowed up by the howling wind.

The cold, harsh winter wasn’t a place for someone who looked as fragile as you, he thought.

You carefully took a step closer, as if unwilling to disturb him. There was a slight curve to your lips, something that could have been a smile but wasn’t quite, as you looked down at him. “I’m looking out for someone.”

He swallowed a strange lump in his throat, the sharp tang of fear and curiosity contrasting the cold bite of the freezing air. “Who?” His voice cracked, barely audible.

“You,” you said, your voice as quiet as a prayer.

It was such a simple answer, but it hit him like a wave. In the midst of all the pain, he suddenly felt relief. 

The hurt eased, the cold stung a little less.

He didn’t know if you were a dream, a ghost, or something beyond his understanding. But at that moment, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were there, that you had come for him. That he wasn’t alone. 

As his vision started to fade again and the darkness crept back, he realised you didn't leave any footprints in the snow. 

—

Bucky didn’t know why you kept showing up. 

Over the years, he felt your presence like his own shadow, drifting through the Hydra bases, the laboratories, the dark corners of the cell they kept him in between missions. The world around him was cold and sterile, a cage of steel where hope had no place, no right to exist.

Still, he saw you, quiet and watchful, a silhouette in the dim light. 

He would catch glimpses of you while the scientists strapped him to machines, the hum of needles piercing his flesh. You were there, watching over him, as they shocked cold electricity through his veins. Each time, his eyes would land on you, and you’d watch him from the far corner of the room, with that same calm, steady gaze.

Everytime his eyes locked on yours, the pain eased, even if only a little.

It became easier to take the torture.

It became easier to find rest.

Over time, Hydra erased his memories. 

Soon, he forgot his life. He forgot the people who used to love him, who grieved for him when he was lost. 

But he had never forgotten you. 

Maybe it was the first sign that you weren’t quite human.

One night, after a particularly brutal round of reprogramming, he saw you again, this time closer than ever before. 

You stood by his bedside, where he lay in the dark, barely clinging to sanity. He blinked, pain searing in his throat. He tried to reach for you, fingers trembling, and felt nothing.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, as he felt that comfort once again. 

The comfort he only had with you.

A soft smile touched your lips, something gentle and knowing. You were a light in the darkness of his fractured mind. “Far, far away from here.”

He closed his eyes, trying to etch your face to his memory, certain that if he did, he could take some small fragment of comfort back into the waking nightmare that was his brutal reality.

You knew, by the way his life was going, that you were going to see Bucky more and more.

It was the nature of your job, to look out for people like him.

After the next couple of visits, he started talking to you more and more— whenever he was left alone with his thoughts, whenever the pain or the hollow emptiness crept too close, he would search for you. 

And you’d be there, listening to the murmured secrets he’d never told another soul. 

He told himself you weren’t real, that he was just losing his grip on sanity, conjuring a kind face to stave off the horror. But that didn’t stop him from craving your presence.

—

Years later, he’d managed to break free of Hydra’s grip. He had carved out a life hiding in the far reaches of the world when he saw you again, as if you’d followed him through every corner of hell he’d tried to escape.

Romania was quiet, the kind of place where he could keep to himself. He had a run down studio apartment where the days blurred by and the silence was almost peaceful. 

Yet in that solitude, you appeared again, lingering in the shadow of an alleyway, or standing just beyond his view on quiet, empty streets. He’d catch your gaze through crowds when he was most alone, and he’d feel an overwhelming sense of calm, an unexplainable rush he could only have with you. 

It was on one of those quiet evenings, when he was washing dishes, that he saw you again, watching him from across the room. He stared, wiping his hands absently on the dish towel, still unsure if he was simply dreaming.

He called out in that soft voice of his, almost a whisper.

“Thank you for being here.” It was a simple admission, but it was true.

You tilted your head, that familiar gentleness in your eyes. “Always.” He replied.

The suffering he had recently was different— it wasnt physical as it usually was. It was an isolated sense of longing that broke the deepest parts of his heart, one that he couldn't quite heal himself.

Your warm and steady voice anchored him to the present. For the first time, he didn’t try to tell himself that you were a figment of his imagination. For just a moment, he let himself believe that you were standing there, real and alive, not just an invention of his lonely mind. 

And even as you disappeared, slipping away into the shadows, the feeling of your presence lingered, filling the emptiness around him.

—

The last rays of Wakanda’s sun slipped over the treetops, bathing everything in a warm, honeyed light that somehow reached even into the white-walled lab where Bucky was preparing himself for a long, cold sleep. 

He looked around, his gaze fixing on the distant horizon, the soft sounds of Shuri and the lab assistants moving in the background. 

He could feel his heart pounding. He was terrified, the horror clawing into him, even though he knew that this was the right decision. He knew that it was the safest thing for him to do— to go back in the ice until his trigger words could be removed.

It didn't stop the instinctive dread of being shut away again, though.

And then he saw you, standing behind a desk. He didn’t know how you’d gotten there, or if anyone else could even see you.

But there you were, just as you’d been so many times before, giving him a piece of calm he didn't quite understand.

For a long moment, he said nothing. He only looked at you. 

Somehow, you looked more real in this light, more human than he’d ever seen you before. Still, you had that hint of almost supernatural haze. He took a deep breath, feeling safer by the second, now that you were here.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, the words coming out like a whispered plea. He didn’t expect you to answer, not really.

His heart beat quicker as he waited, hoping you wouldn’t vanish as quickly this time.

You just smiled, that same soft, knowing smile you’d given him in the darkest hours of his life.

You nodded, “Only if you need me.”

The warmth of your words lingered in his mind as he took one last look at you. He felt the tension in his chest loosen, just enough to let him breathe again. He laid down, a feeling of peace settling over him. 

He closed his eyes, holding the memory of you close, feeling the faint impression of your smile stay with him as he drifted into the dark.

—

The next time he saw you, it was in the middle of another waking nightmare—the battlefield of Wakanda, chaos erupting in every direction as the forces of Thanos closed in. Bucky was fighting on pure instinct, his body moving with an instinct he’d learned in war. He drew on more and more on his Hydra training and sheer luck. 

After Thanos snapped, he saw you again. You were standing behind Steve, amongst the trees.

For the first time, your expression was not calm. You looked terrified. Your eyes, usually so steady, were wide, your face pale as you looked at him with a horror he’d never seen from you before.

Something inside him understood. He knew, even before the feeling swept over him—a strange tingling, a disintegration at the frayed edges of his body—that he was about to be turned to dust.

He tried to reach out, to touch you, to ask if he’d see you on the other side, but before he could say a word, he felt himself fade, slipping into nothingness, his best friend’s name the last thing he uttered.

—

When he returned—when the world pieced itself back together after five long years—he felt the dread of loneliness again. 

You came, though it felt like you carried a deeper sadness in your gaze than before. It was as if you had… missed him.

When Steve left, when Bucky watched his best friend walk away, disappearing into a life they’d both only dreamed of, he felt the emptiness he had left in his wake.

He stood there, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feeling a hollow emptiness settle inside him, knowing he’d lost something irreplaceable, something that could never be returned when Steve decided to live a life he always wanted.

Then he saw you again, just a few steps next to him. He almost didn’t dare to look, afraid that you’d vanish if he did. When he finally turned, there you were, as calm as you’d always been, watching him with that familiar warmth and understanding.

“You’re not alone,” you murmured, your voice so gentle it felt like a medicine to the sickness of his soul.

He swallowed hard, nodding as he looked down. He tried to keep his composure, though he failed. 

He couldn’t bring himself to ask you who you truly were, if you truly knew the depth of what he’d lost, if you understood the kind of grief that was now carved so deeply inside him.

And you did. Grief was a human suffering, after all.

You stayed there, silent, a quiet witness to his pain as you offered a supernatural solace. 

—

Over the years that followed, you'd show up when the loneliness clawed too deep, when the nightmares took hold or when the silence of his apartment was too much to bear on his own. 

He started talking to you more than ever before.

When the silence weighed heavy on him, he’d glance into the shadows, almost expecting you to appear. And, as if by some unspoken agreement, you’d arrive just in time.

Yet, you never came too close. You stayed at a distance, as if you were made of something too fragile for this world. Bucky never minded, though. He had learned early on that pressing you for answers, for explanations, only ended with your departure. So he stopped asking them. He started accepting your presence as a gift he wasn’t meant to understand.

You were simply…there, steady and unchanging, offering comfort and warmth in a way no one else could. 

He’d tell you things he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else—confessions that clawed up from the darkest corners of his mind, memories from the days he wished he could erase. You would listen, without judgement, without a flicker of fear or revulsion. Your presence only ever brought you peace.

In those quiet, lonely moments, he came to rely on you, to look for you in the shadows. You were a silent companion in his darkest hours. And though he never stopped wondering who you truly were, he let himself believe, if only a little, that he had someone, that you were real enough to him.

—

One night, after a long silence had fallen between you, he confessed something.

“You know,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow and exhaustion, “I don’t… I don’t think you’re real.” He tried to smile, but it was faint. It was hollow. “I think to you’re just… my mind is playing tricks on me. I think I needed someone so badly that I made you up.”

He was laying himself bare. Raw. Vulnerable.

He was almost afraid to look at you, afraid that if he did, you would disappear, proving his confession true. Then, he forced himself to meet your eyes, searching for any sign of reaction.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t deny it. 

You only looked back at him with that same soft understanding.

“You’re just…” he murmured, trailing off. “You’re the most beautiful person I could imagine, someone I must have conjured to… to keep me from losing my mind.” He laughed bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face, not quite meeting your gaze. “Because no one like you would actually be here. Would actually want to be with someone as broken as me.”

He waited, his heart beating harshly. Part of him hoping you’d break the illusion, that you’d tell him he was wrong, that you were real. 

Faint sadness flickered in your eyes. “Suffering has never broken you before,” you said, “It will not break you now.” 

You didn’t confirm his fears, but you didn’t deny them either. 

That quiet, ambiguous acceptance soothed him more than any promise could have.

He let the questions go, even though they lingered in the back of his mind. 

He came to understand that perhaps it didn’t matter if you were real or not. He only needed you.

—

It was the dead of night, and Bucky was trembling.

He had woken up in cold sweat, the remnants of his nightmare gripping him like icy chains. He sat up, pressing his hands to his face, trying to push away the memories that refused to fade, the fractured images of a past that haunted him even in sleep. He swallowed, his voice rough, almost a whisper, as he murmured into the dark.

“Where are you?” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, come back.” His heart pounded, his words barely a breath as he called for you, “Come back to me.”

He let his head fall into his hands, feeling so fucking foolish. 

He should've known.

He should’ve known that after all this time, he was still calling for a ghost, for a figment of his imagination, for someone he’d conjured out of pure, pathetic loneliness. 

As his breathing slowed, he felt something shift in the quiet corners of his room. A familiar warmth settled over him, gentle and comforting. He raised his head, and there you were, standing just a few feet away.

For a long moment, he simply stared, disbelief and wonder filling his stare. You looked more solid than he’d ever seen you before, as if reality had woven itself around you.

Light no longer passed through you. Your footsteps made thudding sounds on the ground. You tripped over a couple of the steps, as if learning how to walk with legs for the first time.

You moved closer towards him.

Seeing him so shaken, so desperately calling for you, had drawn you out in a way that felt irreversible. His cry was a pull too strong to resist. 

Gently, you reached out, your fingertips brushing his cheeks, tracing the faint stubble along his jaw, the warmth of his skin grounding you in this physical form. 

It was wrong for an immortal entity as ancient as you to take human form— you felt weaker, and your grasp on the unknown faltered. You knew, when you inevitably had to return to your ethereal form, that you would be exhausted. That it would hurt.

But after nearly a century of watching over James Buchanan Barnes, you had to know what his skin felt like.

His breath hitched at your touch. Slowly, his hands rose, trembling, to cover yours, pressing your palms to his face as if he was afraid you might disappear.

He blinked, eyes wide, searching your face. “You’re… real,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, an astonished relief flooding his eyes. “I can feel you.”

You nodded, letting your hands cradle his face, your thumbs softly brushing over his cheekbones. For a while, you stayed like that, letting his mind settle on the reality of you. 

“Who… who are you?” His voice was filled with awe. His gaze locked onto yours, desperate for answers.

You took a steady breath— and it felt off, like you had to learn it. 

You had never needed to breathe before. But now, you needed it as much as you needed him. 

You knew that him knowing what you were wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“I am the Spirit of Suffering,” you said quietly, your voice as soft as the night around you. “I ease the pain of those who suffer, showing myself to those who need me most. For eons, I’ve been drawn to pain, to sorrow. But… I’ve never been drawn to someone like you.”

His brow furrowed, confusion mingling with a sense of awe as he processed your words. He searched your face, as if trying to reconcile the warmth of your touch with the truth.

“You’ve been watching over me?” he murmured, struggling to fully grasp the revelation. 

You nodded, the truth spinning between you like a fragile thread. “Yes,” you admitted, your voice gentle, almost a whisper. “Every time you were in pain, it was my job to be there. The natural forces would not let me stop what happened to you, James, but I could keep you company, share the weight of your sorrow.”

He closed his eyes, his hands still covering yours. His grip on you tightened, trying to anchor himself to this moment. “So all those times I thought I was imagining you…”

“You weren’t,” you said softly, your gaze unwavering. 

He took a shaky breath.

You sat on the bed next to him, feeling the softness of bedsheets for the first time in your eternal existence.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, James.” Your hand drifted down to cover his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath your palm. “In all the lifetimes I’ve witnessed, through all the suffering I’ve felt, I’ve seen people become monsters, lose themselves to pain and suffering. But you… you never let it consume you. No matter how much they took from you, no matter how much you suffered, there’s still kindness in you.” You smiled, a flicker of admiration in your gaze. “You were the first person to show me that suffering doesn’t have to destroy.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His touch was fleeting, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real. He searched your face, seeing the depth of who you truly  were. He saw your boundless compassion, the centuries, maybe millenia, of understanding that lingered in your gaze. 

You had been more than a dream, more than a figment of his imagination.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sincere gratitude, “for helping.” 

As you looked at him, you realised just how much he needed you. And perhaps just how much you needed him.

—

Every night that he called for you, you’d be there for him, sacrificing your eternal strength just for a moment.

Just before the dawn’s first light, you’d pull away from Bucky’s life and disappear, dissolving back into the unknown.

You always lingered as long as you could, your human heart aching at the thought of leaving him alone again. But still, you slipped away, returning to your role as the silent companion of suffering, never able to stay beyond a few hours.

But Bucky kept calling for you.

Sometimes he’d wake from a nightmare, his voice rough with sleep and fear, calling you like a prayer, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world. Sometimes he’d simply whisper into the dark, reaching out with an open hand, searching for your touch.

And each time, you answered. Despite the strain it placed on you, the unnatural weight of becoming flesh and blood for him, you would come back. You took on human form again and again, letting him feel the warmth of your hands. You told yourself that you could bear it, that his comfort was worth any mortal pain that your immortal spirit had to carry.

One night, in a moment of weakness, as you sat together on the edge of his bed, he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel as if your duties had disappeared. 

The silence stretched, and you could see what his eyes carried. The tenderness, the gratitude, the fierce need for you. He lifted a hand, gently brushing his fingers along your cheek. The softness of his touch reverberated through your flesh and blood. You were suddenly made aware that you had a beating heart as it was pounding against your fragile ribcage.

Before you could process the feeling, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle, soft as a whisper, but it set something inside you alight, a sensation you’d never known before. 

You had seen humanity’s love from a distance, had watched the joy and heartbreak it could bring, but this… this was something beyond mere understanding. His lips were warm and real against yours, the taste of him grounding you in this fleeting human form in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

For a moment, you were frozen, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips, the rhythm steady, grounding. And then, almost instinctively, you kissed him back. You leaned into him, feeling the depth of his sorrow and his hope in that single, shared breath. 

Every inch of you felt alive, pulled into his gravity, the intensity of this moment overwhelming every human sense you didn't think you’d ever experience.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I’ve waited so long to feel this,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “To feel you like this.”

You felt a swell of emotion like a lightning strike— something so unfamiliar and impossible to ignore. You were a spirit who had known only of pain and how to relieve it, who had wandered the world in search of suffering to ease, yet this—this was something else entirely. This was desire, love—all foreign feelings that made you want to stay, to linger in his arms a little longer.

But dawn was coming, as it always did. Despite the ache in your chest, you knew you had to go. The world was waiting; and others needed you, too. 

With one last touch, your fingers brushing along his cheek, memorising the feeling of his skin.

You slipped away, dissolving back into the unseen, feeling his absence as if it were a physical wound.

—

It became a brutal cycle.

Every morning you would go, and every other night, when he called, you returned. Each time, the kiss lingered in your memory, the softness of his lips, the rush of your pulse, the racing of a heart that should not be yours to feel. It left you longing, yearning, pulling you back to him over and over, until every time you left felt like you were tearing yourself apart.

And though you slipped away at dawn, leaving Bucky alone with the shadows, you knew that a part of you stayed, lingering there beside him, just waiting for night to fall again so you could return to him.

One night, Bucky reached for you. His touch was gentle and filled with a hunger that was new to you. 

Tonight, he had a human desire for you that you had only observed in passing. His fingers entwined with yours, rough and warm, pulling you closer with a care that sent a strange warmth rushing through you. You sensed a gravity between you, one that seemed to draw every part of your physical form into his orbit, a sensation you never could have understood in your ethereal form.

As he guided you towards his bed, his gaze stayed on yours, searching and vulnerable, as though asking for permission. You felt a flicker of understanding in his silence, a human fragility and need that made your heart—this temporary, fragile, human heart—beat a little faster. 

You nodded.

When he leaned in to kiss you, the sensation was breathtaking, as it always was. 

That night, he showed you the depths of human pleasure, the way mortal love could break open walls so high so intensely that the shockwave that came after felt endless. Every caress of his hands, every whisper against your skin, seared into you like a brand.

Bucky gave you something new, grounding you in sensations you didn’t know were possible. In his arms, your physical senses were overwhelmed by the beauty and ache of human desire.

With each touch, each shared breath, he showed you parts of himself he had never shown anyone in a long, long time.

And as he moved with you, every boundary between the known and unknown seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you, bound in a shared, silent understanding that felt more ethereal than anything you’ve ever encountered.

When it was over, he held you close, his fingers tracing soft, slow patterns across your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder— it was the truth. His eyes met yours, laying his heart bare for you to do whatever you pleased with it. To cherish or to break, he really didn’t care, as long as you were the one holding onto it. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I do.”

In those words, you finally understood humanity’s deepest, truest suffering—the need to love and be loved.

For eons, you had only known suffering, solitude. The burden of easing pain without truly being seen, without knowing love in its purest form. But with Bucky, it was different.

“I love you too, James,” you whispered. It was a confession, as much a promise as it was a revelation. And you meant it. You felt a love that was boundless, stretching far beyond what this temporary human form of yours could contain.

Days passed, and each night, he would pull you close, his touch tender, his words gentle. His love was a constant that anchored you in this fragile, borrowed form. But each morning, as the first light crept over the horizon, you would pull yourself away, fading back into the shadows. 

Every time you left, you saw the ache in his eyes, a silent plea that grew more desperate with each parting.

—

One night, after holding you in silence, you felt Bucky suffered more than he ever did before.

You felt the sorrow, and even you couldn't calm him down from this desperate longing that had fragmented his heart into a million pieces— it was knowledge that you couldn’t truly be his and that he couldn’t truly be yours that had caused this pain. It was knowing that, as long as you were immortal, you couldn’t possibly belong to a mortal man.

“Please stay,” he whispered, his hands shaking as they held you. “Don’t go. I can’t… I can’t keep saying goodbye. I don’t want to only see you in fragments of stolen time.” He squeezed you. His eyes were filled with a raw, desperate longing. “I want you here— with me. Always.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. You wanted to say yes, to let yourself stay, to finally surrender to this love and the peace it offered. But you knew better than anyone of your nature. You were bound to the suffering of others, woven into the fabric of pain that had defined you for a long, long time.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words breaking as you forced them out. “I want to, more than anything. But I… I’m not meant to stay. There are others who need me.”

A flash of pain crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, trying to swallow the heartache that threatened to bury him. He nodded, though you could see struggle that lingered in the lines on his face.

“Just stay a little longer tonight,” he murmured, his voice tight, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

And so you held him a little longer, feeling the fragility of this human connection, the knowing that you would have to let him go. You stayed with him until the stars faded from the sky, until the dawn began to creep over the horizon. And as you finally pulled away, slipping back into the shadows, you felt a piece of yourself break, a piece that would always belong to him, no matter how far you wandered.

—

One day, as Bucky’s heart prepared to stop beating, you stood by him, devastated.

You were there as a phantom, feeling his soul slip through your fingers as he lay on the concrete after a mission gone wrong. He was unconscious, his life hanging by a thread as he fought to come back from the edge. In all the centuries of comforting humanity, you had never felt such fear, such desperation. 

While you watched him, fragile and fading away, you felt something shatter deep within you.

His breath was shallow— his fate uncertain. He would only have minutes to live. 

But you couldn’t lose him. 

So you made a choice that you had once thought impossible. 

With a heavy heart, you turned and sought out the one being who held the power to intervene: Rio Vidal, Death herself.

Death came to you quietly when you summoned her to the darkness neither of you occupied. She moved with an eternal calm, her presence as vast and ancient as the stars. She looked at you, her dark eyes filled with the weight of ages that rivalled your own. Her stare was neither evil nor kind. 

You knew that she'd already understood why you called for her. 

“Don’t take him,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Not now.” You were pathetic, desperation rising in frantically— a desperation that followed you into your ethereal form, an ache that you hadn’t known could exist in your immortal heart. “For the first time, I’ve found someone… someone I love. I can’t lose him.”

Rio regarded you quietly, her expression unreadable. She had seen countless souls come and go. She had met lovers, warriors, and spirits alike, each bargaining for one more breath, one more chance. But she had also never seen you — Suffering herself— here, pleading for a life. You, who had roamed the earth for centuries without attachment, a solitary being who moved through suffering like water, soothing but never bound. 

To see you now, so deeply connected, intrigued her.

Perhaps, she gave you a chance because she once felt this way, too.

“What would you give?” she asked softly, sheathing back her blade.

The answer rose in you, going again your own soul’s warning. 

“I’d give my immortality,” you replied without a second thought. “One day, you can take my soul, too. Just let me live beside him for as long as he has. Let me trade eternity for a single lifetime with him.”

Rio was silent for a long time, her gaze thoughtful, searching. 

“Do you understand what you’re offering?” she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and pity. “To become mortal is to surrender everything you have known—the ability to exist beyond pain and beyond time itself. You would feel suffering as they do, you would face the limitations of flesh as they do.”

"I’m sure.” you nodded with nothing but conviction, “I would rather face an end, rather give up everything, than live without him for a single moment."

Rio studied you one last time, her stare as vast as the void between stars. Then, slowly, she inclined her head, a flicker of respect in her eyes. 

"When he is gone, I will come for you, too." Her voice softened just a little. "Cherish this life. It is not easily won."

When she vanished, you felt the world shift around you, felt your soul ground itself in ways it never had before. Your body solidified, your senses sharpened, and you felt, for the first time, the steady permanent rhythm of a heartbeat pulsing within your chest. 

You were no longer the Spirit of Suffering, bound to pain and sorrow. You, now permanently, were flesh and blood– human in every sense. 

And for the first time in forever, you felt real— mortal, permanently.

—

Bucky was recovering, weak but alive.

When you knocked on his door, he opened it, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you standing there, no longer a fleeting vision that appeared in his room.

You walked all the way here, your barefoot aching from the harshness of the concrete.

You were solid, as real as he was, standing on his doorstep with tears in your eyes.

He had never seen you cry before. He wasn't even sure if you could.

"You're… you’re here," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch you, to be certain that you were truly there. His fingers brushed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin, and his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone as if committing this moment to memory. “You feel different,” he murmured, awe in his voice. 

“I’m here to stay,” you said, voice brimming with love you could barely contain, your own hand lifting to cover his. 

He let out a shaky breath, and his eyes searched yours, filling with a warmth and disbelief so deep that it mirrored your own. He pulled you into his arms, holding you as though afraid you might vanish again.

But you didn’t. 

You were here, bathed in sunlight, and real.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the thrumming of his veins against yours, knowing that, finally, your heart would beat alongside his for as long as time allowed.

-end 

Read the sequel to this story: Symptom of Life

I would love to explore this further! Maybe Bucky helps you find a name, maybe even pulls some strings to give you a fake birth certificate and ID. Maybe he realises that time is fleeting and has a courthouse wedding with you ASAP.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to Sam as his wife, and he realises that he’s seen you before, when Riley got shot out of the sky.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to the Thunderbolts* as his wife, and they all would have seen you before, at some point in their life:

Yelena would have seen you when she stood over Nat’s memorial.

Alexei would have seen you when he got separated from his girls for the first time.

John would’ve seen you when he killed that flag smasher with Cap’s shield, grieving Lemar.

Ava would have seen you when she was a kid, phasing out in and out uncontrollably in extreme pain.

Antonia would’ve seen you when the bomb blew on her face.

Or maybe I could explore more of how it affects you. How you now have human guilt to live with, knowing there’s no one out there anymore easing human suffering. Now, you also have to deal with your own human suffering.

Maybe people keep recognising you, keep pointing you out as if they’ve seen a ghost because you once came to them in a time of need.

Maybe you keep your powers? Maybe I should explore how those powers would manifest in a human body?

Anyway, let me know if you’re interested in any of these ideas and I might write them!

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part one

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)

WC: 9.1K

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.

Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them

Series Masterlist

It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.

This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.

Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.

Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.

You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.

Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"

"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.

"Where's Mom?" you asked.

"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."

"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.

"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."

She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.

You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.

"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.

"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.

"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."

You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.

"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.

You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.

The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.

You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.

"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.

"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.

"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.

"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."

"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.

"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.

"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."

"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.

"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.

"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"

"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.

"How far along are you again?" you asked.

"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.

"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.

"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.

"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.

"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.

If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.

So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.

"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed.

"So why were you even with him?"

"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."

"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.

"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."

"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."

"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.

"Baby names?" you asked.

"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."

You giggled and stood to join her.

"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.

After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.

Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"

"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.

Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.

A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.

You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.

"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?

"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.

"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."

He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"How do you know Paul and Martha?"

Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.

"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.

"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.

"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.

"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.

"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.

"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."

"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."

"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.

"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.

"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"

Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.

"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.

"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.

"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.

"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.

"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.

"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.

You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.

"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"

"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."

You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"

You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.

"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"

You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.

"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.

"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.

You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.

Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.

You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.

As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.

Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into

You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.

"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"

"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"

"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.

"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.

"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."

"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.

"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!

"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"

"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.

He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.

"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.

"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."

"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.

You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.

Oh my god, what if she died?

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.

Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.

"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.

"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.

"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.

"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.

"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.

"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.

"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."

You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.

"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.

"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.

"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."

You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?

"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"

Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.

"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.

Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?

You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?

You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?

You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?

You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.

Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?

You giggled and tapped out a reply.

You: I'd love to!

Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7

Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.

You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.

You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.

"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.

"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.

"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"

"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.

"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.

"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."

"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.

"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.

"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"

"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."

"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."

"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.

"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.

"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."

"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.

"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.

"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.

Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.

But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.

Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.

For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.

Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.

Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.

Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.

"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.

"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.

"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.

"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.

"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.

"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."

Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.

"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."

"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."

Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.

You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.

Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.

"Yeah, did you?"

"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."

You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.

"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.

"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."

"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.

"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.

"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.

"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.

"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.

"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.

"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."

"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.

"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.

"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.

"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."

His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.

"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."

You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.

Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.

"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.

"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.

"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.

"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"

You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.

"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.

"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.

"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.

"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.

"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.

"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.

"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.

"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.

"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.

"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.

"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.

All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.

"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.

Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.

A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.

"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.

Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.

"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.

After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.

You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.

He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.

You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.

"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.

You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.

"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.

Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.

Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.

Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.

His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

→ premise: steve and bucky would follow you to the ends of the earth. one call of their names and they’re at your service. they’re obsessed, only problem is you aren’t theirs, not yet anyways.

→ pairing: roomates!stucky x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, body worship, love marks [hickies, bites, etc], nicknames [baby, sweetie, sweets], mention of cheating [not reader or the boys]

→ a/n: kinktober 01

Living with two grown men may seem like an odd arrangement, but when those men would go to the ends of the earth to make you comfortable it wasn’t so bad. You’ve been living with Steve and Bucky for almost 2 years and it was amazing. You didn’t understand why they were always so caring and attentive to you, not that you were complaining but it had led to fights with your boyfriend John. He accused you of cheating on him with one if not both of them multiple times. Though you repeatedly denied it and said they have never even laid a hand on you in that way.

Although unbeknownst to you was how many times late into the night with soft footsteps Steve would sneak into Bucky's room or vice versa. The both of them worked up over all the depraved and dirty images of you and your hands on them flashing in their heads as they tried to sleep. Soft kisses to muffle their desperate moans against the others lips, hips pressed up against one another. A hand each wrapped around the other man's cock fisting it trying to get the thoughts of you to quiet down in their heads. Them pulling apart slowly in the end with swollen lips, cum covered chests and the odd unfulfillment of both men secretly wishing you were squeezed between them.

In the middle of a particularly nasty fight with your boyfriend about the same topic he let his own infidelity slip, admitting he cheated on you.

“Well, I'm glad I cheated on you, it only makes us fair if you’re going around screwing and whoring yourself out for your roommates” His words replayed in your head even now as you sluggishly pushed your way inside your apartment.

The front door slamming shut and your muffled sniffles and cries have Steve and Bucky jumping up on their feet before you even make it fully inside.

”Hey hey sweetie what happened” Steve coos as he lightly tries wiping away your tears with the sleeve of his shirt though more and more just kept pouring from your eyes. Steve was to your right and Bucky to your left, they often crowarded your space but an odd comfort and sense of security came with it, especially now. In an attempt to explain you let out broken words cut off with cries and sniffles that sound like gibberish to the boys.

“Let's sit down, sweets okay?” Bucky questions softly and hesitantly as they both lead you with a hand hovering over your back towards the large couch In the living room. Nodding and dragging your feet you let them guide you, finally sitting and taking a moment to compose yourself. You steal a glance either side of you at your wonderful roommates, only making a larger pit grow in your stomach. You were upset but more than anything worried about their reactions.

With a deep breath in you finally start explaining what happened.

“John and I had a fight again… about the same thing as always him saying i had to be cheating on him with one of you, he even accused me of sleeping with both of you” you scoff softly recalling his vile tone with his accusation. Wordlessly you watch the boys exchange an unreadable glance at one another before they return their eyes to you. “What about this fight made you cry?” Steve questions. You hadn't cried ever after a fight about this with him, only complained. They watched as tears brimmed in your eyes again, Steve's hands were fidgeting in his lap, itching to touch you. He wanted to comfort you but it felt wrong to touch you when talking about you fighting with your boyfriend specially over them. Bucky silently mulling over the information encouraging you to go on with a soft nod, while also trying to refrain from touching you no matter how bad he felt the urge to.

“And he blurted out how he's glad he also cheated on me so that makes us fair..” your tears finally spill over and hit your thighs soaking your jeans a bit as you put your head down, bracing yourself for their reactions mostly Buckys. He was known to be a little hot headed especially when it came to you being hurt. You can feel both men fuming each side of you, Steve suddenly now reaching out and rubbing up and down your thigh. Pushing away his anger at your boyfriend as much as he can, he pushes your face up softly with his fingers so you look at him. “He doesnt deserve you if that's the way he thinks” you could hear the hatred for the man behind Steve's words though he tried to hide it.

“Oh he’s a fuckin’ dead man” Bucky fumes and in a flash is up off the couch, fists balled at his sides ready to wring your boyfriends neck. Lunging forward across Steve's lap to grab Bucky's hand and stop his stampede you pull at him so he looks at you. “No please dont, just stay here with me.. we broke up anyway” your voice comes out soft and a bit wobbly still near the end as it was full of desperation. Though the emotion was mostly for the fact you wanted to just be comforted by them both. You miss the way their eyes light up and glance at each other when the words ‘break up’ register in their heads. When Bucky still hasn't moved though now it's more from shock you turn your head to face Steve. You hadn't realized how close your faces were but give him a pleading look with your eyes asking for his help.

Both of the boys feel as though their hearts are gonna burst out of their chests and they’d be okay with it if they died like this. Your soft hand in Bucky’s pulling him still towards you, fingers slowly intertwining with his rough ones. The warmth from your hand seeping into his usually cold one. Your body draped across Steve's lap and your face inches away from his, your eyes glued to his. The smell of your perfume surrounding him, the scent making his head go foggy.

The blonde shallows thickly before finally finding his voice, “You want us both to stay and comfort you?” He questions and even tests the waters by letting his hand drift to your lower back. You nod in the direction of both of them, watching slowly as Bucky's tense shoulders relax and he turns his body to face you.

Moving slowly as if he were trying not to spook you like a deer, he bends down and softly grabs ahold of your face so you're looking right in his eyes.

“He didn’t fucking deserve you never did, not like we do..” Bucky's anger was still clearly a bit prevalent, he couldn’t believe the asshole would cheat when he had you. He didn’t mean to slip up at the end, yet there was the underlying satisfaction of the fact that you were nearly all theirs now.

You thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest now and Steve was ready to smack his roommate upside the head for letting both their feelings for you come out. “What buck meant to say-” you cut him off in the middle. “Show me what I deserve..” you say with determination while looking into bucky's eyes though it’s aimed equally at both men. They’re both frozen for a moment looking at you in shock, if this was some weird shared wet dream they don't ever wanna wake up. After a grumbled ‘fuck it’ leaving the brunette’s mouth breaks the silence, he surges forward crashing his lips against yours. A squeal leaving your mouth morphs into a soft hum of appreciation. Heat floods your whole body and down your core at the prolonged intense kiss.

You’ve never been kissed with this much love and excitement in your life, it sends your head spinning when you pull away. A smirk blooms on his face as he takes in both yours and Steve's love-struck and frozen expressions. Taking the reins, Bucky softly moves your face over to face your roommate once again and takes one hand off your face to plant on the back of the other man's neck. “How about you give Stevie some lovin’ huh baby?” He directed softly only making your head spin more and giving Steve flashbacks of Buck guiding him on how to please him. You could feel him getting hard under you as your body was still pressed against his lap, the feeling giving you a confidence boost. That coupled with a small nudge from the brunette's hands on the both of you, your lips crash together.

The feeling snapping Steve out of his frozen state as he lets out a choked whine, kissing you felt better than he could've ever imagined and he had multiple nights. Grabbing a hold of your body he lifts you up and onto his lap, only breaking the kiss for a second. His lips return to yours as his hands now finally allowed to roam your body. Running up and down your thighs, pushing up at the bottom of your shirt, rubbing down your back. “We’ll show you just how much you deserve to be appreciated sweetie, gladly” he groans against your lips.

“Please~” you whine into the kiss and lightly grind your hips against his. You hadn't noticed Bucky's hands leaving your body until they returned rubbing at your neck and down your arms as he was moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, your back facing him. His knee slots under you and between the other man's thighs, supporting your body on their legs. His hands help Steve’s along in removing your shirt, kissing down your spine softly. “Wanna mark you up so bad sweets make you ours, shoulda always been ours” Buck mouths against your back and sucks leaving a trail of hickies down your spine as he runs his hands down your thighs and over the blondes wasit.

You pull away from the kiss, your eyes glazing over in lust as you take in Steve's swollen lips and flushed face. “Mark me please, more both of you” you whine out greedily as Bucky grabs onto your chin manipulating your face so your head is turned to face him and kisses you feverishly again. The boys work in perfect tandem and sync to strip you of your pants as well as maneuver around so now you are on your back pressed against the soft suddenly not nearly large enough couch and Steve is nestled between your thighs. Bucky is crouched down by your face and chest next to the couch.

Steve hands have a bruising grip on your hips as he lifts them so your legs are propped up on his muscular thighs. “God he’s such an idiot, how could he cheat when he had all this? Huh? God we wanted you so bad baby you have no idea” he rambles out as his hands worship and rub at your hips and thighs and even down your legs. “Wanted to feel these hips and thighs wrapped around my head so bad, thought about it every night fuck” he groans. “We both thought such dirty things about our pretty little roomate baby” Buck chimes in from beside you.

You were certain your panties were ruined by now, soaked with your slick, your clit throbbing in desperation for even just one of them to give attention to it. Your hips buck up in response to his words and his hands. Bucky’s hands were palming at your tits and rubbing your arms as he marked up your neck and chest. Reaching under you he unclasps your bra, pulling the one strap down to reveal your breast closest to him, he starts to lick and suck on your nipple. “Fantasized about these fuckin’ pretty tits in my face as you’d ride me sweets” he moans agianst your chest as his one hand gropes the neglected tit. “Mmm fuck~” you gasp out in response to their words and when steve bites down on the plush and senstive skin of your inner thigh. You were almost entirely naked and their large heater bodies pressed against your exposed skin fought off any type of breeze in the room. Your body felt on fire, from the two sets of roaming hands and the two desperate mouths marking and exploring your body, worshiping every inch. Whines and moans coming from all three of you filled the apartment.

By now there was hardly any un-bruised skin, hickies littered your chest and back from Bucky, bite marks and hickies covered your stomach and thighs from Steve and you swore you had fingertip sized bruises from their grip on you. They didn't wanna let go, they held onto you the whole time both too afraid that if they did the moment would end. The boys wanted to spend hours like this if you'd let them.

You were theirs now whether you really knew it or not and they were never gonna stop showing you the appreciation you deserve and they were far from done.

→ a/n: happy first day of kinktober my loves!! this one got away from me a bit, not every day will be over 1,000 words but this one was lol. also sorry to any johns i just picked a random name lol. this also was not proofread to well as i rushed to get it up.

[jobean12-blog]

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”  

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[inkedbybarnes]

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[navybrat817]

can we just take a moment to ✨appreciate✨ this? because I know where I’m looking… what about you? 😏

I'm INNOCENT, Lana. And you send me this?!

Wicked Tongue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a wicked tongue. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), reader is thirsty, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a menace, okay?). A/N: I swear, I'm innocent! But something short and sweet for a Sinful Saturday. ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped a finger against the drink you were holding, refusing to take a sip as you watched Bucky laugh at something Steve said. The love of your life was trying to kill you. Not literally, but it certainly felt the way. Why else would he pick a suit that molded to his beefy frame like a glove? What reason did he have to pull his silky long hair back like that?

He already had to fix it once since he decided to shove your dress up and sink to his knees before you left for the party.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.”

As much as you loved Bucky eating you out, he loved it even more. You were certain there wasn’t another man on the planet who enjoyed the taste of pussy as much as he did. You ignored the twinge of jealousy because it wasn’t just any pussy he wanted. It was yours and yours alone.

Hell, if someone told him the sun rose in the east and set in the west, he’d argue that it went up when your legs opened and went down when they closed. Because the entrance to heaven existed between your thighs and it was only fair that he worshiped it with his mouth. You blessed him when you came on his tongue and he lapped up your offering with a groan every single time.

It felt almost as good as when you fell apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” you whispered when he swiped his tongue along his lip again.

Each time his tongue darted out of his mouth was like a personal attack, a jab to your core. You could still feel the indents from his fingers when he gripped your ass, shoving his face as close as he could so he could lick his way into your dripping cunt. The iron-clad grip nearly kept you from rocking your hips down, but it couldn’t stop the hot slick that rushed out of you when you came.

“Make a mess all over my face. Wanna taste you later.”

As if he sensed your stare, his sapphire eyes glanced your way from across the room and you forgot how to breathe. The beautiful bastard stared right at you as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The way he sometimes did with your clit. You didn’t have super soldier strength, but you nearly shattered the glass in your hand from how hard you squeezed it when he winked.

And your panties were wet before, but now they were soaked.

You nodded toward the hall since you couldn’t find your voice. Bucky would help you find it. He’d make sure you moaned his name. Maybe even loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Excuse me, punk,” Bucky said to his best friend before he set his drink down. “In the mood for something a little sweeter.”

Something only you could satisfy his wicked tongue with.

We deserve this, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[veltana]

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 19 | End

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Triggering conversation. Character died.

Words Count: 5,588

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

When life seems perfect, it often hides a test—a calm before the storm. For Steve, months after Peggy’s death, everything felt whole, secure. His presidency was steady, bolstered by approval from the public and respect from allies. Policies were sailing through Congress, his popularity was soaring, and his vision for the country was unfolding exactly as planned.

But something gnawed at him, an intuition sharpened by years in the military. A storm was coming—he could feel it.

“Mr. President,” Natasha’s voice cut through his thoughts as she entered the office with a stack of documents in her arms.

“Yes, Natasha?”

She placed a folder on his desk. “Here’s the speech draft for the press conference announcing your engagement to Miss Hazel,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “If anything… goes south after the announcement.”

Steve took the folder, scanning the first page with a furrowed brow. He plans to introduce Hazel and Nate to the world. The public would need time to adjust to the news, and if the backlash was harsh, he’d be ready with a statement that cast Hazel in a sympathetic light.

“Thank you,” he replied, placing the folder aside.

Just then, the door burst open. An aide stumbled in, looking flushed and frantic. “Mr. President, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this immediately.” He thrust a tablet onto the desk, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed play.

A news anchor appeared on the screen, her voice grim and insistent. “Breaking news on an international scandal that could shake the nation. Our sources have uncovered what they’re calling ‘Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability.’”

The words "Steve Rogers" flashed across the screen, and the anchor continued, "Our investigation has linked these troubling deals directly to the highest office in the land.”

Steve’s face blanched. His name—his reputation—was being dragged through the mud in front of the entire country. Rage flared within him as he looked up, his jaw tight. “Get the Vice President in here. Now.”

A tense silence settled over the room as they waited. Moments later, Bucky entered, his expression carefully controlled, his eyes meeting Steve’s with a flash of concern.

“Close the door,” Steve ordered, his voice low and taut.

As the door clicked shut, Bucky stood before him, the weight of the situation hanging between them like a loaded gun. Steve’s hand curled into a fist, his voice barely a whisper but laced with fury. “Did you know about this?”

Bucky looked down, drawing a steadying breath, then met Steve’s piercing gaze. “I knew her was digging into things after her friend died, but… I didn’t know it would go this far.” He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t realize how deep she’d go—or how reckless she’d become.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, a vein throbbing in his temple. “So you’re telling me you had no idea?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bucky admitted, his voice weighted with regret. “And I’m sorry, Steve. I’ll make this right. If you need a name to take the fall… blame me. I’ll shoulder this.”

Steve looked at him, surprised. Here was his Vice President—his friend—willing to sacrifice himself to protect him. It would be so easy to accept the offer, to let Bucky take the brunt of the fallout. It would keep Steve’s image intact, and Bucky could be quietly replaced.

But the advantage of having Bucky loyal by his side was too great. “No,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “This wasn’t your doing. And I need you here, not buried under this scandal.”

Bucky stepped forward, his gaze steady. “It’s alright, Steve. I haven’t done much lately as Vice President anyway. Let me take this on. We’re a team, aren’t we? Your problems are mine.”

Steve paused, looking at him, his anger tempered by the loyalty in Bucky’s eyes. “You’d take this for me?”

“Without hesitation,” Bucky replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Steve exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He extended a hand, and Bucky took it, their grips strong, but their shared look even stronger. Then, in a rare moment of mutual trust, Steve pulled him into a fierce, brotherly embrace.

“Thank you, Bucky,” he murmured, his voice softened with unspoken gratitude.

As they pulled back, Bucky’s expression was resolute. “Whatever’s coming,” he said, his voice low, “we’re facing it together.”

Steve nodded, his mind racing with strategy and resolve. The scandal might be a blow, but with Bucky at his side, he felt fortified, ready to weather the storm—no matter how dark it threatened to become.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

With Bucky's promise still fresh in the air, Steve watched as his vice president worked hard to keep issues from flaring up. Bucky stood tall, his confidence showing as he spoke to reporters and citizens, assuring them that their concerns were being handled. But underneath, Steve could sense the tension in Bucky—his jaw tightened, and worry flickered in his eyes whenever new problems popped up.

Each time one issue seemed to fade, another arose, and it always seemed to lead back to you.

As Steve stood in the Oval Office, the weight of the scandals crashing down around him felt almost suffocating. Illegal domestic surveillance, military manipulation, a nuclear program scandal, and Stark Industries' data misuse—all of it traced back to you. The walls felt like they were closing in as he realized you were the mastermind behind this revelation. Even Bucky was oblivious to the full extent of the details.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rising tide of anger and betrayal, and faced you across the room. The tension hung heavy in the air, electric and dangerous. “When will you stop?” he demanded, his voice low and filled with barely restrained fury. “This is not only hurting me but also Bucky.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, your own anger simmering just below the surface. “Come and kill me, you crazy sociopath,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

Steve took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you keep doing this, you’ll ruin the future of Nate’s life,” he warned, his tone now tinged with a desperate edge.

“I knew you have a soft spot for him. And I appreciate it,” he sneered. “But imagine him being branded with the image of being the illegitimate child, with his father as the most evil president in history.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Or you could choose this one: he’ll find out who I really am. Instead of shame, he’ll be proud to be the son of the president.”

“You fucking psycho,” you spat, taking a step back, putting space between you and the weight of your shared history. “Using your own son as your shield.”

Steve shook his head, disbelief mingling with a simmering rage. “You hate me because I killed your friend. Sure, I understand that. But if he were still alive, your husband and I probably couldn’t win the election.”

As the two of you locked eyes, the atmosphere crackled with tension—a brutal dance of hurt and anger, intertwined with a strange sense of familiarity. Steve’s breath quickened, the realization dawning on him that the battle wasn’t just external; it was deeply personal, and it threatened to consume them both.

“Everything is about paying back. Everyone in here knows everyone’s secrets.” Steve's voice was cold, his jaw clenched tightly as he glared at you, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, as if holding back the urge to lash out.

"I hate people like you—the idealistic type," Steve said, his voice low and simmering with frustration. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto yours, the tension in the air palpable. "If you get rid of me, there will only be another just like me."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After talking to Steve, you returned home, your heart still racing with the weight of the conversation. As you stepped through the door, you saw Bucky waiting for you, his expression unreadable. The moment you locked eyes, tension filled the room.

"You’re just a puppet for Steve," you spat, your voice dripping with disdain. "I’m so ashamed of you."

Bucky's face hardened, his jaw clenched tightly as he stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t understand anything! I’m doing what I have to do," he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

“Doing what you have to do?” you scoffed, your hands trembling with anger. “You’re covering up Ian’s death! You’re a coward for letting this happen!” Your words hung heavy in the air, each accusation striking a nerve as you paced back and forth, unable to contain your rage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger. “You think it’s that simple? It’s not just about me! I have to protect what’s left of this place, even if it means making sacrifices!” He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the way his fingers curled into his scalp.

You shook your head, refusing to back down. “Sacrifices? You mean sacrificing your integrity? You’ve lost yourself to this game, Bucky! I can’t believe you let Steve manipulate you like this.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, your heated argument was being overheard. Natasha listened intently from the hidden bug that had been planted in the room, her brow furrowed with concern as she glanced at Steve. “Both of them are fighting. Bucky sounds surprised,” she informed him, her tone serious.

Steve leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk forming on his lips. “Good,” he replied, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He relished the chaos unfolding, knowing that conflict could lead to clarity, both for Bucky and for you. The storm brewing between you two was exactly what he needed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Even though there was turmoil at home, everything had to keep going. Bucky had to accompany Steve to attend the parade. The parade was a vibrant spectacle, a sea of red, white, and blue, with flags fluttering in the crisp air. Cheerful crowds lined the streets, waving banners and chanting the names of their leaders, their excitement palpable.

"Mr. President! Mr. President!" they roared, their voices a chorus of admiration for Steve Rogers, who stood tall and confident, a smile breaking across his face as he waved back. The warmth of the people's adoration radiated around him, but as the crowd's energy surged, the atmosphere felt electric, almost frenetic.

Beside him, Bucky Barnes maintained a more stoic demeanor. Though he wore the badge of Vice President, the cheers seemed to pass over him, fewer and far between. He appreciated the excitement but felt a twinge of disappointment that the cheers weren't for him. He turned to Steve, his brow furrowing slightly, and remarked dryly, "You know, I thought they would be a bit more enthusiastic about me."

Steve had brought Bucky here to entertain him because he knew about the problems between Bucky and you. You're wild and couldn't be tamed.

Steve chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, "Put a leash on your wife, or she'll embarrass this country." His laughter rang out, mingling with the cheers of the crowd, but Bucky's gaze drifted past him, scanning the parade route.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, a hint of agreement in his voice, but his eyes were still fixed on the crowd. There was a tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

Steve turned to Bucky, his brow slightly furrowed with concern. "How is she?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Bucky crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched as he replied, "I told her to be quieter."

“Good,” Steve said, his expression softening a bit. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I’m planning to have Hazel by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. "What?" he exclaimed, his posture tensing as he processed the implications of Steve’s words.

"I knew you’d know," Steve said, a hint of regret creeping into his tone. He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "And I’m sorry. But I promise you, I will give Hazel and Nate the best future."

Bucky fell silent, the weight of Steve’s promise hanging in the air between them. He looked away for a moment, his thoughts racing, before finally nodding, a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance etched on his face.

Steve smiled, relief washing over him as he saw Bucky's reaction. There was a sense of camaraderie in the moment, a silent understanding forged in the midst of tension. But as Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, hinting at the underlying conflict that still simmered just beneath the surface.

"I'm so glad to have you as my partner," Steve continued, sincerity evident in his tone. "May we work together until we die."

"Until we die," Bucky murmured, his voice almost lost in the surrounding commotion.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise, calling out, "Barnes!" A hand waved from the throng, the first time anyone had shouted his name that day. Bucky glanced at the person but didn’t respond with a wave like Steve did. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, a flicker of acknowledgment that felt more calculated than celebratory.

In that instant, chaos erupted. "KYAAA!!!"

A sharp crack rang out, slicing through the jubilant atmosphere. Bucky staggered as if struck by a physical blow, his eyes widening in shock.

The cheers turned into gasps of disbelief, and screams erupted as the crowd reacted in panic, some dropping to the ground, others frantically searching for cover. The Secret Service sprang into action, "Protect the Vice-President!", a wall of suits forming around Bucky as people pushed back in terror, the once-cheerful parade transformed into a scene of horror.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, rushing forward, his heart pounding as he reached his partner's side. The world around him blurred, and all he could focus on was Bucky, crumpling to the ground.

Everyone was shouting, the air thick with fear and confusion, but all Steve heard was the ragged sound of his own breathing and the desperate cry of his friend. "Bucky!" he repeated, urgency lacing his tone.

Bucky's breath came in ragged gasps, his body sprawled on the pavement. The color drained from his face as he struggled to lift his hand, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through his fingers. With a surge of effort, he grasped Steve's arm, pulling him closer, anchoring himself to his partner even as the life slipped away from him. "All hail the President," he managed, his voice weak but resolute.

Steve's expression shifted from shock to horror, his body taut with the weight of impending dread. Bucky's grip tightened, holding him in place as if preventing him from moving, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both. "Bucky, stay with me," he urged, desperation lacing his tone.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, seeing the fear reflected there. A strange calm washed over him as he whispered, "As Nate's father, this is my gift for you."

Then, without warning, a searing pain tore through Steve’s chest, a sharp shot of agony that rooted him to the spot. The world blurred around him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening, realizing in that instant that he was the true target.

Steve felt the impact before he could process the meaning behind Bucky’s words. The world around them seemed to slow as the realization of betrayal hit him. He caught a glimpse of Bucky's fading form, and in that moment, a twisted smirk crept across his lips. "Well played," he murmured, before the darkness consumed him, and he dropped to the ground.

Bucky’s grip slackened, the warmth of his hand slipping away. Bucky’s body went limp, and as everything turned dark around him, Steve felt his own strength faltering.

That day, which was meant to be a celebration, turned into a day of mourning. Two main leaders of the country were injured, and no one knew who was behind the attack. With the most important figures in the nation harmed, it felt like an embarrassment for a country that prided itself on its strength.

Both parties in the government reached a silent agreement to keep the situation under wraps and portray Steve as a hero.

The news headlines that would follow would echo through history: “The President Dies Protecting the Vice President.” It would be a legacy of sacrifice, a testament to their bond. Steve Rogers would forever be remembered as the only president who lost his life protecting another, a tragedy that would resonate for generations.

Everyone would remember him as a good symbol, sacrificing himself for someone, without recalling the darker aspects of his actions. This was the last gift Bucky gave to him.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

2 days later

Bucky's eyes fluttered open, the sterile brightness of the hospital room piercing through the haze of his coma. As his surroundings came into focus, the first thing he saw was you, your face streaked with tears, a mixture of relief and anger etched across your features.

You rushed to his side, gripping his arm tightly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You idiot! What kind of plan was that? Risking your life?"

Bucky's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, his voice hoarse but steady. "Didn't I tell you? I will accept it if you hurt me."

Both of you pretended to fight to keep Steve from suspecting anything. He knew how much Bucky loved you, and with the two of you constantly bickering, he wouldn't notice that someone else had hired an assassin.

It was Caroline. She was the one who hired the sniper to take Steve's life. Don’t mess with a mother—or a woman like her.

Bucky getting shot first was all part of the plan. Caroline’s intention was to take out Steve, but Bucky warned her that he would also become a suspect if that happened.

Instead, he proposed that he get hurt first, diverting everyone’s attention to him, allowing Steve to be vulnerable next.

It was a risky plan—an idiotic one, really. But Bucky insisted, determined to see it through despite the danger that loomed over them all.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, a blend of frustration and relief washing over you. You leaned against his chest, resting your head there, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. In that moment, everything else faded away—the anger, the fear—and all that mattered was that he was alive.

Risking his life was necessary to make his plan work. He didn't want the past six years of his efforts to go to waste.

The past six years had been exhausting for Bucky Barnes. He had immersed himself in the treacherous waters of politics, drawn in by the intoxicating taste of power that left a lingering sweetness on his tongue.

He quickly realized that understanding the law was not merely a tool; it was a weapon. Knowledge of loopholes became his advantage, a means to navigate the convoluted game of governance. But knowing the rules wasn’t enough; he needed to be ruthless. That was where Steve Rogers came into the picture—his mentor, a family friend for years, whose facade of integrity masked a far more sinister reality.

In Bucky’s eyes, Steve had always been perfect, a paragon of virtue. But as time wore on, the veneer began to crack, revealing the monstrous truth lurking beneath.

Steve was a predator cloaked in a hero’s guise. His charming smile belied a voracious greed that left a bloody trail in its wake. It was a shock to discover that Steve had been having an affair with Hazel, and now he was the father of Nate, the child whose very existence felt like a dagger to Bucky’s heart.

This betrayal was too much to bear. Bucky’s hatred for the man he once idolized simmered just below the surface, boiling over as he considered how to dismantle the carefully constructed empire Steve had built. Bucky knew the rules; he understood the political landscape better than most. But how could he bring down someone so deeply entrenched in the system?

Despite all his advantages, Steve believed he was the master of this game. No, he wasn’t. Bucky’s confidence swelled as he acknowledged that Steve’s skills—his war experience, his tactical mind—would ultimately falter against the true currency of politics. In this brutal arena, the real gold was connections and money. Behind every politician lurked unseen puppet masters pulling the strings, and Steve was no exception.

Bucky knew that while Steve had forged connections, he lacked the pedigree that defined the upper echelons of power. Steve had been a nobody until Peggy Carter had invited him into their circle, and that was when they made a monumental mistake—choosing Steve. He might have had his allies, but he would never be blue blood like Bucky and Peggy.

Then there was Peggy. The last straw. Bucky’s heart twisted as he recalled the circumstances of her death. He was all too aware that it had been Steve's machinations that had ultimately led to her demise. Bucky had witnessed the toll it took on her, the way she had struggled under the weight of her decisions, her life unraveling in the shadow of Steve's ambition. Bucky’s hands tightened into fists at the memory.

Caroline had been the voice of caution, her words echoing in his mind: “This is why you never bite the hand that feeds you.”

She may not have been a good mother, but she had been a loyal friend to Peggy, always protecting her interests, ensuring that her secrets remained buried. Bucky could see how easily Caroline could hire an assassin, how she moved through the shadows like a whisper, orchestrating the chaos without ever getting her hands dirty.

He never thought you and Caroline would join forces to rid the world of Steve. With each passing day, Bucky felt the walls closing in, the weight of the decisions he had to make pressing down on him like a vice. Steve would fall; it was only a matter of time.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky stood in the Oval Office, a resolute figure beside the iconic Resolute Desk, a Bible open in front of him. The room was thick with anticipation, everyone watching him intently as he prepared to deliver his vow. His posture was firm, shoulders squared, as he looked around at the faces of his colleagues and allies, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He glanced at the words on the page, drawing strength from their meaning as he readied himself to speak.

With a steady voice, he began, "I stand before you today, not just as your president, but as a servant of the people. I vow to uphold the Constitution, to protect the rights of every citizen, and to work tirelessly for the betterment of our nation. Together, we will fight against corruption and ensure that government truly serves the people. I promise to lead with integrity, to listen to your voices, and to bring about the change we so desperately need."

You stood behind him, pride swelling in your chest as you witnessed Bucky fulfill his promise to become president.

Behind you sat Caroline and Julius, the latter in his wheelchair, their expressions a mix of hope and admiration. Bucky’s oldest brother, Shawn, had called to congratulate him, his voice brimming with encouragement. Your brother Tim stood nearby, a smile on his face, reflecting the joy that filled the room. At the back, Hazel lingered, her posture tense and withdrawn, reluctant to stand close to her family.

As the applause began and everyone congratulated Bucky and you, Natasha approached Hazel, who stood near the corner as if she wanted to hide.

Perhaps she was too embarrassed to be there. Before, she had come to the White House as Steve's mistress, and everyone knew who she was but kept their mouths shut. This time, she was here only as Bucky's sister. “I have something for you,” Natasha said, extending an envelope toward her.

Hazel hesitated, her brows furrowing in confusion. “For me?” she asked, glancing from the letter to Natasha, unsure of what to expect.

Natasha nodded, a subtle smile breaking through her serious exterior. “Yes, it’s from Steve.” With that, she stepped back to take her position.

Hazel’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the letter, the weight of it heavy in her hand. As she opened it, memories flooded back, and she felt a rush of emotions. It was a final message from Steve, words that resonated with her deeply.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Hazel read the heartfelt letter, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hazel,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m probably no longer living. And that's okay; I've come to accept it. The world I’ve inhabited has been fraught with danger, and I’ve made choices that have led me here.

Hazel, from the moment I met you, it felt like looking into a mirror—a reflection of my own heart and soul. You brought warmth and light into my life, even when I was lost in darkness. Your strength has always amazed me, and I want you to carry that with you as you move forward.

Live the life you’ve always wanted. I’ve made arrangements for you and Nate, ensuring you both have the financial support you need to thrive.

Please, for our Nate, support him and listen to him. He will need you more than ever now, and I have every confidence in your ability to guide him.

If there is a next life, I hope we never meet again. You deserve someone better than me. Now that I’m gone, please try to forget me and the mistakes I made. I genuinely wish you and Nate nothing but the best.

Steve Rogers

P.S. Don’t worry about the twins. They’ve been independent since they were young and have the Carters to guide them. They’ll be okay."

Tears fell onto the letter as Hazel finished reading it.

“Mom?” Nate's small voice broke through her moment of grief.

Hazel looked down at her son, the last legacy of Steve, and quickly wiped her tears away. “Do you want to visit Uncle Steve?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Nate nodded enthusiastically, his bright eyes shining with admiration. “Yes! He’s a hero for saving Uncle Bucky!”

Hazel flinched at the mention of Bucky, but she forced a smile, wanting to be strong for her son. She knelt down to his level and took his small hands in hers, feeling the warmth of his tiny fingers. With her other hand, she clutched the letter written by Steve, a reminder of his love and hopes for her.

Together, they held hands as they walked, Hazel’s heart swelling with determination. Just as Steve had wished, she would live life to the fullest and be a great mother to Nate.

After Hazel and Nate left, Natasha approached Bucky with a serious expression. “Both of them have left,” she informed him.

Bucky turned to her, his demeanor cool and composed, devoid of any trace of warmth. “She read the letter?” he asked, his voice steady and flat.

“Yes,” Natasha replied, nodding her head.

“Did she believe it?” Bucky pressed, his gaze sharp and focused.

“I hired a professional to copy Steve's signature, and I added a bit of his perfume to the paper,” Natasha explained, her tone measured and confident.

“Good.” Bucky’s expression remained impassive, his eyes betraying no emotion. He had written the letter himself, crafting it to sound like it came from Steve. His intention was clear: he wanted Hazel to move on from Steve, to find a new path without the shadows of the past weighing her down. This was necessary for her future, and he understood the sacrifices it took to ensure that.

“Good job.” Bucky looked at Natasha again, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

It was a curious alliance—how could a loyal supporter of Steve choose to work with Bucky? The answer lay in humanity. Natasha had pledged her loyalty to Steve because he saved her from the chaos of war when she had no one to turn to. In her eyes, he was a hero, and she had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to his misdeeds, including the affair with Hazel.

But everything changed when she witnessed the heartlessness Steve displayed toward Peggy. The righteous man she once admired had morphed into a monster, and her faith in him shattered. With Steve’s death, Natasha reevaluated her principles and decided to align herself with Bucky.

Bucky brought her on board because he recognized her skills and capabilities. He needed people like Natasha—sharp, resourceful, and fiercely dedicated. But he also understood the value of loyalty and did not intend to take it for granted. Their partnership was strategic, grounded in the shared goal of reshaping the political landscape, and Bucky was determined to build a team that could challenge the corruption that had long plagued their world.

“Have you got everything you need?” your voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied, a smile breaking through his usual stoicism as he took your hand in his.

As you both walked through the grand halls of the White House, the sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the polished floors. Bucky’s grip on your hand was firm, steady, a reassuring anchor in the midst of the political storm surrounding him.

Bucky had his share of greed, but he loathed those who didn’t know their limits. Among those were his so-called friends, Edgar and Brock. Together with Steve, they formed a trio of self-serving opportunists, always proclaiming their actions were “for the people” while their true motivations were purely selfish—“for me, me, and me.”

What set Bucky apart from Steve, Edgar, and Brock was his ambition to dismantle the very system they thrived in. He wanted to rid politics of corrupt individuals like them, who masqueraded their greed as altruism. Bucky had seen too much of the damage they had inflicted on the community, and he was determined to be the catalyst for change. He refused to become like them.

To clean up the government, he knew he had to start with this corrupt trio. It was a slow and grueling process, requiring patience and strategy, but Bucky was committed to the fight. He would work behind the scenes, gathering evidence, building alliances, and slowly dismantling their influence. It was exhausting, but he was relentless.

His ultimate goal extended beyond simply removing them from power. He envisioned a government rebuilt on integrity, one that truly served the interests of the people rather than the egos of a few. The road ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was willing to face them head-on. Every step he took toward exposing the trio brought him closer to realizing his vision of a more just and equitable political landscape.

As Bucky navigated the murky waters of politics, he felt the weight of his mission pressing down on him. He was no longer just a pawn in the game; he was a player with a purpose. This time, he wouldn’t be silenced. He was determined to take the fight to them, fueled by a deep resolve to expose their hypocrisy and restore honor to a system long tainted by greed.

But alongside you, he realized something important: for an imperfect couple, you both made a perfect team. As you walked together, side by side, it felt like you were crossing a finish line, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Each step was a testament to your shared commitment—a bond forged in trust and understanding, built on the ashes of past mistakes.

You glanced up at him, and in that moment, you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that ignited whenever he believed in something. Together, you were more than just individuals; you were partners united in a common cause, ready to fight for a better future. In the complicated world of power and betrayal, your partnership was a beacon of hope, lighting the way toward justice and change.

-The End-

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who followed this series until the end. This story has its flaws, but I truly appreciate your support and dedication. It was incredibly difficult for me to wrap up this journey and say goodbye to Bucky and his fierce ex-wife. Writing a tale that intertwines politics with romance has been both a challenging and rewarding experience. I've learned so much about character development and the complexities of relationships, and I'm grateful to have shared this journey with all of you. Your feedback and encouragement have meant the world to me.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

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[pellucid-constellations]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

[witchywithwhiskey]

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them. 

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you. 

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you. 

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear. 

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month. 

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think. 

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored. 

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough. 

But he didn’t. 

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.” 

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms. 

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.” 

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you. 

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter. 

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face. 

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck. 

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound. 

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much. 

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body. 

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves. 

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.” 

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed. 

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core. 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center. 

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.” 

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking. 

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. 

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing. 

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game. 

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. 

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.” 

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone. 

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it. 

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free. 

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious? 

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already. 

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well. 

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on. 

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you. 

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted. 

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?” 

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear. 

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body. 

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth. 

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure. 

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.  

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.” 

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in. 

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible. 

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?” 

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.” 

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release. 

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did. 

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.” 

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said. 

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body. 

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.” 

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest. 

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket. 

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.” 

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you. 

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory. 

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss. 

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice. 

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed. 

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs. 

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.” 

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment. 

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours. 

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you. 

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would. 

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say. 

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[marvelouslizzie]

You're My Desire - Co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, first date, public sex, ripped clothing, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: We really don't have an excuse for this one. We just wanted 40s Bucky to have a good time, you know? This is basically smut with little bit of plot.

Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's also a Bucky Barnes writer and her stories are amazing.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it's hate. That's never welcome.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Even though you really didn’t want to, you find yourself on a double date with your best friend. She literally begged you to come because she promised she would bring someone for her date’s best friend and apparently she really doesn’t wanna disappoint the handsome soldier.

You're shocked, though, when you arrive at the fair and see Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the flesh waiting for you two at the gate.

You were pretty sure she brought you here for Bucky Barnes but it turns out your date is actually Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself.

You don't know what to do at first, awkwardly watching your friend hugging Bucky as if they knew each other for ages. Even though they met just a day ago. Steve extends his hand politely, which you immediately shake.

It doesn’t take long for you to go inside the fun fair together while chatting casually. Your friend, Cassie, starts asking questions about the war. She loves front-line stories, but Bucky doesn’t seem like he enjoys telling them.

Steve, on the other hand, is very excited to do it, answering all of Cassie's questions as you quietly watch them. You wonder why you said yes to this date. You've never been into soldiers and even less into war discussions. But you love your friend very much even when she ignores you.

You find yourself looking at Bucky while Cassie and Steve start to chat and exchange stories. He kinda seems amused by this development. You shrug looking in his direction, waiting for him to say something. After all, you are both already bored and your friends don't even seem to care or notice you anymore in the first place.

Bucky just smiles and then tries to change the subject. You think he actually handles that topic change pretty smoothly and it sticks for a while until Cassie gets bored of talking about books.

You remark Bucky's sad face, but you don't say anything. Instead, you subtly start to walk slower, hoping he'll do the same. As Cassie keeps talking to Steve, Bucky notices you are getting behind and just slows down a little.

"You're okay? Are your legs hurting?" Bucky asks concerned while looking at her shoes.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just got tired of the war stories, that’s all.” You keep walking slowly.

"Me, too." He sighs. "It's a never-ending subject at this point."

“Well, where there's life there's hope.” You quote the Hobbit instinctively. You hold on to the hope, one day you won’t have to talk about this war.

Bucky gasps, looking at you in a way you never experienced before. "What did you say?"

“I just said where there's life there's hope.” You repeat, surprised by the way he probably recognized the quote. People usually have no idea what you are referring to. Not him though.

"You're a fan? Oh god!"

That starts your actual conversation with Bucky Barnes. It turns out he’s a big bookworm himself. He reads as much as he can, always buying more books that he manages to read.

You didn't even realize how close you are until your shoulders slightly brush. You blush when he smiles, clearly not minding. Still, you feel very conscious about your closeness and quickly look toward your friend, feeling guilty that you are enjoying the company of her date, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit. On the contrary, she’s actually holding Steve Rogers’ arm while talking and laughing.

"You're very beautiful." You hear Bucky murmur shily.

His compliment catches you off guard. You were about to apologize on behalf of Cassie. Yet you find yourself blushing.

"And you love reading. I am a lucky man. I get to talk to you."

“I could say the same thing myself, Sergeant. I much rather talk about books instead of the war.”

"Then you got the right company." Bucky smiles and looks around. "Should we get some ice cream?"

“That would be amazing.” And that’s how you end up separated from Cassie and Steve. Bucky informs them about their plan and then leaves without waiting for them.

You spend the next hour talking and walking around the entire fair. James even won a teddy bear for you. Once in a while both of you act like you wanna find Steve and Cassie, but you definitely don’t care.

"I don't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and good with someone."

“I’m glad I’m not boring the shit out of you.” You know it’s not ladylike to speak this way, but you feel comfortable around him. It’s crazy when you consider you just met him maybe two hours ago.

Bucky smiles. "I can say the same. Steve says I'm quite boring."

“He’s quite boring himself.”

"Is he?" He snorts.

“Yeah. Who knew Captain America would be into war stories?”

"Doesn't the name say it?" He continues in the same joking tone.

“The name suggests he’s heroic and boring but he’s more boring and less heroic than expected. Stealing his best friend's date doesn’t scream honorable to me.”

Bucky is shocked to see her indirectly standing up for him. "Maybe I stole his date, though."

“His date was uninterested from the start and just being nice to her best friend.”

"Is she still uninterested?"

“In him? Yes.” You act like you don’t understand what he is actually asking.

"Well, the feelings are mutual. About the date and now…"

“You were uninterested in Cassie?” You say it in a way that shows you don’t believe him.

"Wasn't it obvious?"

“Nope.” It definitely wasn’t when they hugged each other the moment they arrived.

"I was trying to be polite. She insisted on this… meeting because I helped her out. I was relieved I could bring Steve."

“She sounded very interested in you until Captain Rogers started with war stories.”

"She was staring at his… back ever since we arrived."

You burst out laughing and he joins you right after. It sets the tone for the rest of the night and makes you notice you both don’t give a shit.

*

"I want to show you something," you say after a few seconds and quickly drag him after you until you reach a darker alley close to the last attraction. You drop the teddy bear carefully at your feet. "Hi."

“Hi.” He still seems a bit confused, but it’s so cute. He looks at the teddy bear and then his eyes turn back to your face. You can’t help but smile.

"You're so cute. Has anyone told you that?" You smile in return.

He acts like thinking for a second. “No, not really. Just cute?” He fishes for more.

"And smart." You touch his chest shily. "And kind."

“Hmm, those are not what people notice first.” He moves a little bit closer. “You have something…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, his thumb brushes the corner of your lips. You wait for him to wipe off whatever you had on your face before opening your mouth and letting your tongue touch his finger shamelessly.

You watch Bucky’s eyes widen out of surprise. He didn't expect that at all. You grab his hand, bringing his finger inside your mouth, and notice how his breathing quickens. Yet he doesn’t stop you.

You let your tongue play for a few seconds until you let his finger go with a small bite. He lets out the lowest moan but not only do you hear it, but you also love it.

"Wow, I…" He doesn't know what to say, all red and excited.

“You what? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excited? I mean, I can stop if you want.”

In response, brave and happy, Bucky kisses you. His tongue is already on your bottom lip asking for permission, which you grant by opening your mouth without realizing it.

The kiss isn’t shy like you expected, and he definitely knows how to kiss. The way his lips and tongue move makes you want more, right then and there.

Your hands go to his neck as you let yourself enjoy the kiss even more. You keep kissing until you feel breathless. When Bucky breaks it, he doesn’t move away. His forehead touches yours as you try to catch your breath.

"This was…"

“I wanna do something if that’s okay…” You say while suddenly getting on your knees. You are wearing your favorite nylon stockings and you're sure they are gonna get ripped, but you don't care.

Bucky thinks he's daydreaming because how can this happen? How?

"What? What are you doing?"

“I think you know what I am doing, Sergeant. Just tell me to stop if you don’t want it, okay?” Your hands move to his belt but you wait for a reaction first.

"Stop. That's not… you don't have to do this. We are having a great time anyway."

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Is that okay for you?”

He can only nod, totally shocked and excited at the same time.

You unbuckle him slowly. Even though you are in a public place, you're in no hurry. You unzip him while looking into his eyes. When you finally take him out of his pants, he seems speechless. He’s already hard, but as soon as you start to move your hand, he gets rock hard after maybe four pumps.

"Jesus, you're so pretty. You look like a doll on your knees."

You smile proudly. “Tell me what I look like when I do this,” you say before taking him inside your mouth.

He closes his eyes, groaning. Your mouth is so wet and warm. You take it slow at first. Your mouth moves gently while you swirl your tongue around the head.

"Please." You hear him whisper, his left hand resting against the wall behind him.

You move your mouth away from him just to ask “Please what?” Your lipstick is already a little smudged.

"Oh god, keep going. Please, you're such a pretty sight."

“Tell me how I look when you're inside my mouth and I'll continue, promise.” You wink and remind him he still hasn’t fulfilled your request.

"Like a dream. Like a goddess."

“Hmm…” You go back to taking him inside your mouth without making another comment. This time, you move a bit faster than before and start using your hand.

"Your mouth will be the death of me."

That makes you smile but you don’t stop, moving your hand and mouth at the same time, hoping for a good reaction. His hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it enough to pull a little. That encourages you to go faster, in need for a tighter grip. And you get it: soon, he wraps more of your hair around his whole fist, moaning your name.

“I think I'm gonna…” He sounds so breathy. “You should pull away.”

You look at him, acknowledging his warning, but showing him you are ignoring it. You keep moving fast, making sure your tongue flicks around the right spot every time until he spills inside your mouth. It’s a lot more than you are used to, but you still keep going until he completely empties himself. You take your mouth off, looking into his eyes before swallowing.

"No." He covers his eyes while groaning. "You can't do this to me, doll. Jesus…"

“Do what?” You innocently ask.

He doesn't answer you, taking you by the back of the neck and kissing you sloppily. You don’t get a chance to warn him about the taste and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He groans into your mouth when he feels your hands on his ass and breaks the kiss just to suck on your neck.

Then you feel his hands between your bodies, trying to pull up his pants again.

You break the kiss to ask: “What are you doing?”

"I'm putting on my pants," he sounds like a kid. "And I wanna get on my knees for you, too."

“Maybe I want something else that doesn’t require you to put your pants on.”

He nods, without understanding what you mean. "Alright. I'll just-" He drops his right hand until it reaches her skirt. "Is it okay?" You nod with a smile. Even though it’s not what you meant, it’s fine.

His fingers immediately go to your underwear and push it aside.

"Fuck me. Look at that." You are really wet and his curses don't help either. "Soaked. Is that for me, doll?"

“No, it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me.” You joke.

You feel his fingers stopping on your slit as he lifts his head. "What did you say?"

“I said it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me. You know that gets the girls wet.” You hope he won’t be offended by this. It’s just a silly joke.

In response, Bucky pushes a finger inside you quickly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Should I start talking about war, too? Bet that would get you even wetter."

You let out a deep breath, relieved. Thank God he isn’t offended. “That would get me dry as a desert, Sergeant Barnes.”

"Should I dye my hair then?" He snorts, moving his finger faster.

“Maybe you should get a shield. It would definitely look better on you.”

"A shield, huh?" Bucky adds another finger, trying to scissor them inside you a couple of times. "Is it too much?"

“Nope,” you say after a moan. “It’s not enough.”

"Fuck, you…" he closes his eyes. "You want another?"

“I want something else.” You smile, hoping him to understand this time.

"Yeah? Like what?"

You grab his cock and gently rub it without saying a word. You are not surprised he’s hard because his erection has been pressed on your leg for a while.

"Fuck. You want my cock, baby?"

“Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t let you pull your pants back up?”

"I don't-" He moans. "I didn't think."

“Come on. You are making me wait while I’m soaking your fingers.”

"Wanna make you…" Bucky interrupts himself by adding a third finger, his other hand going to your clit. "Happy."

“Fuck.” You throw your head back, that felt so good.

"You like this?" He rubs a little more, paying attention to your body. His fingers inside you keep the same pace, though. He isn't slowing down now even if it's the end of the world.

“Yeah, that.” You breathe out. You already feel your legs shaking and you're afraid your knees might give out, but it feels so good, you can’t seem to focus on the concerns.

"Hold on to me."

You put your hands on his shoulders and it helps you relax a bit more. After that, your orgasm comes crashing in like a big wave that leaves you breathless. He doesn't stop moving his fingers until you finish coming, then he slowly pulls them out, making sure to lick them before kissing you.

“You are such a dirty soldier, Sergeant Barnes,” you say with a smile.

"What is dirty about this?" He shrugs. "I'm a good soldier, of course."

“Doing this in a dark alley with me and licking your fingers clean like that. Very good soldier, indeed.”

"Ihm." He buries his head right onto your shoulder and breathes in. "Thank you."

“For what?” You find yourself kissing his hair while asking the question.

"For this evening and this. Thank you for trusting me."

“You are something else, Bucky,” you say while caressing his hair.

"Hmm?"

You kiss his hair and his ear, then move your lips to his neck. “You can thank me later. We are not done yet.”

"Changed your mind?" He smiles. "Want me on my knees after all?

“Maybe later.” You wink. “Now don’t act like you don’t know what I want because I know you want it, too.”

He freezes. "Wait, you're serious?"

“Of course I am serious. Just don’t finish inside, okay?”

He looks at you again all serious. "Are you sure? We don't have to, I can use my tongue."

“Don’t worry, it’s not my first time and yeah, I’m sure unless you don’t want to.”

Bucky looks at you with puppy eyes. "Uhm, it's my first time."

“Oh god.” Your eyes widen. “I… didn’t consider… that possibility. I’m sorry.”

Bucky starts laughing at your worried expression and kisses your cheek. "My first time with a bookworm doll."

You punch his shoulder. “You worried me!”

That makes him laugh even harder, and you can't help but smile. Because he's extra beautiful like this.

"Why? Do you have something against innocent boys, ma'am? Shame!"

“No, nothing against it. Absolutely would love to teach and corrupt but wouldn’t want that to be your first time.”

"You don't want to take advantage of me, huh? Such a good girl." He surprises you by suddenly lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his torso.

“Would you like me to take advantage of you?” You kiss his jaw and cheeks.

"Fuck, yes. Yes."

“Then you have my permission to take advantage of me, too.”

He doesn't ask you again if you're sure. Instead, he lifts his right hand to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it as fast as he can. He's so impatient he even manages to rip a button. You just watch him work and smile, hoping the gentleman side of Bucky finally stops holding him back.

He groans at the sight of your hard nipples and quickly leans in to take one in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper while he uses his tongue to play with your nipple. It feels so good you don't even notice when his hand drops under your skirt. Until you hear the ripping sound.

“What the fuck?” You can’t believe he's just ripped your nylon stockings. They are so hard to find and so expensive!

"Whha?" He doesn't even take his mouth off your nipple as he speaks.

“Do you know how expensive those stockings are?” Your surprise is so clear in your voice. “You owe me a pair of nylon stockings, Sargeant.”

"They were in the way, baby."

“Getting impatient?” You mock a little.

He pushes his hips a little more. "Can't you feel?"

“You still owe me a pair.”

"What about these?" His hands are now on her panties. "How many do I need to buy you so I can rip these off?"

“Just one pair, but if you wanna rip that one, too, this cycle might never end.”

He sighs, contemplating, but he finally decides not to, only pushing your underwear aside. "How do you want it?"

“What do you mean?”

Bucky takes another step until your back barely brushes against the wall. "How do you like this? The sex."

“Don’t try to act all kind and push aside what you actually want to do. That’s how I want it.”

"Do you uhm… like it fast or slow? The pace I mean." He's slowly pushing inside you while he asks, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“That’s exactly what I meant. Do it however you want and we will see how I like it. Don’t be too gentle like this.”

"Talk to me, okay?" He's halfway inside you now, staying still for a few seconds as he leaves small kisses on your neck.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry, handsome. No one can stop me from complaining if I don’t like something.”

"Good girl." He tries different types of thrusts and angles at first, wanting to see what you respond to the most.

“Fuck. Why do you keep saying that?” She moves her hips to make him thrust faster.

"Because you're my good girl. Dirty too." He moans when he feels you. "God, you want it faster, baby?"

“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Move faster.”

And he does, his grip on your ass tightening as he starts thrusting just the way you want. "Fuck, you're soaked. You feel so good around me."

“You feel good, too.” You moan in between words. “And you are strong. Really strong,” you remark because he doesn’t look tired while holding you.

But he doesn't seem to acknowledge that. "I'm so fucking lucky, Jesus." He groans when he feels your lips sucking on his collarbone.

“You didn’t think your double date would end this way, huh?”

"Deep inside you? Not a chance." He smiles, speeding up.

“Maybe deep inside someone else.” You tease on purpose.

Bucky immediately stops thrusting. "What?"

“I was just joking about how we were meant to be on a date with other people.” You hate that you can’t shut your mouth sometimes.

"Oh," he nods, restarting to move. "Well, I can assure you, he wouldn't have done this tonight." He jokes back.

“Fuck me against the wall like this?”

"Fuck you at all. But especially like this. And the language?" He laughs. "Never."

“Oh, so honorable of him.” You keep joking. “Poor Cassie.”

His right-hand flies behind your head to protect it as his thrusts become way too quick. "Fuck. You feel like heaven, I swear."

“God, how do you do that?” You are surprised that he can carry you with one hand. “Are you sure you aren’t a super soldier yourself?”

Bucky shakes his head amused. "That will go straight to my ego."

“You're carrying me with one hand while protecting my head with the other, and you keep fucking me at the same time. I think it should go straight to your ego.”

He groans. "Lower one of your hands now."

“Lower it where exactly?” You don’t understand what he wants.

His hand moves from the back of her head for a few seconds just to bring her fingers to her clitoris. "Right here. Can you rub this for me?"

“Ohh.” You finally understand what he’s trying to do, so you listen and start rubbing yourself while his hand goes back to your head.

"Good, good girl. Look at you." He doesn't even realize how deep his thrusts are because his focus is on your fingers.

“Oh god… It feels so good.” You have never done something like this before. No public sex, no touching yourself during sex, no good girl whispers next to your ear. They all make you feel dizzy.

"Yeah? Just good?" His mouth finds your breasts this time, and you just know he's leaving a few marks there by the way he sucks on your skin.

“You wanna hear how good it makes me feel?”

"Ihmm."

“Oh, you are even dirtier than you are showing, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He looks up immediately. "Say that again." He demands.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

"Fuck, you need to rub faster."

“You need to fuck me harder.” You say while listening to his order.

"Harder?" He repeats, shocked, not expecting that in the slightest. But he does as you demand in a heartbeat, biting his tongue because it feels so good.

You have a hard time holding back your reaction because it feels just perfect. You can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Shit, you need to cover my mouth,” you say as quickly as possible.

"Just use me. Bite my shoulder," he suggests quickly, keeping the pace exactly the same.

You wanna say no, because you don’t wanna hurt him but there’s no other choice left. You sink your teeth in somewhere between his neck and shoulder and try to muffle yourself. The orgasm hits you so hard that you are afraid someone is gonna hear you even like this.

"Fuck," he groans, the pain feeling amazing as you keep coming, your legs wrapping even more tightly around his ass.

“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to say and go back to biting him, very aware of the hickey you are giving him, but that doesn’t stop you because you don’t want to get caught like this.

"Can't stop." At this point you wonder how no one noticed you by now. The sound of your skin touching and your groans are not quite silent. But even if they did, you know you wouldn't stop. How could you?

"Keep rubbing, I want you to find pleasure again."

“Again?” You sound shocked because you've literally just come.

"Again." He tries to lift one of your legs a little more. "Please."

“I don’t think I can, but keep going, okay?” You already came twice in a short amount of time. How much more can you do?

"Well, I think you can." He smiles. "Gonna mark me up, baby?"

“I think I already did.” You can see your teeth marks on his neck. You are sure it will turn into purple really soon.

"I'm your property now?" The hand he has on the back of your head quickly grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist.

“Are you?” You like the sound of that and how he’s pulling your hair.

"I am." He's frantically thrusting in and out of you. "Rub faster."

“Fuck,” you mumble while rubbing yourself. You aren’t sure if it’s gonna do anything, but it feels good. “Can I keep you then? You know, kidnap you and hide you in my apartment so you don’t have to go back to the war. We can just do this every day.”

"Fuck, do it." He smiles. "I dare you."

“Should I tie you up so it looks more realistic?” And suddenly all that rubbing starts to feel different, more pleasurable.

"On your bed? Go ahead."

You laugh at how easily he’s convinced, but your laugh is interrupted by a moan.

"Gonna come for me, dolly?"

“I am not sure.” You struggle to speak. “It feels like it.”

He pulls your hair hard. "Please, please."

“You beg so beautifully, how can I say no?” It’s not like your body is saying no, either.

When you finish coming again, you watch with your eyes semi-closed as James takes himself out without dropping you even a little and comes right on your thighs and ripped stockings. You feel the warmth of his come while you both are trying to catch your breath.

"This was… wow."

“This is a hell of a first date.” You find yourself giggling. Did all that really happen? The soreness between your legs says yes.

Bucky slowly puts you down. "You think?" He snorts.

“Oh yeah, very memorable.” You notice that your stockings are completely ruined so you have no other choice but to take them off.

"Fuck, you're dripping." He doesn't look like he's sorry and he can't say he is, either. He's actually very proud.

“Yeah, I am aware.” You laugh while taking them off and using them like a washcloth to clean yourself up.

"You have no idea how lovely the sight is." He winks at you while zipping up his pants.

You bite your bottom lip while looking at him. “Likewise. You look satisfied, Sargeant. Did something happen while you were gone?” You pull your skirt down.

"I got touched by an angel."

You laugh. “So cheesy. You are lucky that you are a bookworm. A really good-looking one, who is also good at bed even though we didn’t even need one.”

"Next time. Maybe we'll break it." He sounds so confident, but not demanding at all at the same time.

“When are you going back?” You find yourself asking. If he’s promising you a second time, you are gonna take it.

"In one week."

You make a sad face without realizing then take a deep breath to help yourself focus on the positive side. “That’s a lot of sex.”

He immediately lifts your chin and presses a kiss on your forehead. "I was joking. We got two months."

“You are such a liar.” You punch him in his shoulder.

Which only makes him laugh. "You like it hard."

But your attention is on his neck, on the spot you bit so hard. The purple spot looks really old and mostly faded already.

"No comment?" He snorts. "We're gonna have a lot of fun for sure."

“I have a question.” Your eyes are still on that same spot. “Does Steve heal quickly?”

"Why? You plan on kicking his ass?"

“Just answer the question, please.”

"Yeah, he does." Bucky shrugs. "One of the perks of the serum."

“Even the small scars or purple spots?”

"Yes." Bucky doesn't even think about it. "Which is great. Why? You think your friend will want to know?"

You don’t comment about his question, instead, touch the spot you bit down so hard. “You are nearly completely healed. My mark has vanished.”

"What?" He asks, confused.

“I bit down on your neck so hard, it was dark red. Now it’s gone.”

"I don't get purple easily. Never did. I guess you have to suck a little more." He smiles leaning in to kiss you again.

“I fully bit you,” you say before he does.

"I noticed." He giggled.

Since he doesn’t take it that seriously you let it go. “Fine. I will prove it to you later.”

"Prove what?" He gives you another kiss.

“That you heal quickly.” You try to fix yourself while you kiss him back.

"Oh, I feel healed every time I look at you."

“You are so cheesy.” Yet you can’t help but laugh. “How do I look?”

"Good boy version or?" He pauses dramatically.

“Both.”

"Good boy version first: you look like an angel." He smiles cheekily.

You snort. “I’m asking if I look decent, Bucky.”

"Angel,” he repeats before dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing. "They won't know you've got fucked against the wall if that's what you're afraid of. But you look strangely content and happy."

“That’s because I had a good date.” You scrunch your nose cheekily.

"Me too. The best date ever."

“Should we try to find our best friends?”

"Oh, sure." Bucky leans in to get the teddy bear before handing it to you.

"Ready for more war stories?"

“No, I’m not.” You hug the bear. “I gotta wash this.”

Bucky snorts. "Poor bear. Got traumatized."

“Traumatized and all dirty.” You don’t notice how close you are to Bucky until you feel him next to you. “Should we keep this a secret from our friends?”

"Do you want to?"

“I meant the having sex in a dark alley part. I don’t think my friend needs to know that.” She definitely shouldn’t know all this.

"We should totally keep that part to ourselves." He smiles.

“I could say that you kissed me or something. I don’t know. Is that too forward for the first date?”

"There's no such thing. You can say I kissed you."

“I was genuinely asking.” You smile. “I normally don’t even kiss on the first date.”

Bucky giggles, his hand squeezing your hip. "I am a lucky gal." You smile back at him until you notice a familiar face.

“Oh, is that Steve?” You point to the tall blonde guy.

"Yes, that's him. But where is your friend?"

“Right in front of him. I can see her dress.” It’s sticking on the side.

"Oh, yes. Gonna drive you home after that if that's alright with you." He sounds so casual like he already did that many times, but you notice something else.

“You have a car and you didn’t think of using it until now?”

"Oh." Redness takes over his cheeks. "I got… distracted."

"You are such an idiot." You start to giggle while walking toward your friends.

"Your idiot now. You got stuck with me for at least two months." He laughs.

"Just for two months?" You test his intentions.

"I can't assume you'd want to wait for me, can I?"

"I will tell your best friend to bring you back home in one piece. He's the hero after all. That should be easy, right?"

Bucky looks at her with a soft expression before kissing her hair. "Guess you really got stuck with me."

"Oh shit, Steve saw you kissing my hair." It’s going to be hard to keep this thing between you two.

"Does it bother you?"

“No, no, no.” You quickly try to explain. “It’s just I’m worried that they might think the worst of me. I mean… questioning our closeness.”

"I dare them." She is surprised by how serious and determined he is as he speaks.

“I would kiss you right now if I could.”

"I won't stop you." He giggles like a kid.

“Our friends are,” you whisper and look at your best friend, who is coming toward you. Cassie is holding Steve’s arm proudly.

"Oh, hello," Steve says. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there." Bucky shrugs. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!" Cass immediately giggles, joining the conversation. "He has the best, best stories. What about-" She cuts herself off when she notices your appearance. "What happened to your stockings?"

“Oh.” You blush a little, thinking about how they got ruined. “I tripped and ruined them. They looked so horrible I had to take them off completely.”

"Yes, they got really dirty," Bucky confirms with the biggest grin Steve has seen in ages.

"Oh, really?" He lifts his eyebrow. "What a shame."

“Yeah. Sergeant Barnes promised me a new pair. What a gentleman he is.”

"A gentleman indeed." Steve shakes his head, well aware of what you two have done.

You bite your lip and give Bucky a look, hoping at least Cassie has no idea. You are sure the three of you can keep a secret. For now…

You may wanna read the next part: Trust In What Tomorrow Brings