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im obsessed with everything of yours ive come across in the last ten minutes. the way you write bucky actually has me shaking on the floor with tears streaming down my face and my legs OML

ahhh omg thank you!!! i’ve been writing for bucky for like 11 years now so i feel as though i’ve crafted his perfect version of the character that i want to have hahahah thank you for taking the time to read my stuff ♥️♥️

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okay but why does everyone make bucky so mean during sex? like why is he slapping me in the face? why is he calling me a whore in every single fic? what happened to feelings? to love?

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You are like. The only writer i have found so far who actually takes into account that Bucky is probably dating for the first time in literally a century and would not be so easily ready to jump into the daddy dom super confident sex persona that I go a little insane scrolling past, sometimes. I appreciate your writing so much, man

Thank you so much!! Im going to go on a bit of a spiel with this answer but honestly, thank you for appreciating that because I grew up with Bucky, like he was my comfort character throughout high school and into my early twenties so I carry a lot of love for him completely separate from the whole desire for his character to be this sexy man, like this is a character I've used to get through my first break up/heartache, big changes in my life so seeing him reduced to this daddy dom kinda makes me sad cause he is a properly fleshed out character with a lot of backstory and heart and I want to write that and what it would be like to love/live with him Basically, this is my long-winded thank you note for this lovely message because I do get a little sad thinking that people only want him because he's hot. (Don't get me wrong, I do love a bit of Bucky smut, but he really do be my baby and I love him as much as I've loved a character who doesn't exist)

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i absolutely loved body wash, would you consider making a part two for it?

AHH yay!! thank you for the kind message! i’m not sure yet, i’m kinda just getting back into the swing of things in terms of writing but i’ll put it on the list !! thank you for reading my stuff 💞💞

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body wash- bucky barnes avenger!fem reader x bucky ft bestie sam -honey is a replacement for y/n

A sweetness washes over you as you side up to Bucky and Sam, the familiar scent catching you off guard because it is not you who smells like that you are far from smelling pleasant. Dirt and blood cake your skin, tight braid holds your filthy hair back from your equally muddy face, but when Fury calls from a debrief, there is very little time to clean yourself up beyond a quick spray of the deodorant left behind on the quinjet and the canned summer floral breeze does little to mask the stench of earth and gore.

You file in between the two men. Sam equipped with his wings and Bucky's hulking shoulders do little to give you room to walk between the two of them but you manage, pushing back against your shoulders to keep pace.

"So which one of you two used my body wash?" you question as you turn the corner, eyeing Bucky, who is already staring at you, eyes narrowing before schooling his expression back into neutrality.

"Don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart." He quirks a smile at you before flicking his eyes to Sam. "But Bird Boy over there smells an awful lot like you."

"How do you know what she smells like, Barnes?" Sam is quick with his retort, knocking against your shoulders with his and on any other given day, you would have pushed him back but after the mission you had just been off, your body gave into the shove. Ricochetting into Bucky who is already holding his hands up and out to steady you as your sway on your aching feet.

Fingers slide over the small of your back, the other wrapping around your arm to hold you upright and just as quickly as you're knocked off balance, you're pushed back into equilibrium with the help of the super solider.

"You right, hon?" Bucky asks, voice softer than earlier, hands lingering on you as he waits for an answer.

For a moment the only thing you can focus on is the gentleness with which he holds you, never having experienced for yourself before only witnessing it on the battlefield and missions as he cared for women and children, soft hands and even softer tone guiding them to safety under his protection. It stirs something within you, something deep in your chest and even deeper in your gut, heat blooming where it should not. He is your teammate, your mission partner, maybe a friend on your good days so why were you feeling like you wanted him to hold you forever, to never move his hand from the small of your back, to grip you a little tighter, to... no.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you shake the thoughts away, the world swaying a little as your head moves in rapid succession. "Just a little tired."

Bucky does not remove his hands but the pressure on your arm lessens.

"Need me to carry you?" he teases, lips quirking in a smirk.

You debate taking him up on his offer not just because you are beyond exhausted but because you want to have him close. Find out if the muscles that fill out his shirt work, to feel the cold of his arm, his heartbeat, stubble on your forehead as he presses a kiss to your hairline. What would he kiss like? Is he someone who rushes with heavy breaths and lots of tongue or is he soft and slow pulling moans and gasps from you like honey from a jar? Would he hold your cheeks, stroking his thumb over your skin or keep you close with a hand on the back of your neck? Is he the type to savour the feel of your mouth on his or does he explore, tasting the skin of your neck and collarbones, following the line of your shoulder, then back and down and down and-

"Hey, kid! You alright?" You're shaken out of your thoughts, body swaying as Bucky tries to get your attention. "Do you need to go to the medic?"

"I... no....I'm..." your stuttering does nothing to ease the growing tension radiating from Bucky. "I'm okay, I just got a little distracted. I'm okay." You pull your body out of his grip, bumping into Sam as you wretch yourself free.

Another pair of hands grip your shoulders and hold you upright but even as Sam holds you with the same gentleness Bucky did, there is no fire, no static beginning to buzz in your fingertips, it's just Sam.

"Are you sure? Did you hit your head or something?" Concern creases Bucky's forehead as he ducks his head to get a better look at you. He clasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your gaze up as he scans your eyes for concussion. Blue eyes frantically search yours and you feel the heat blooming again.

"Buck, I'm fine." you shake your face free, pushing against his shoulders to create distance in an effort to smother the fire building under your skin. "I've just finished a week-long mission, I'm tired and I stink and I just want to get this over with."

Sam's hands loosen on your shoulders as you step forward out from between them. "Honey-" Bucky tries again but you hold up a hand to cut him off.

"James, I'm fine. I just got distracted for a second thinking about which one you stole my body wash." the attempt to change the subject is weak but it's better than standing there with him so close. "I'm gonna see if I can get his meeting over and done with-" you jab your thumb towards the end of the hall. "and then if you don't hear from me by tonight, then you can come and check on me but let me shower and get back to being a human, yeah?"

Step by step you inch away from the two until you are far enough away you can turn and head to the door with heated cheeks and a racing heart. Fuck.

----

"What did you do to her, man?" Sam accuses, shoving Bucky's arm.

"I didn't do anything!" Bucky shrugs as he starts to go over the last few minutes in his mind but nothing stands out as out of the ordinary.

"Well, you obviously did something. I've never seen her freaked out like that" Sam gestures towards your retreating figure.

"Do you think it was the body wash thing 'cause I only used it 'cause I had nothing left." Bucky's confession is whispered, afraid you might hear him and come back for revenge. He knows how pedantic you are about your bath and body products but he really did run out of his usual soap and he wasn't not going to wash himself. "Plus it smells nice, I like the way she smells."

Sam squints at Bucky, trying to connect the pieces as to whether or not his friends had something more than they were letting on.

"I'll buy her some more in the morning." Bucky nods, turning his attention the the sound of the door closing at the end of the hall.

"I don't think it was the body wash, Buck."

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tell me WHY I WAS UP TILL 5AM WRITING BUCKY FANFIC AND NOW I HATE EVERY WORD OF IT

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do you think thunderbolts!bucky listens to Ribs by Lorde and thinks about Steve and how he should have been there with him?

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i forgot fanfic writing can be fun and doesn’t have to be my magnum opus and i can just do it cause it’s fun

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spider! (not man) bf!bucky and roomate!steve

Something doesn't feel right. A feeling of unease sits in your stomach, gnawing at the edges of your ribs. It's something small, maybe a misplaced item or an errand you had forgotten to do today. Did you put the washing out? Was it anyone’s birthday?

You run through a list of possible causes for the discomfort in your tummy, the turning in your gut calming as you continue down your mental checklist. It all but disappears as you reach the end, the breathing exercise calming your racing heart. But that peace is short-lived as you turn over, snuggling further into your sheets and spot it. Possibly the biggest spider in the history of mankind sitting comfortably on your pillow as if it also chipped in for the rent.

One would think that after years of training with the Avengers and having fought creatures with more than eight legs, you would have been able to handle a spider. They would be wrong.

A shrill scream leaves your lungs and you fling yourself off the bed, stumbling over the wired frame, smacking into the wrought iron hard enough to leave bruises, and catapult into the hallway.

“Bucky! Steve!” Your shout echoes through the apartment before the sound of pounding feet come running down the hall.

Steve reaches you first, arm winding around your waist to pull you behind the shield as Bucky follows closely behind, a kitchen knife gripped tight in his right hand.

"What's happening?" Steve asks frantically, looking down at you and checking your face for injuries.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

"There's a spider on the pillow." you gag, covering your mouth with your hand.

Steve's arm loosens.

"Seriously?" his tone defeated.

“Get rid of it, please.”

“Honey, we thought you were getting attacked” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he props the shield up against the wall. “Don’t scare us like that.”

“Steve, ease up. She hates spiders” Bucky reprimands his friend’s disapproving tone. “Go get a paper towel of somethin’ “

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bucky attempts to teach you how to drive

“You’re an Avenger, how do you not have your license?” Bucky’s tone is both accusatory and disbelieving as you slide into the driver’s seat of Sam’s car. 

You oppose his question with a single digit held up before his face as you buckle yourself in with the other. “Correction, I am a part of the Avengers team, I am not an Avenger.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “But you’re on the payroll?” 

“Technically, however,” James opens his mouth to interrupt with vindication at your admission but the stare you give him has him closing his mouth. “If you look at the role I get paid for it is just as a team member, not as a superhero or whatever your official definition is.” 

“But you're on the team?” 

“Yes.” 

A small chuckle comes from your driving instructor. “So you're an Avenger but don’t have your license?” he deadpans. 

Your hands clench at the wheel, ready to unbuckle and leave the car in search of another supervisor. 

“Are you even allowed to drive?” you accuse. “With you’re whole…thing? Is that even legal?” 

“Hey, I’m not the one on trial here.” Bucky raises his hands in defence. 

“No, but you were, so….” 

“That’s harsh, doll.” 

“Plus you don’t have an updated driver’s license so that’s two strikes for you.” 

“That is a technicality-” Bucky holds a finger up as he makes his point.

“And, there weren't autos back in your day so that’s three strikes,  Barnes” You reach across the console and open his door. “You’re out.”

Bucky stares back at you, jaw dropped in bewildered disbelief at your sudden dismissal. 

“Out of the car, old man. Go get Sam or Steve.” you jab your thumb to the outside world. “Hell, get Tony he might not drive a real car but its better than whatever you used to drive back in the day.”

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twilight? -bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: pre-civil war (bucky is in Romania and finds a friend in the local supermarket girl) they finally have their first coffee date! angst! bucky thinking about his past. honey is a replacement for y/n ~ wc: 2.4k ~ not proofread

For fifty years, the soldier had been the active mind in the body of James Buchanan Barnes. For that half a century, Bucky’s actions had not been his own, which in some aspects soothes the guilt that gnaws at his chest like a raven ravaging a corpse, picking at his decaying organs till his bones shine bright and clean, but in some other regards bolsters the powers of the monster made of shame and regret because he had been there, albeit locked in the deep, deep recesses of the soldier’s mind without any way of breaking free of the prison, but he was still there. James saw everything, felt every wound that tore at his skin, heard every cry and plea, the weight of the knife in his palm as he plunged into the neck of the soldier’s mission. He was there. Was. A key verb Bucky reminds himself of every morning as he spills the contents of his stomach into the sink after a new nightmare wretches him awake. Was. The word he writes in his journal over and over again until the script begins to look like chicken scratching. Was. Written in steam on the mirror as he dresses after a shower. A faint mark on his hand. The slip of paper in his wallet. A consistent reminder of his current reality. It has been working well this far, each time he feels that familiar pull of guilt's spindly fingers gripping his shoulders, he opens his journal or reads the slip of paper, a way to redirect his thoughts away from the feeling in the pit of his stomach that does not conjure any distinct memories, but fills his body with dread. 

Was. Was. Was. 

The slip of paper sits neatly in the second card slot in the tattered (and stolen) wallet. Beneath it is a metro card (also stolen) and another slip of paper. 

If you ever get a phone x

0763 389 295  

Your handwriting is neat, slanting slightly to the right as you quickly scrawled the message on a larger piece of paper before ripping it and slipping it into Bucky’s shopping bag. He hadn’t noticed the note until he had gotten home and began to unpack the groceries. Squished between two cans of fruit sat the delicate white piece, the black ink had leaked slightly due to the condensation off the fruit you had ‘sold’ him quickly before you shoved him out the door in case your manager caught on to the suspiciously low sale price and rectified the ‘mistake’. 

“I don’t want you to get fired, I can pay for the fruit.” Bucky had whispered as you pushed him out the door, your hands on his backpack shoving him towards the automatic doors. He was letting you push him, allowing you the small victory of feeling as though you had power over him in this moment just because he liked the way you smiled when you noticed his lack of apprehension to the touch. 

You shushed him and continued to press forward. “It’s not that expensive, I’ll just label it as a mistake.”

Bucky stopped, rooting his feet to the floor and preventing you from shoving him another inch. He felt your body slam into his back at the sudden halt, a small huff coming from you at the sudden bump. He turned to face you. You looked even cuter as you pouted.  

“Exactly, so let me pay for them.” He began to reach for the wallet but your hand on his wrist stopped him. 

Panic paralysed the ex-assassin for a moment as your fingers wrapped around his arm, your pinky dangerously low to the edge of his jacket sleeve, to the sliver of metal that sometimes peeked out from under the layers. Bucky’s heart began to race, thudding in his chest and filling his head with loud thumps, his breathing turned shallow, chest heaving rapidly. He should run. Wretch his arm away from you and run the entire way home, then get on a train and move. 

Run, you moron! Run!

But he couldn’t. The grip on his wrist softened as you noticed his change in demeanour. You pulled back breaking all contact in a fraction of a second and stepping back, giving him a wide berth to move if need be. 

“Are you-?” You asked, face softening in concern. 

Bucky nodded, inhaled a short sharp breath and squared his shoulder. “Yeah.” he slipped the wallet into the plastic bag. “I’ve gotta go, see ya.” 

And he was out the door. The whooshing in his brain didn’t stop until he was safely inside his apartment, the door barricaded with a plank of wood and the sound of the television playing softly in the background. The metal of his arm flashed in his peripheral vision, and god did he want to rip it from his body. To tear the faux appendage and throw it into a river, off a mountain, in the dump, anywhere that I would not be attached to him. Tears pricked at Bucky’s eyes as he felt his throat tighten with impending tears. He had already cried this morning and had hoped he would not again for the rest of the day but as he slid down the the door, the tears began to flow and Bucky was once again alone. 

—---

Bucky’s apology for the abrupt exit came a day later. In the form of a letter left for you at the front desk. A coworker hands it to you, clearly very annoyed that he had been tasked with something other than work. 

“Some guy left it for you.” he sighs, shoves his hands into jacket pockets and starts to walk down the aisle. 

“Some guy? And you took it?” You shout at him in disbelief. “Did you even ask his name?” 

Your co-worker shakes his head, still with his back to you and answers. “Didn’t care enough to.” 

The envelope itself is clean. No weird marks or stains, nothing that could indicate that there would be anything creepy or dangerous inside. It isn’t heavy or bulky so no weird gift concealed in it, so maybe it’s safe? You slowly open the paper careful to avoid spilling any powder or whatever may be inside but as you open it and find a note, your fears begin to subside. 

Inside there is a handwritten note addressed to you. 

Honey, 

I’m sorry that I left so quickly the other day. You did nothing wrong, I just got a bit overwhelmed and had to leave. I’ve left extra money in here to pay for the plums so please put it in the register or use it for something you want, I don’t mind, I just don't want you to get fired. 

I might not be in for a few days (there is a big job coming up a town away) but I'll see you when I get back. I still don’t have a phone so I’ll come in and see you. I hope you still want to get coffee. 

Bucky x 

---

"So why are you in Bucharest?” 

The question is simple enough that a non-detailed answer could be given, and neither one would be the wiser, Yet you both sit in the booth, eyes trained on the steaming cups of coffee, in complete silence. 

You're the first to break the silence. 

"Did you get the plums?” 

Bucky looks up from his coffee, lines of worry melting.  “I did.” he reaches into his backpack, the same one you had seen on him each time he came into the store, and pulls out two perfectly purple plums. His large, gloved hand dwarfs the small fruits, looking like tiny river stones in his palm. 

For a moment he is no longer the man who had saved you from certain death. He is a boy you had met long ago in the village square with eyes of endless blue and a smile of summer sunshine, whose hand slipped in yours as you ran through fields of wheat and barley, hiding in empty fox holes and climbing the great oak trees. He is a child, unburdened and carefree, suffering and heartbreak unknown. 

You sit straighter, leaning in to get a good look at the fruit before you and match the small smile on his face. 

“You want one?” Bucky offers. 

The action itself does nothing to shake the aura of innocence surrounding him at that moment. It was too kind, too well-intentioned to reignite that ember of apprehension that lives in each interaction you have, but there is something off about him, not sinister or unpleasant, just something that isn’t quite as obvious as it should be. 

You shake your head at the generous act.

“Oh, it's okay. They must been expensive, not being in season. Thank you, though. You’re very sweet.”  

Bucky nods and retracts his hand, the fruit disappearing back into the backpack. His cheeks are pinker than before, ears tinting red and you wonder if it's because of your compliment, though not at all your intention, but it has your heart racing a beat faster. 

“Have you always lived in Bucharest?” he asks, gloved fingers picking up the mug of steaming coffee. 

“Not always.” You trace the lip of your mug with a finger, taking the time to formulate a concise response without trauma dumping. “I lived in a few Yugoslavian countries until I was around five then moved to the US ‘till around a year ago. Travelled around for a bit before finally settling here.” 

“Didn’t like any of the other places?” Bucky takes a sip of his coffee.

“London was good, Ireland even better but I missed the feeling of home. I wanted something that made me feel safe and ended up in Serbia for a bit before coming here.” 

“What made you choose Romania?” his interest in your story seems sincere. 

You look up from the foam of your cappuccino to find Bucky watching you intently.

“Wanna hear the dorky truth or a cooler answer?” 

“Dorky truth.”

You sigh and square your shoulders. “Vampires.” 

“Vampires?” Bucky laughs, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the rest of his amusement. 

“I know, it’s stupid. I just-” You can't help the laugh that escapes you as you begin to gush over the creatures you had obsessed over as a teen. “I was obsessed with vampires when I was a kid and promised myself I would visit Bran Castle when I got older, which I did see on my first week here, and then ended up finding a really nice apartment and a decent job so here I am.” 

“You were obsessed with vampires as a kid?” Bucky fixes you with a look of pure astonishment. 

You nod, taking another sip of your coffee to hide the blush creeping over your face.

“You, a child, were obsessed with a terrifying creature of the night?” 

“I wasn’t a child. Okay, a kid is an exaggeration, I was, around fourteen, fifteen maybe. And I read this book and the vampire was attractive and it just spiralled from there.”

“The vampire was attractive?”

“Yes, as attractive as words on a page can be.” you shrug, 

“Are you admitting to finding old bald men with creepy ears attractive?”

Old bald man? Creepy ears? Oh! 

“Bucky no! Not Dracula!” the volume of your exclamation is a tad too loud for the small cafe. 

“What other popular novel about vampires is there? He’s the only one I can think of.” 

“You’ve never heard of Twilight?” 

“As the time of day, yes.” he looks at you as though you're the stupid one for thinking that Twilight could be anything other than that. 

“Not the vampire series with the mortal girl and vampire lover?” 

Bucky shakes his head.

“You need to watch it.” you rub your temples in mock frustration. “We’re watching it, I’m going to force you to watch it so you can see the appeal that is the modern-day vampire.” 

“I’m not going to-” he begins his protest. 

“Why are you acting like you have a choice in any of this? As your friend, I must educate you on the wonders of the Twilight Saga, the fate of our friendship depends on it.” 

“As my friend?” the corners of his mouth twitch downwards in a sad smile. “We’re friends?” 

“Yeah. What other word would you use to describe two people who are gonna spend the next week watching the best and worst movie franchise in the history of mankind?” 

“A kidnapping victim?” 

You gasp in shock, hand pressing against your heart in offence. “How dare you? I was about to open my home to you but no longer, Bucky….” You trail off not realising you don’t know his last name. 

“Rogers,” he answers and you continue your tirade. 

“Bucky Rogers, you are no longer invited to my twilight marathon.” you can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face despite your futile attempts at mock anger. 

Bucky just shakes his head and laughs, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles at you. “You’re a weird kid.” 

“Kid?” You laugh and pick up the mug you had almost forgotten about. “How old are you?”

“Older than you think.” there is a hint of humour in his answer but you're not sure why. It had not been a funny question or any kind of innuendo yet the glimmer in his eyes alludes to a fact you are not yet privy to. 

“That’s ominous,” the cup returns to the table but your fingers do not leave the mug. “Are you secretly a hundred-year-old vampire? Are you here to seduce me into joining your army of the undead?” 

“I am but I’m not bald with long ears and creepy nails so I don’t think anything I do is gonna work on you?”

“It wasn’t Dracula!” you throw your hands up exasperated and sigh, your cheeks hurting from the constant smiling. 

Bucky hums his refusals to accept your truth. He is prettier now, especially as he relaxes into the soft cushion beneath him, all tension eased as you both laughed at your ridiculous life choices. The blue in his eyes seems brighter and you like the way his lips look as you smile. Fuck, he is beautiful.

“Imagining me bald with pointy ears?” Bucky teases, tucking his hair behind human ears. 

You cannot help the rolls of your eyes as you shake your head. “Nope, just thinking about how you don’t really look like a Rogers.” 

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i am going to be posting some drafts I have sitting in my computer because I don't know when I'm going to be able to upload again (new work schedule that has me working six days a week but I want to get some stuff out) plus it all silly, brain rot stuff that I don't think I would put in an actual fic

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bucky always brushes his metal thumb over your wrist because he can feel your pulse and it makes him feel a little more human

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bucky. on. his. knees.

i need y'all to sit and think about that with me for a quick second okay. This man, in FULL tactical mission gear (weapons still strapped to his thighs and slung across his back), kneeling before you with his head buried between your thighs in the middle of the quinjet, his patience had been growing thin for days as the training mission wore on and on and on, his need for you however had only built and built until his blood simmered with unchecked heat, his skin slick with sweat as desire boiled over in a mess of huffed breaths and muffled moans as he came to the thought of you over and over again. Its not as if you hadn't noticed his lingering touches, the longing glances, his not so subtle hints at just how much he was going to ruin you as soon as you went home but days four and five and six begin to roll around, the tether holding Bucky's sanity snapped.

"Up. Now." Bucky's gruff voice commands as you feel his fingers tap the outside of your clothed thigh.

You lift your head, gaze still locked on the red dots of your team mates in the screen before you, and question him with a soft hum. Steve’s dot blinked as he crossed paths with Nat, her accurate aim lighting up his tactical vest with a hit.

“Come on. Get Up” he instructs again, a little firmer this time, fingers digging into your thigh.

“What- Buck, what is it?” You finally glance at your partner who is looking suspiciously flustered. “You okay?”

“Just get up and take your pants off.”

“James-“ you begin to chastise him but are cut off as your chair spins around, Bucky kneeling before you as his hands begin to work open the buttons at your waist.

“Please sweetheart, i’m going crazy. Just lemme eat-.”

“Bucky, there are cameras.” despite your protests you are lifting your hips to allow Bucky to slip your trousers down your thighs.

“I’ll wipe the data.” his reply is gruff as he pulls you to the edge of the seat, your thighs slung over his shoulders as his hot breath fans over you. “i’ll be quick, please.” he doesn’t finish his sentence before diving in, his tongue flat against your aching pussy.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Bucky and the thousand and one ways you wanted to fuck him once getting home but there hasn’t been a moment alone to take care of yourself and so your tension built and built until a single look had you gushing and aching.

“You’re sitting on my face when we get home.” Bucky mumbles, words muffled as he licks and sucks. “Need you to suffocate me.”

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The first time you get Bucky to record the two of you, he is a nervous mess. The offer to film has his hips stilling in you, his brows furrowing in timid confusion as he tries to comprehend the offer presented before him. He is quick to dismiss the idea thinking that it would taint your image of him, that you would see him as nothing more than a simple man but as you remind him that you are offering, he hesitantly accepts. Bucky fumbles with the phone, suddenly too awkward with the technology but as you hold your fingers over his and angle the phone just right, he relaxes and begins to fuck you again.

“Do you wanna record?” your voice hitches as Bucky slides his cock over your sopping cunt, the heat of his body searing your skin.

“Record this?” he is breathless, too far gone as he continues to rut against you, his hips stuttering with each languid stroke.

You nod, stretching a hand out to the night stand, fingers curling around the phone before opening the camera app. The screen blurry for a second as it adjusts to the low light but soon focuses. Bucky swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling the plush flesh between his teeth in deliberation.

“Are you sure?” the question is timid, blue eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief at your offer. “We don’t have to. I can remember this just fine.”

“I know you can remember but It’s just so you can have something of me when we’re apart on missions or whatever.” You slip the phone into his hand, your other hand stroking along the sides of his torso, goosebumps in their wake.

Bucky takes a second to think and you swear you can hear the gears turn and tick but as you begin to rut against his hips, fucking yourself on his cock again, his mind his made up.

He holds the phone in his right hand, the left gripping your thigh to hold you open to him, to try and get the best angle possible but after a few thrust he gives up with a breathy giggle.

“It’s gonna be so blurry, my hands can’t stop shaking”

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new girl type AU! where Bucky, Steve and Sam all live with Honey (reader) and there is never really a dull moment between the four of them.

if you bring a guy home to ''watch movies' whoever is home makes sure to sit in the living room making it as uncomfortable as it can be for the two of you while they blissfully enjoy the film and snacks you had put out. Bucky even went as far as to sit between the two of you because 'my spot is right here. I've always sat here and always will' despite knowing his spot was on the other couch.

a/n: headcanon idk Christmas is ruining my brain

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getting matching pyjamas with bucky for christmas that only further fuel the speculation that you two are in fact dating and not just fiends and roommates because “friends don’t have matching couples pyjamas” tony remarks as he watches you wrap the gift box containing bucky’s half of the set.

“you and bruce have matching pyjamas?”

“we have matching t-shirts that we got on a trip to disney world, we don’t have matching silk robes.” Tony takes a bite of his apple to punctuate his point.

“they’re not silk robes.” you rolls your eyes, taping the last flap of paper. “you don’t pay me enough to afford silk robes.”

“so you admit it’s a couples set!” he slams a hand on the table, his brows raised as eyes wide.

“it’s not a couples set. It’s two friends wearing the same pyjamas because we are grown adults who can have a platonic relationship without any implication of something sexual.” you find yourself growing defensive at Tony’s persistence that your relationship to Bucky is anything but innocent but that would only fuel his assumptions so you take a few breath and stand, collecting the tape and scissors and perfectly wrapped gift in your arms and walk away from the situation knowing that your silence and lack of engagement aggravate him more than if you were to snap back.

“i know you two are boning.” he shouts after you, words muffled around another bite of apple. “you can’t hide it from me forever!”