#Bucky/reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

THE SUNDAY REGULAR. 18+

bucky barnes x waitress fem!reader

wc. 4605 summary. you’re a waitress working at some shitty run-down diner in the middle of nowhere. and every sunday you see the same person at the same time walk through the doors. the pair of you forming a bond over time. though today, he doesn’t at his usual time and you begin to worry that you’ll have to wait another week to see him. the regular then finds out some information about you that he didn’t wish to know, and in turn, information you didn’t wish to share. warnings. 18+ only! very brief indirect drug description, reader is engaged, small moment of violence, wound tending, repressed feelings, yearning and pining bc its yummy, idiots in love, filth, pinv, premature ejaculation (he can't help it. he's wanted her a while, okay?) creampie. mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Sunday, 8:26pm. 24 minutes until closing time.

40-some miles outside of Washington DC.

You peer up at the clock on the wall behind you and weirdly find yourself hoping that it was displaying a lower number — wishing it to be an hour, maybe two earlier. You would never wish to be working at the diner for longer than you needed to be, but you were a customer short today and you were starting to grow restless. 

The regular's presence becoming all the more noticeable as the hours passed you by. They were truly the only reason you began to pick up Sunday shifts in the first place. 

Your hope begins to dwindle as you watch the second hand briskly move its way around the clock. There was a very strong chance that you won’t be seeing him walk through those doors tonight and you had to start welcoming that possibility. Unless your Sunday regular shows up in the next twenty minutes, you’re sadly going to have to wait another week more. 

You rest your arms across the counter of the bar, hands stretching outwards as you slot your head between your upper arms. Using the moment as a way to ease the strain in your eyes. You hear the sound of what you know for certain is a motorcycle, his motorcycle, and your head whips up, checking if your suspicions were as true as you knew them to be.

And it was. It was him. Only several hours later than what he usually is. 

You twist on your heel to the wall of mugs behind you and reach for the cleanest one you can see. You place it onto the bar just as he walks through the doors, meeting him with one of those smiles you only show to those who mean most. 

The feeling of relief fills your lungs as you in turn fill his cup, pouring him some black coffee.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” you welcome as you turn your back to him, placing the pot back onto its spot.

“You serve the best coffees, how could I not?” Bucky smiles, taking a seat at the empty bar — dismissing his usual seat in the far left booth against the window. 

“The trick is to let it sit for hours at a time.”

He takes a sip and nods, letting the particularly bitter liquid sit in his mouth a moment. “Yeah that would do it.”

“The kitchen is closed for the night, but I can offer you some pie? I was gonna take it home but it’s all yours if you want it,” you offer, suggesting a compromise to his usual order. “It’s pecan,” you tempt, pulling the paper box out from under the counter. 

He looks at the singular slice and back up to you briefly, appreciating the rather selfless offer. But he couldn’t do that to you, it was yours.

“No no, I’m fine thanks. The coffee will do just fine.”

As you close the box, something shiny on your left hand catches his attention. He grows quiet and his eyes become fixed on your hand atop the box, focusing on an engagement ring.

You snatch your hand away and laugh dryly, hiding it like you were ashamed of it.

“I uh, didn’t know you were—” he stops himself, pulling his gaze away from the band. He swallows thickly and coughs in his fist. “Congratulations.”

It doesn’t match your other jewellery, he thought. It's the wrong metal.

“Thanks,” you smile weakly, stashing your hand into your pinny – keeping it from his view, and quite frankly your own. “It all happened kinda fast, but uh,” you pause, trying to find the words. “I’m happy.”

Such a lie.

“Good,” he forces a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

You clear your throat, and nod. “Thanks.”

You each still rather awkwardly, the announcement –or if that’s what you’d call it– making you both fumble for conversation for the first time ever. But what else could one say after that? 

Bucky stares down at the mug in his hand, mentally plucking out conversation starters — hoping to think of something to say. But frankly, he was rather devastated, heartbroken even. The sight of the engagement ring feeling like a knife to the chest. Any chance of speaking was likely to result in further heartbreak.

He really thought you liked him.

He peers up at you when he notices your silence, though your eyes never meet his — they've become rather focused on a spot above his shoulder. He follows your eyeline and sees two men by a tree swapping items from their pockets. 

Bucky’s gaze slowly finds its way back to you, moving slow like he was reluctant to see the upset cloud within your eyes. 

“That’s him, right?” he asks hesitantly.

You can only scoff, head shaking disapprovingly as you watch the exchange play out. You had already previously suspected that the quitting was a ruse, and now you have the proof. All of it happening in front of your eyes. 

“He said he stopped,” you mutter under your breath, forgetting your present company.

Though Bucky hears, he doesn’t say anything. Rather he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s quite sure he’d make the situation worse if something were to be uttered from his mouth. But in truth, he was disappointed in your choices, and while he doesn’t know you a whole lot –nor you him– he’s always had the assumption that you were strong of mind. That you were capable of making good choices for yourself.

“I need to start closing up,” you hint, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as you make yourself busy behind the counter.

Any other time you would’ve given anything to stall closing up shop, do anything to just spend a few more minutes in his company. But after everything that’s happened in the last few minutes, you could barely look at him. Quite frankly, you were embarrassed with the events of it all, mortified and ashamed even. 

You knew you were making a mistake with your choice of partners, and you could tell that Bucky knew it too. 

“I understand,” he nods. 

He stands and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ten and placing it under his mug. He can only observe you from behind, your lack of eye contact telling him all he needs to know. And so he slowly begins gathering his things, stalling to see if you would give him anything more than the back of your head.

“I’ll see you next Sunday?” he questions as he backs away from the counter.

He prays that you would give him a smile or wave perhaps, just something before he reaches the doors, though you never do — you just continue to busy yourself with things that do not require your attention. You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes or for him to see the heartbreak in yours, so you faked work: adjusting already adjusted cups on the shelf.

“Yeah,” you hum, your back still to him.

As soon as you hear the doors shut, you begin to quickly make your way around the diner to shut things off, finding yourself in a rush to confront your fiancé outside. You lock the front doors and head out into the back, grabbing your things so you could exit through the kitchen. 

You see and hear your partner’s truck off to the side and head towards it, walking to your fiancé in the driver's seat.

“You’re a liar,” you shout over his loud music, talking to him through the rolled down window. “You are a fucking liar!” your voice grows louder, physically expressing the hatred in your heart.

He shuts the music off with a smack to the console and turns to look at you. 

“You’re outta your fucking mind, you know that?” he returns, his tone matching yours.

You scoff, laughing at him like it was entertaining. “Wow,” you shake your head.

“Okay then, give me back that ring,” he extends his hand towards you out the window, opening his hand. “You clearly don’t trust me, give it back.”

“Oh what, the ring you found at a fair?” you scoff. You yank it off your finger and throw it into his truck. “It’s the wrong metal anyway. I don’t wear that colour.”

In the front parking lot, Bucky waits. Lingering and pretending that he was trying to fix and adjust something on his bike. He could tell something were to go down, and he couldn’t leave you on your own to fend for yourself with a man that’s off his head. He hears voices raise from the back and his ears prickle, his suspicions proving to be correct. He slowly makes his way around on foot, walking a little faster when he hears a man’s voice raise.

“Get your own way home,” your fiancé, well, now ex-fiancé yells and unmutes his deafening music, turning it up even louder.

You weren’t sure if you were able to say anything more without crying, so instead you hit his truck, kicking a dent into the rusty door. He shouts something indecipherable and opens the door to get at you, but you push on it, shutting it closed. 

And in that moment warning signs flicker rapidly in Bucky’s brain – his brisk footsteps becoming a hastened jog. He didn’t know this man or what he was capable of, and he did not want to find out. 

But before he could get there, he sees you land a hefty punch to the man’s face inside the truck, a shout and a curse following after. Bucky rushes to your side, like he was offering his assistance, but the man in the truck speeds off — the large, manly company seeming to scare him off.

“Are you okay?” he swallows thickly, heart pounding in his chest. He turns you by the shoulders to face him, a look of pure worry slapped across his face. 

You stare off into the distance, gaze detached as if you were trying to process everything. It all happened so fast. You direct your eyes to focus on Bucky and nod slowly, finally able to look at him once again.

And while one may think that you were lying with that nod, it was one of truth, because you really were okay. Maybe for the first time since you put on that ring.

All you can do is hug him, arms wrapping tightly around him as you bury yourself in his comfort. At first he’s reluctant, his own arms hanging at his sides while he debates with himself. This is all he’s ever wanted, why else would he travel forty miles for a cup of shitty coffee and dry pie? And so, he finally gives in, his arms finding themselves circulating you, hands tight to your back as if he’s trying to prolong this moment. Take it all in, in case this were to be the last. 

You eventually pull away and look down at your feet, staring at the cracked concrete beneath you. “I uhm,” you start. “My car’s in the shop and he was my ride.”

“Of course,” is all he says, understanding exactly what you were trying to ask of him. 

During the short walk to his motorcycle out front, nothing was said with words — all of the talking being said through glances and smiles, small shy looks away when gazes were to meet.

Reaching his bike, he hands you his helmet and hops on, extending a hand to help you get on behind him. You were hesitant at first, the thought of being on a motorcycle for the first time ever made you feel sick. But you knew you were in safe company, him giving you his own helmet proving so.

You reach your arms around his waist, securing yourself to him as your fingers interlock around his stomach. His eyes close briefly, the feel of having you so close to him makes it difficult to breathe. He glances downwards, wanting to curate the memory in his brain. 

He watches your hands adjust in front of him and sees a lack of shine on your left ring finger. The sight practically made his heart swell.

Conversation was non-existent on the way to your house, which one would expect while on a motorcycle, but that didn’t mean neither of you had nothing to say. Quite the opposite in fact. 

He pulls up outside yours with the help of your direction and shuts off the engine. He helps you off first, holding your hand as if to give you balance before he joins you on the ground. Standing a few short inches from you.

You pull out your keys from your bag and head to your small, quaint house — walking towards the windchimes and well attend to potted flowers on the porch. Bucky shadows you, keeping a respectful distance as he walks you to your house.

“Would uh,” you pause and turn to look at him, offering a smile. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

He so desperately wants to, though he’s not sure if you’re in the right frame of mind to have a guest –practically a stranger– in your house. 

“I promise I make better coffee than the diner,” you playfully offer, exhausting routes to get him to come inside.

He hesitates, footing scuffing against the doormat as he battles with himself. 

“Only a small one,” he smiles and begins to take off his jacket. 

Your smile widens and you turn to open the door, making your way inside. You flick on a couple lamps and gesture him inside, trying to make him feel comfortable. Doing whatever you can to get him to stick around a little longer.

“Take a seat,” you nod to the sofa in front. “Be right back.”

You head into your room and mimic a silent scream, you couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited to have a man in your house. Undressing from your work uniform, you put on your pyjamas from the night before: mismatched oversized tee and plaid bottoms. You didn’t want any exaggerated effort in your appearance to be known in case it makes him flee, so you opt only for a few spritzes of deodorant.

In the other room, Bucky shares a similar feeling. He chews on a mint from his pocket and adjusts his hair, suddenly feeling a sense of pressure in the way that you might now perceive him. 

You join him in the main room a few moments later and head to the kitchen, making a start on the drinks. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you call out to Bucky and he turns to follow your voice.

“Anything.”

“Do you even black coffee?” you ask, a lively tinge in your voice.

“I do,” he mimics your tone, nodding a singular time. 

“Okay, let me rephrase,” you pause and reach into the freezer, pulling out several large ice cubes. “Do you like the diner’s back coffee?” you smile, heading towards him as you twist the ice into a dishtowel, securing it.

His lips form a straight line as he thinks about the weight of the question. Either way, his answer would contain a lie of some kind.

“I don’t,” he answers truthfully.

“I knew it,” you smile and plonk yourself down beside him. “No one likes our coffee.”

He twists slightly to look at you, watching your grin widen as your eyes fall to your lap. You’ve begun icing your hand from the punch earlier, holding the cold compress to your knuckles. His eyes fall to your hand, watching you struggle to hold the awkward shape in your non-dominant hand.

He once again battles with himself, mentally weighing it all in his mind. He wanted to help you, but he didn’t know if he could go without not being able to touch your skin ever again. But as he continued to watch you struggle with the shape, he thought that surely one touch couldn't hurt. 

“Let me,” he whispers, moving closer.

And so his hands reach for yours hesitantly, holding your hurt one carefully within his left, metal hand as the other presses the compress to your skin. Your eyes flicker up to his, silently appreciating how attentive and gentle he’s being with you. And how he seems to be doing it all from the kindness of his heart — no other ulterior motive following.

It made you realise how much of a mistake you made by saying yes to that proposal earlier this week. How much it’s complicated things if you would have just been honest with yourself from the start. You only wanted security, and you’ve grown to realise that what you were getting with your now ex-fiancé, wasn’t safety. It was fear. Fear of being alone and for admitting you had deeper looming feelings for your regular than you had first realised.

And while Bucky could only speak on his behalf, he always had a feeling there was something more between you. He wouldn’t have travelled eighty miles every Sunday if he didn’t think there was a possibility that you could in fact like him too.

So, he enjoys this moment, eyes transfixed on the kindling of your fingers atop your lap. It’s all so casual, so intimate. The feeling in person far better than what he’s imagined.

You wanted something more. You wanted it to progress into something you weren’t yet quite sure of. So, you place your free hand atop his, holding the back of his hand as he attends to the swelling on your knuckles.

He meets your eyes to see that your focus was already set on him, gaze soft and trusting as you watch him tend to you. The ice beginning to melt between the warmth of your touch.

You move your hand from atop his and extend it outwards, slowly reaching for the side of his face. You hold him there as you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek as if to show your thanks. It wasn’t originally the placement you had in mind, but truthfully you copped out at the last minute — far too afraid to be the one to ruin things.

He sensed that. 

And so, he took the pressure off you by being the assertive one: guiding you back in for a kiss to the lips before you were to get too far. It was clearly what you both wanted, the prolonged contact of your lips a physical declaration of that. 

Setting the ice towel on the coffee table, you bring your other hand to his face, holding him within your palms. And in turn his hands slip up to your waist, grip tight like he was afraid that if he were to let go, you’d disappear like you’ve done in all of his dreams before.

The kiss grows deeper and you each move closer, both eager to make this moment last. But it has to end at some point and Bucky parts away first, forehead resting to yours briefly. The tips of your noses rubbing against one another.

“You’ve had a tough night,” he catches his breath, speaking quietly between the close distance. “You shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“I’m not,” you pull away, shaking your head at him sternly. “I have wanted this for so long,” you finally admit, your hands falling to rest on his shoulders.

He just simply stares at you, head tilting as his lips open to speak. 

“You’re the reason I started picking up Sunday shifts,” you whisper, trying to persuade him that your feelings about progressing with him could not be swayed. And that this is what you wanted.

His eyes lower bashfully and his head shakes. You were the reason he would drive that distance every week.

“And, I…” you cut yourself off, pausing as if it had all become too real. So you change what you were going to say, thinking it may be too soon to proclaim such wild, outlandish feelings. “And I made a mistake… I didn’t love him.”

Bucky places his fleshed hand to your cheek, holding you dearly while you speak into existence the things he too feels. 

“I couldn’t have what I wanted… so I settled,” you divert from his eyes, suddenly aware of how little he’s speaking and how much you are..

He itches closer and closer, mouth ghosting yours once again. “And what did you want?” he whispers, speaking against your lips. It was like he was trying to pry it out of you for his own validation, tease it out of you almost.

All you can muster in response is a small, “You.”

And that's all he needed.

He directs you to lay lengthwise across the sofa, his body joining yours mere seconds later to over atop — the weight of him supported so as not to crush you. You wrap yourself around him as quick as your own body could allow it: bent knees lifting to hug at his sides, arms wrapping around his neck. Hips winding up against his desperately, keeping him close. 

The deepened kisses divert, and the trail of his mouth moves across your face, heading for the skin under your ear. He litters a few flutery kisses into the patch before lowering, peppering open-mouth kisses down the side of your throat. 

He wished that this moment could last, that he too could last. But he was fairly certain his stamina would fail him tonight, the way you look and smell and feel and sound all hindering his self-control. The sheer fact that this was all finally happening makes him feel like a very weak man indeed.

And suddenly the panic settled in for him. He had nothing. He wasn’t expecting this to happen, especially not tonight.

You sense a sudden worry and pull back, lusty heavy eyes flickering across his face. “What is it?” you ask breathlessly.

“I don’t have anything,” he hints, waiting for you to fill in the blanks yourself.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure, wandering hands moving down his sides. “I do… I’m on something,” you reassure.

He looks quite visibly relieved.

Your fingers slink into the hem of his long sleeve and you tug on the fabric. And while you’re eager to get him out of it, your pace remains slow. Like you were savouring it all. Your fingers skit over his skin as more of it becomes exposed, the top almost all the way off by now. He helps you help him out, alternating the anchoring of his hand so that you could pull his arms from either sleeve.

You drop it to the floor and in turn he starts to undress you from your t-shirt. His knuckles skim your stomach and the slow lifting begins to feel tortuous, the presence of him growing overwhelming.

And when your top half is finally bare, he adjusts himself over you, itching down your body. He presses a trail of kisses around each tit and down your stomach, moving hesitantly to the waistband of your pyjamas. His lips halt in place, searing white hot warmth to just under your belly button.

Your hands follow with him, fingers weaving through his dark hair as if to offer an ounce of the pleasure he’s giving you right now. His movements are slow and teasing as he starts to undress your lower half — removing both your underwear and bottoms with the same motion.

He stills for a few seconds, taking all of you in. How surreal that it is that you’re lying there completely naked on the couch before him, your gaze intently following every one of his movements. Sealing a final kiss to your upper, inner thigh, he sits back on his heels to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Tugging them both down to pool at his knees — saving the trouble later on.

Bucky moves back up you to resume his prior position. Chests close, faces even closer. He reaches between your bodies and to his rock hard cock, carefully wrapping a hand around himself as he guides his aching dick towards you. Touch faint to ensure things don’t end prematurely for you both.

He presses his head to your folds, coating himself in your arousal and you both gasp at the sheer contact of the other. You were both virtually at the edge already, despite not having touched each other properly yet. It was as if this has been building for months and months and months. And now that you’re finally touching skin, it’s nearly impossible to contain yourselves. Control yourselves.

He taps his head at your cunt a couple times, swirling it around briefly before lining up with you, tip of his cock resting perfectly against your entrance. Stilling for a second, he simply allows a moment to soak all of this in, take it in that this really is happening. But he can’t leave you waiting too long, especially when you’re looking up at him so keenly.

And so he leans in to kiss you, lips locked with yours as he simultaneously feeds himself into you, cock worming its way inside your pussy. You gasp into his mouth and the noise vibrates on your tongues, the sound becoming a strained muffle. He mirrors you with a groan of his own, unable to keep himself quiet from the way you feel wrapped around him.

Bucky retracts his hand from his dick and places it on your cheek, holding you as he sinks more of himself inside, moving slowly so as to allow you time to adjust. Eventually easing the entirety of himself in you. Balls pressing firmly to your folds from the depth of him. 

You feel even better than he imagined. So warm, so snug, so safe. And he has to pause, halt any further movement so that he doesn’t explode right now and then. 

Your fingers grasp at his hair, using it as something to hold onto — something to pour your intense want into. You break the kiss and your head falls back against the cushion, weight of it growing far too heavy to hold up. 

“I can feel you in my stomach,” you whine in a whisper, eyes half lidded as you peer up at him.

He shakes his head and his brows furrow, the utter filth you whispered seeming to strip him of his control, and he wasn’t entirely happy about it either. He’s wanted this for seven months and it was over in as many seconds. He groans faintly from atop and strength vanishes from his neck; forehead resting against yours as he empties himself into you. Muttering indecipherable nonsense

“I'm so sorry,” he murmurs, clearly embarrassed. 

You’ve grown rather engrossed in the lewd display above you and you find yourself smiling, head shaking sweetly. “Not at all.”

He kisses the underside of your jaw and the crown of your head tilts backwards, exposing the full length of your throat to him. His mouth linger on the base of it and you begin to speak, your words vibrating against his lips.

“Well,” you pause. “I think…”

“Mhm?” he hums, head lifting to look you in the face.

“I think you should stay the night,” you start, eyes honing in on his, emphasising your severity. “And I think you should make it up to me.”

Who was he to object such a request?

“Yeah?” he smiles lazily, speaking softly between the close distance. “Lead me to your room.”

And who were you to object such a request?

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water. 

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky. 

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer. 

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him. 

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down. 

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore. 

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets. 

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting. 

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him. 

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further. 

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late. 

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water. 

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy. 

By the time he’d placed you on the couch,  Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead. 

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily. 

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you. 

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together. 

Now what? 

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too. 

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming. 

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.” 

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat. 

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.” 

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone. 

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short. 

“There’s nothing here -”  he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched. 

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.” 

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm. 

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin. 

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe. 

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky. 

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold. 

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off. 

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth. 

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered. 

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed. 

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders. 

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him. 

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement. 

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well. 

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof. 

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention. 

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue. 

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -” 

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.” 

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing. 

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.” 

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right. 

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted. 

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye. 

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.” 

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and - 

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold. 

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer. 

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours. 

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you. 

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.” 

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips. 

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing. 

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -” 

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow. 

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch? 

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer. 

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again. 

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was? 

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent. 

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered. 

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face. 

“You cracked the ice?” 

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.” 

“Oh -” and then you laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement. 

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight. 

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken. 

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door. 

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.” 

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.” 

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette. 

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.” 

“No, you’re not dead, but -” 

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words. 

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with. 

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.” 

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going. 

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly. 

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense. 

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close. 

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks. 

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much. 

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup. 

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you. 

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door. 

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing. 

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge. 

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.” 

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.” 

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and - 

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -” 

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again. 

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point. 

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!” 

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist” 

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. 

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles. 

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation. 

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

[broodybuck]

Title: Through Your Window

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, masturbation, horny Bucky Barnes, stalker Bucky Barnes, pining, couch sex, Inspired by You (TV 2018)

Summary: Bucky finds a new muse from his window and it's you. He's captivated from the first moment he sees you but can't imagine he could ever have you.

[ao3 link]

He tries not to stare but he's been trained to observe. To hide in the shadows and watch. He's partially hidden behind the curtain of his window but he should conceal himself fully if he wants to keep his eyes on you.

You're not looking, you're distracted, treading around the apartment while collecting items here and there. You are across the alleyway in the building opposite his. It feels like a cruel gift. You're right in his view, he doesn't even need to strain to see you. He merely needs to walk to his window and watch.

Today, you're cleaning clutter from your living room. To put these items away means that you're bending down, arching at your hips, reaching over your head. It's allowing him to see every curve on you, especially with the sheer blouse and tight jeans you're wearing.

Why would you wear that, Bucky wonders. To entice him... that shirt is so sheer, he can see your bra. It's light pink and lacy. He licks his lips staring at it. His skin burns. He can't move. He's frozen, fixated on you until you walk out of his line of sight away from the windows. He sighs quietly to himself.

This is unfair, he decides. He hasn't looked at a woman since he's gotten free. Now, he found you. Your apartment is perfectly visible from his kitchen window. You, who leaves your blinds open at all hours of the day and walks around with those hips, those breasts.

He's hard. He's avoided getting turned on until now. A loud crash breaks Bucky from his trance. He looks down to realize he broke the coffee mug in his hand, causing half of the cup to smash onto the floor.

Fuck it, he needs to jerk off.

Putting his hand on himself feels like an ocean of relief but a wave of immense shame washes over him too. Because he hasn't retreated to the bedroom, he's pressing himself into the wall of his kitchen to keep the window still in view. So he can still see you as you walk back into the living room.

God, you're beautiful. He wants to touch you. He wants so many things he's not allowed. And yet, he's furiously jerking off to the thought of it all. Watching your every move, pumping himself harder and harder.

He's deplorable. He shouldn't be doing this. But it feels like he can't breathe until he's done. Splattering the wall in his release, breathing raggedly, forehead pressing against the window frame.

At least, you'll never know.

After careful consideration, Bucky decides that fantasies are okay. They are harmless and hence, why he's allowing himself to watch you across the way and touch himself whenever he needs to. Which is a lot, by the way, probably too much. But it's not hurting anyone.

After a week, Bucky has learned many things about you. How you like your coffee, your favorite food. You don't have many friends over, you don't go out often. You work at home from your laptop. Thankfully, at a desk placed in your living room where Bucky has a perfect view of you. He loves your little face of concentration. Sometimes, you bite your lip and as cute as it is, it makes him so hard he has to get off every time you do it.

He's counted the floors and windows and figured out which apartment you live in. He knows it sounds creepy, but he's not planning to break in. He just wanted to learn your name. He learns it when he sneaks into your building and finds your mailbox downstairs. Then, looks you up with a quick Google search. Now he can scream y/n every time he comes.

That's all he wanted, a little more for his fantasies. For his little treat every day. He doesn't have much else except therapy and working at the bodega down the street. So, he's letting himself have this. He's letting himself have you.

Except, he can't just stop at your name. He wants to learn everything about you. He wants his fantasies to feel real. So he goes through your mail. He finds your credit card bill and takes pictures before perfectly sealing the envelopes back up and returning them to your mailbox.

He now knows what stores you shop at, what restaurants you eat at, the bookstore you occasionally frequent. And he begins going to all these places too. On his own, of course. He likes just knowing you were there, wondering what you picked off the menu or which book you chose.

Unfortunately, this is precisely what leads to him accidentally running into you. Literally. He turns around with his coffee to-go cup and bangs into you, spilling his coffee all over one of your too-thin blouses.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bucky jumps for napkins.

His impulse is to help clean the spill himself but it's all over your chest, more specifically your breasts. His hands stop mid-motion, reaching the napkins toward you.

You accept the napkins shyly.

"It's okay," you tell him as you start dabbing your wet shirt.

Since the coffee soaked through your shirt, Bucky can see too much of the outline of your breasts. He averts his gaze. When you look back up at him, he eventually meets your eyes again. Now he can see the distinct specks of color in your eyes.

"I feel terrible. Can I get you a new shirt?" Bucky offers.

You pause, your mouth quirking into a smile.

"A new shirt?"

"Please, I'll pay for a new one or something," Bucky urges.

"How about you just buy me a coffee and we'll be even," you suggest.

"Of course."

He thinks he's safe. He survived the coffee incident and left shortly after buying you a drink. He thought it was done. Then he ran into you again.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise since he's frequenting all your favorite places. But this one is all his fault because he went back to your building and you caught him in the mailroom. Luckily, he was empty-handed but you still recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you coffee-spilling-guy?" you smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again... about that."

"I'm just teasing. I didn't know you lived here."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I was actually visiting a friend," he lies.

"Oh, and getting their mail?"

He winces, you're too smart for him to trick, and already being this close to you again is doing bad things to him. Now that you're not covered in coffee, there's nothing masking the smell of your perfume. It's floral and too sweet. He wants to lick your neck.

When he doesn't answer, you fill in the silence.

"It's none of my business. I'm y/n by the way, I don't think we exchanged names."

You put out your hand and he looks oddly terrified of your palm but he manages to shake your hand briefly before informing you his name is "Bucky".

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Bucky."

"Yeah, maybe."

You smile at him and he gives you half of one back. Then he nods, shuffling out of the mailroom and out the front door.

He needs to stop going out, Bucky decides. He can't risk running into you. He's already encountered two close calls — both too close for his liking.

The window is safe, so the window is where he'll stay. He's standing a few feet back watching you work today. He's already been here an hour.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your arms then you head into the kitchen and come back with a cup of water. You walk it over to the window sill and pour some water into a plant sitting on the ledge.

Then, you pause and slowly your eyes lift up. You look right through the window at Bucky watching you.

Bucky can't breathe in a terrible way. It's far too late to duck but he does so anyway.

He's been caught. Now he can never watch you again.

The worst thing happens two days later. Bucky is only outside because of his weekly therapy appointment. He's walking home, avoiding all your favorite spots, but you still manage to run into him.

This time from across the street. You see him first and it takes a second for him to notice you and then stop dead in his tracks, looking afraid to move.

You hurry over to him and he looks so tense, you're nervous to get too close.

"Hey, funny running into you again."

"I live over there," he points defensively.

"I know," you smile. "I saw you."

"I wasn't trying to stare, I..."

"I'm not mad. You were just looking out your window. It's not like that's a crime," you laugh. "You know, if you weren't so attractive, I'd probably be more freaked out."

Bucky visibly gulps. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "Hoping the feeling is mutual."

His eyes go wide, your face blushes in response.

"Sorry, that was too forward," you apologize.

"The feeling is very mutual," he responds low. It sends a vibration down your spine.

"You know, we keep running into each other. Maybe the universe wants us to have coffee together. I have some up at my place."

"Oh," he hesitates.

"Maybe you could spill some on me," you tease.

He laughs, thankfully, getting the joke. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd love a coffee," he says.

The coffee is a move. That should've been obvious but Bucky didn't realize how weak he'd be the second you made one. Because after you set the coffee cup down in front of him, you just lean over and kiss him.

Bucky's not sure how to describe the feeling of all his fantasies coming true. How many times had he imagined your lips, exactly what they'd feel like, taste like? They're perfect. Far better than he could dream.

He knew this wouldn't be good if he ever got this. Got you. He knew he'd lose all sense of control and he eagerly leans back in, kissing you more forcefully. You moan against his lips and that sends a shudder through him.

"Be honest," you draw back to say. "Were you watching me through the window?"

"Yes," he admits huskily. He waits expecting you to pull away but you lie down on the couch and pull him with you by the collar of his shirt.

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, hovering over you.

You shake your head, dragging him down to your lips and kissing him again.

Bucky has one mind to tell you how long he's been watching you, fantasizing about you, dying to have you. But he knows that won't sound sane. Besides, you're currently rolling your hips up into his groin which is making his head spin.

He groans and lets his weight crush yours so your bodies fall flush. You immediately start grinding up into him which drives him crazy.

He hasn't done this in a while but his instincts take over and he moves with you, sucking at the skin on your neck while you moan and play with his hair. Your fingers feel like silk, lacing through his brown locks and down his neck. He shivers, kissing you.

Bucky reaches down and slips his hand under your skirt. He gasps when he feels how soaked your underwear is.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he growls, the thought alone makes him feral.

You nod as he pushes the fabric aside to tease you. You arch back, sucking in a sharp breath with a smile.

"I've seen you—" you pant. "Watching me— for weeks."

Bucky's eyes go wide. His hand pauses.

"And once," you continue, eyes locked with his. "I saw your eyes closed and your face — you were coming, I realized."

He swallows pulling his hand back but you grab his wrist, keeping him there.

"You were getting off. I couldn't believe the hot guy watching me was that turned on just from looking at me. You couldn't even control yourself."

Bucky closes his eyes. "I have no restraint with you."

"Good," you grin and reach for the belt of his pants, unbuckling the strap, then pulling the fly open.

When you grab his cock, he groans loud. He's so hard in your hand, you lick your lips hungrily. You tug him forward and he moves in between your legs, taking hold of himself so you let go.

Then he pushes inside of you in one, easy glide. He stops, breathing heavily over you with his eyes closed. You frame his face.

"Wanna see you make that face again," you purr.

"Fuck, y/n," he rasps.

He rocks his hips into you and ramps up to an earnest pace.

"Oh fuck," you whine, grabbing onto him tighter. He buries his face in your neck, turning to speak roughly in your ear.

"When you come, I'm not gonna forget your face. It'll be all I dream about now."

"How're you so sure I'll come," you try to dare but you're already getting way too close with the way he's ramming into you.

He slows his pace and sits back to glare at you. You bite your lip as he hooks your thighs and pulls you closer, forcing himself deeper inside you.

He doesn't say anything just spreads your thighs apart, pressing them down into the cushions, and fucks you harder than before. His one hand finds your clit and he starts making circles with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back. There's no doubt you're gonna come. You moan out, gripping the armrest behind you.

"Bucky, please," you pant.

He presses forward, cradles your body to turn you both on your sides, and holds you against his chest now. Your thighs are hiked up as high as they can go. The new angle makes you cry out with every new thrust and he's somehow gaining more fervor, fucking you even harder until your thighs start trembling.

He doesn't stop until your orgasm crashes over you like hot lava, melting you from the inside and pouring over every inch of you. You scream into his chest while he keeps fucking you through it.

You're gasping, trying to breathe through the rapture while feeling how sensitive you are around his cock still slamming into you.

You're slurring something, but you're not even sure if you're telling him to stop or keep going. Your eyes roll back again, every inch of you won't stop vibrating, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

Then he slams into you hard and stops abruptly, fully buried inside you. The groan he makes sounds almost painful. His eyes are squeezed shut again, you recognize the expression he makes. You flush hot as you watch him come.

You both sit in the sounds of your labored breathing. You're still wrapped around him, he's still inside you.

"It was better up close," you whisper cheekily, carding a few fingers through his hair.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you with so much intensity that your hand freezes in his hair, you're scared to speak.

"I'd watch you make that face every day if you'd let me."

"You just wanna watch?" you grin.

He shakes his head, then pauses to reconsider it, then shakes his head again.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That could be hot to roleplay it."

"Roleplay... what?"

"Our story," you smirk. "I'll get myself off while you stand against the window, watching me."

He breathes in shakily, already too turned on by the idea.

"You have no idea how bad you are for me," he gravels.

"Bad for you?" you laugh.

"I have no control around you."

"Good," you tell him, brushing his hair back. "I don't want you to."

[lokisbirdofhermes]

Good Girl (5/16/15): You are a stage actress that met Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes during a production of August Wilson's Seven Guitars and have been good friends ever since. You get a part in an upcoming play that you're excited about, but then they cast an extremely handsome, hunky actor to be your love interest and you discover that the love scene the two of you will film contains one of your hidden kinks. Too flustered to properly rehearse it with the hunky actor, you approach Bucky with an odd request: will he help you practice the love scene so you don't get flustered when it's time to rehearse with the hunk actor? Bucky agrees, but as you start to practice, you and Bucky's natural sexual chemistry is brought to light and maybe there is another solution to the problem altogether. Post FATWS, but pre Thunderbolts BuckyReader AU. Based on a silly Booktok trend.

White Wolf's Bane Masterlist - Bucky/Reader and Bucky/OFC Series by BirdOfHermes (LokisBirdofHermes)

So I know that I only post my Loki/Reader and Thor/Reader content to this blog, but I felt like I'd be missing out by not posting my Bucky/Reader and Bucky/Original Female Character series here for people to find on their own as well. I'm not sure if people are sharing my Bucky/Reader fics on Tumblr the way they do my Harry/Murphy or Loki and Thor/Reader content, so I'll just dump it here just in case.

This is in chronological order of when I posted them. I'll reblog with updates and new links as I write and post more content.

White Wolf's Bane series page

Anchor: You are the lead agent for a SHIELD tactical unit and you've run several missions with James "Bucky" Barnes, but something awful happens and you're the only one who can help him. Bucky realizes he's not as okay as he thought he was and decides to seek some solace by becoming your friend. And maybe more. Pre Falcon and the Winter Soldier series AU.

The Winter Suitor: In this modern world, Mr. Bucky Barnes is a little behind the times, so he asks you to help him navigate the world of online dating. He's a regular at your diner and so he drops by to get tips on the best way to woo a lady of interest. Turns out, though, maybe you're both wooing someone a little closer to home.

Based on a line from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier show about Bucky trying online dating.

Kick It Up a Notch: You are a SHIELD Agent working with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes on an assignment to bring down a Russian arms dealer named Claudia Petrov. You're undercover as the Winter Soldier's new handler, but the arms dealer decides she wants a piece of him in a way that has nothing to do with assassinations. Needless to say, you're unamused and things quickly kick themselves up a notch as you deal with the fallout of her "request." Post Endgame, pre Falcon and the Winter Soldier series AU.

One Size Fits All: You are a SHIELD field agent on assignment with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes to retrieve some stolen SHIELD technology at an illegal auction at a white tie event. Out of all the things that could go wrong, your SHIELD-issued disguise doesn't fit due to your shapely body, so you and Bucky are forced to come up with another plan to complete the mission. And as you do, you discover that maybe there is a little more to this partnership than you thought. Pre Falcon and Winter Soldier series.

Thursday Blues: You've come down with a rotten case of the Thursday Blues. Thankfully, it turns out the cure is one James "Bucky" Barnes. Bucky/Reader.

Avenging Angel: You're walking home one night in New York and the unthinkable happens--a mugger attacks you. Fortunately, you have an avenging angel in your corner in the form of one Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes. Bucky/Reader.

Comfortable: You're pretty sure you were the first SHIELD agent slash spy to ever say the words, “shit, I forgot my weighted blanket.”

In which you, a SHIELD agent working with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes on a mission in what remains of Sokovia, forgot to pack your weighted blanket and have anxiety and therefore cannot sleep without it, so Bucky comes up with an alternative solution. Pre Falcon and the Winter Soldier, post Endgame. Bucky/Reader.

El Tango de la Boda: You are a SHIELD agent who gets tapped for a mission with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes: attend a wedding and intercept the sale of an illicit item. The catch is the exchange is at the target's wedding, so you and Bucky have to pretend to be a married couple. And you both realize you're way too good at being a fake couple for some reason. Bucky/Reader one-shot.

The Cookout: Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes has been granted the highest honor: attending your family cookout. However, he knows the only way to be invited back is to make the potato salad properly, so you teach Bucky how to make it and then it's off to hang out with your family. Will Bucky fit in? Bucky/Black Female Reader.

I'm Just a Square in Social Circle: You are having an extremely hard time taking the next step in any of your romantic relationships. You're painfully shy and nervous when it comes to the physical stuff and after a third potential beau turns you down, you ask your close friend Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes for advice. And it turns out Bucky has an idea. Bucky/Reader.

Die Another Day: Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes has been kidnapped by ex-Hydra agents who want to turn him back into the Winter Soldier, but they're inside an unsanctioned zone for American agents. You're told that Bucky can't be rescued, but you're not about to sit on your ass and let them torture him, so you plan a rescue by yourself. Bucky/Reader.

Defrosting: You and Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes are working on an assignment in Siberia to stop a bunch of gun runners, but you fall through the ice on a frozen lake while chasing the suspects and nearly freeze to death. Bucky manages to get you out and, well, there's only one way to thaw you out before you catch hypothermia... Bucky/Reader.

300 Seconds: You are a SHIELD agent working alongside Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes to take down an incredibly elusive ex-Hydra arms dealer named Ivan Volkov. You receive a tip that Volkov will be at an exclusive BDSM club and it is vital that you secure evidence from his cell phone to arrest and convict him, meaning you need to distract him for exactly five minutes while his phone is being cloned. You and Bucky will pose as a dominant and submissive couple entertaining him for those vital five minutes, resulting in a drastic change in your partnership and relationship. Bucky/Reader.

Just When I Thought I'd Seen It All: Bucky's being dragged to one of Sam Wilson's legendary Halloween costume parties and begs you to go with him so he'll have someone to talk to. You begrudgingly agree to attend and are shocked to find out you and Bucky have chemistry both in and out of the office. Bucky/Reader.

Think Twice: You are a SHIELD agent who's been invited to a work Christmas party and so you beg your close friend, Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, to come along with you to keep you company. At the Christmas party, you find out there is a male coworker who is interested in you and suddenly, Bucky says a few things without thinking twice and your relationship is headed for a drastic change.

Kiss of Life: You are the personal assistant to one Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes--a top notch lawyer who works with veterans. Everything's going great...until one day you come in and find that Bucky is in trouble. It turns out your benevolent boss is actually an incubus whose usual "donors" have suddenly abandoned him, meaning he has to feed tonight or he'll die. And seeing as he doesn't have anyone else, you volunteer as tribute and things get complicated. Bucky/Reader AU.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained: You are a twenty-something who is good friends with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes and you have a secret that you've finally resolved to tell him: that you're still a virgin and you were wondering if he would consider being your first. It's a risk for your friendship, but you figure nothing ventured, nothing gained. Bucky/Reader, post FATWS.

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To: It's Valentine's Day and you're throwing yourself a pity party, but one Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes decides to crash said pity party and things get interesting. Bucky/Reader. Post Falcon and Winter Soldier.

Distracted: You are a SHIELD medic on mission with Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes and the worst happens--you're caught by a Hydra agent and nearly killed, but Bucky saves you at the last second. You're now left dealing with the trauma of almost dying and the last person you ever expected to console you comes to your aid. Bucky/Reader.

The Buffer: You are a SHIELD agent on an assignment with a team to bust Hydra bases and you get hit with an experimental gun that was powered by the Mind Stone, giving you accidental telepathy and empathy. Bucky offers to take care of you alone since he's got such tight control over his emotions, effectively becoming your emotional buffer until your SHIELD team finds the man who shot you and reverse-engineers an antidote to the telepathy. It's going to be a bumpy ride in the meantime. Bucky/Reader.

A Welcome Distraction: It's one of the worst cliches in all of fiction, but you're smack dab in the middle of it--you come home early from work one night to find your boyfriend cheating on you with another woman, so you head to a nearby bar to drink away your troubles. It turns out that's a bar where Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes is a regular, and he offers to help take your mind off your woes. Post Falcon and Winter Soldier. Bucky/Black Female Reader.

The Accountant: Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes is settling into life after the Flag Smashers and needs a little bit of help, which is where he meets you: a SHIELD accountant proficient with SHIELD's wonky printers in the copy room. You strike up a friendship that is going well until one day, a rather unusual circumstance makes you avoid Bucky for the foreseeable future. Will your friendship survive a little awkward thing like having a smoking hot wet dream about the sergeant? Bucky's POV.

Armed and Dangerous: You are a barista at a coffee shop where Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes begins to frequent. You're fascinated with the sight of him and that vibranium arm, being an engineer working on her masters' degree, but you're too nervous to approach him. Then one day, Sergeant Barnes decides to introduce himself. Two-shot BuckyReader.

Cry to Me: You go over to your boyfriend's place after leaving work early only to find out he's been cheating on you with a coworker. Distraught, you return home and your next door neighbor, Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, overhears you screaming at your ex-boyfriend over the phone. It turns out he's a bakery shop owner and offers to make you some sweets to help heal your broken heart and offers to teach you how to make sweets at home. You take him up on the offer and find that Bucky himself is sweeter than anything he makes in his shop. Baker Bucky/Reader AU.

Fractured: You are a former Black Widow who was broken free of the control after Natasha Romanov destroyed the program. You've been using your freedom to right the wrongs that the Black Widow program forced you to carry out, but one night you run into Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes on an op. You and he were part of a joint venture between the Black Widow program and Hydra to produce another Super Soldier through impregnation, but it never took. And this is the first time you've seen him since you both were freed from mind control, so there is a lot of trauma for two fractured people to get through together. Bucky/Asset Reader.

The Gentle Men: You, a PR rep for the Avengers, just went on yet another absolutely terrible date. Steve and Bucky are sympathetic to your troubles and offer to take you out themselves to show you a good time and to prove there are still gentlemen out there in the world. And things get even more interesting at the end of the night after you make a joke and find out both Avengers are more down bad for you than you thought. Bucky/Reader/Steve. Post Civil War, pre Infinity War AU.

A Cradle Song: You and Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes are happily married and have been for a couple of years. Bucky returns from a SHIELD mission with some food for thought--parenthood. He asks if you want to have a family someday. After careful consideration, you realize you'd love to have a baby with Bucky Barnes. Bucky/Reader babyfic.

Too Sweet: You are a SHIELD agent who regularly runs missions with Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes. One night after a mission, you get insomnia and can't sleep, so you go make some coffee, intending to bring some to Bucky, only to overhear in his quarters singing a love song and playing guitar. You are absolutely enraptured upon finding that Bucky Barnes has an excellent singing voice and can't resist sneaking back night after night to hear him sing. But maybe Bucky's feelings aren't as mysterious as you think they are...

Bucky/Reader songfic, slight AU.

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If you love Bucky/Reader fics, please give me a like or reblog! It would be much appreciated.

I also have a Ko-Fi. I accept fanfiction requests on a case by case basis. You can message me privately on here or on Ko-Fi to pitch a fic to me. Payment can be any amount, doesn't matter, but make sure you send it and get it approved before paying. Also, never mention Ko-Fi on AO3. If you do, you'll get us both banned.

Birdie loves you!

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: 

Biker!Bucky (who also happen to be your brothers best friend) fucking your thighs. 

TW: 18+ oral (fem receiving), pussy job, thigh job, virgin reader (Bucky is very into it), no piv No YN, Reader is referred to as Bug and is described as being plus size but there are no other physical descriptors. Takes place after Biker!Bucky comforts you when you get way too high. 

Things had shifted after that blessedly damned brownie but despite all the begging you’d done for Bucky to finally split you open and take you apart on his cock he was valiant in his efforts to take it slow. Slow somehow including licking into your mouth at the back of a movie theater while two knuckles deep, having you ride his thigh at the food truck festival, and spending countless hours in bed between your spread thighs. 

It’s where you are now, the soft cotton of Bucky’s bedspread dampening under your sweat soaked skin, his tongue working sinful circles over your swollen nub causing you to clench, almost painfully, down on the two fingers he’s currently working you open on. 

And jesus fuck there’s enough slick dripping past them and onto your thighs for him to drown in; he’d happily go that way, buried face first in the creamy mess you’ve left just for him. 

Alternatively you could just smother him with your thighs, fuck, your thighs- his brain feels like mush as he turns his head just enough to begin placing wet open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your right thigh, laving and nipping at each stretch mark as he moves across them, furthering wetting his face with you as he does so. He grunts as you pull particularly hard at his hair, arching your back and trying to redirect his mouth to your clit but he ignores you as he begins to lick long stripes across the meat of your thighs, tasting musk and salt and something unconventionally sweet. 

This could be the day, he thinks, your mewls going straight to his dick. He could finally fuck you open, carve out that space inside he now knows you’ve been saving just for him, claim you but- 

“Bu-u-ucky!” Your whine sounds nearly petulant, still wiggling to try and get his mouth back on you, “please!” But no, no  you’re not ready yet. 

Instead he sits back on his haunches, watching for a moment as his fingers disappear and reappear as he fucks you with them, each thrust a little harder than the last before his hands find their way up your body, spreading slick across the ample swell of your stomach before he’s cupping your face and half pulling your upper body off the bed to meet him in a filthy open mouthed kiss. 

“Let’s try something new, Bug.” 

You release a soft oomph as he pushes you back on the bed with little ceremony, back flat. You rub your thighs together in sweet anticipation, the sound of his belt buckle coming undone making you whimper, this could be it, this could be it, this could be- 

But no, instead of pressing the spongy head of his cock inside of you he uses it to circle your clit, thumb guiding it around and around before he begins to languidly thrust his cock through the messy lips of your gushing pussy. The flat length of it provides a friction like you’ve never felt before, your gasps and moans joining in with Bucky’s labored breathing each time the tip nudges your clit on each up stroke. After a few minutes of this, of clenching painfully around nothing, awareness only awarded to the pleasure he gives you and the pain he causes by leaving you empty inside, he pushes both of your thighs up to rest on your plush stomach and begins to fuck them. 

There’s no other way to describe it. Bucky is fucking your thighs, he’s gripping them painfully tight, pushing them together, and driving his length in and out between them, plenty lubricated by the slick that continues to escape you. The tip of his cock still manages to kiss your clit at each stroke. You're delirious with pleasure, keening and moaning and raking your nails down whatever bit of inked skin you can reach, and though his cock feels like heaven between your thighs it’s his voice that ultimately sends you over; 

“Fuck, Bug” he rasps “Fuck, Bug, you feel so good, my beautiful girl- my-Fuck”

His dark hair is limp against his forehead, plastered to it by his own sweat, and his mouth, that sinful mouth is still glistening with proof of his devotion to your pleasure as he continues to talk you through it.

“If it feels this good now just- fuck, just think about when I’ve got you stuffed full of my cock. Christ, I can’t wait, I’m going to fucking ruin you, Bug.” 

With one particularly hard nudge from the head of his cock to your clit you let go with a cry, something that vaguely sounds like his name and has him also reaching his end, painting the messy lips of your pussy white with his cum. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Could you maybe possibly do a Bucky X single mum reader? Maybe he doesn't know she's a mum thinks she's ghosting him and then bumps into her and said child or something maybe some angst smut fluff the whole shebang

Bucky was officially done with dating.

He had felt this quite a few times but never had he decided to put an end to dating in the modern day until now. Things had been going great, he didn't even think she would've accepted to go on a date with him yet she did and after that, there wasn't a single moment where he wasn't thinking of her or with her. She was sweet, smart and didn't seem to mind about his past as the Winter Soldier or the metal arm that was blatantly visible to anyone if he took his gloves off. He was finally happy, in a healthy relationship, or at least he thought so.

A week ago things had gone radio silent, there were no texts, he didn't see her at her usual coffee spot and whenever he tried calling, it would go to voice mail time and time again. It had finally hit him that she had just "ghosted" him as Sam called it. Maybe he was right, yet not in the common sense, instead he felt haunted. Haunted by her touch, by her memory and even by the stupid cookies she used to buy. The same stupid cookies he was staring at right now.

      - Can I get these? - a toddler jumped up and down next to him. It was a girl, at least Bucky thought it was a girl based on the high pitched voice. He only looked at the toddler when she pulled on the leg of his trouser, finally forcing him to look at her. - Sir, please can you pass me the cookies?

He shrugged, easily grabbing the box and handing it to the girl who went off running to the legs of a woman, a woman who looked too familiar, a woman who looked almost terrified when she saw Bucky. Honestly, Bucky wasn't even sure who was more terrified if her or him.

      - Bucky. - she said as she walked up to him. - Listen, I ...

      - That's fine. - he interrupted her. - You don't have to say hi to me.

      - No, I just ... I need to explain things.

      - I'd rather avoid the whole "it's not you, it's me" discussion. You know, you could've at least sent me a text instead of ghosting me.

      - Ghosting? No, no, you don't understand. I've been busy and ...

      - For a whole week? Clearly you're not busy enough to be perusing the supermarket.

      - Perusing? I'm just getting groceries, I forgot I couldn't if I didn't text you.

      - Oh so you do know how to text. - Bucky knew he was being mean now but he was hurt. There were may voices in his head which were making him feel like a loser, make him feel like just the Winter Soldier yet he also knew that was no reason to insult her so before he could say something he would regret, he walked away.

Technically, he had now ghosted her as well but she'd done it first so it wasn't as heavy in his mind. At least not as heavy as the idea that the girl he liked so much had suddenly stopped wanting to see him. Many things were going through his mind about what could've caused it, he didn't see another man with her at the store so it potentially wasn't one so his mind was forcing him to face the fact that he was probably the reason. Who would want to date a murderer, the Winter Soldier? No one.

      - Did you bring my milk? - Steve asked as he skimmed through the groceries. - Bucky?

      - I saw Y/N in the shop. - he sat down. - And I was a dick to her. Basically ran off with whatever I had in my cart.

      - Hold on. - Steve said as he sat next to him. - You saw her? What did you say?

      - Stupid shit.

Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky was his best friend, they had known each other since forever and he wasn't against taking his friend's side even if he knew he may be slightly wrong. Yet, in this case, he knew Bucky probably was acting out from hurt and that usually wasn't pretty or nice to hear. It was quite vicious actually, sometimes he forgot how vicious Bucky could be.

      - I don't know what you said but maybe you should apologise.

      - Probably. - he sighed. - Yet again I think she was getting ready to give me a pity speech and I'd rather not listen to it.

      - Do you like this girl? - Bucky stayed silent at this. Of course he liked her, she was all he could think about at night, she was the sun the moon and the stairs for all he cared. But she didn't want him, what else would be the reason for her to suddenly go cold on him. - You've lived for a whole century, Buck. Go talk to her and find out what it is instead of sulking.

(...)

Bucky already regretted this.

As he stood outside her apartment door, he wondered if he was a complete creep. He felt like one, waiting for someone to open the main door so he could get into the building with the sad flowers he'd bought hoping they would convince Y/N not to close the door in his face. Once more, he stared at the golden number on her door before sighing and knocking. He heard quick footsteps before the door knob was slowly twisted and the door opened. The same toddler who he had seen in the market opened the door.

      - Hi! - she said looking at him as if he was her oldest friend.

      - Uh ... Is Y/N here?

      - Meredith, who are you talking you? - he heard Y/N's voice echo through the apartment until she appeared at the door. - Bucky.

      - Hi. - he cleared his throat.

      - Mere, go inside. - Y/N ushered her daughter back inside, closing the door behind her.

Bucky stared at Y/N in both awe and confusion. Who was that toddler? Was it hers? She did look a look like Y/N and he had seen both of them at the supermarket as well. Did Y/N have a kid?

      - She's mine. - Y/N said noticing the doubt on his face. - I had her senior year of college. She's 4.

      - Why ... uh ....

      - She's 4, she doesn't really understand relationships and I don't want to bring anyone into her life that may leave. I also usually struggle to date when I tell guys I have a 4 year old ... I should've told you, I'm sorry.

      - And the ghosting?

      - I wasn't ghosting. - she crossed her arms. - Mere had the chicken pox and I had to stay home with her. I was gonna text you but I thought this ... this would be a better conversation to have in person.

      - Ah ... - he scratched the back of his neck. - I was an asshole at the supermarket, wasn't I?

      - That depends ... are those flowers for me? - she smirked.

      - Yes. - he extended his arm towards her handing her the flowers. Marigolds, her favourite. - They look a bit sad though.

      - They look perfect. - she smiled at him. - Wanna come in?

(...)

Bucky stirred awake in the couch as he heard a soft rustling following by breathing. He peaked his eye open to see Meredith staring at him with wide eyes before she poked his cheek with her finger.

      - Mr. Bucky? Can you make me pancakes?

He could get used to this.

[dumbgothbunny]

If this ain't a "just the tip, Doll. Scouts honor" lookin mf

[ms-nesbit]

im going to give two options for fic drops, and you decide which you prefer.

(options are seen below)

option one:

Bucky perched atop the abandoned building, hiding his shadow among the darkness of the twilight night. In the cold hours, when the birds lay their heads to rest, and devils rise from the dead, his left shoulder ached from the contact of the vibranium arm. Nevertheless, the tension in his shoulder came second to the bitter breeze stabbing his cheeks, despite the facial hair he grew solely for warm sustenance. Yet, as he sat perched along the flat overhang of the building, his combat boots pressed hard against the large concrete blocks below him, Bucky’s focus drifted from his task (which was, simply put, to observe the relation of the mob crime scene along Midtown), the dishes left waiting for him back in his quaint studio in Harlem, the bitter cold that hit so much more in late February, and her.

option two:

...

As Matthew stepped through the streets, one block after another, he encountered a pleasant concoction of jasmine, vanilla, and bergamot that he couldn’t shake off. So, Matthew pursued it, leading him to an outdoor seating area of a Greek restaurant. There, he heard a roar of laughter, followed by a hiccup, all from a single person. He grinned to himself as he listened ...

[nikkirimizi]

Please Don't Leave (Not Yet) (Bucky/Reader) 🌨

Summary: It could have been any ailment. A migraine, a cold, a flu, or even just stress, an overactive brain. There was no telling as to what it could've been. All they knew was a flushed face, aches, and the overwhelming feeling of dread every time they got sick. Out of everything, they knew to always leave everyone around them out of it. Don't get anyone involved in their illnesses, mental nor physical, and everything would be alright.

Rating: Teen and up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62592691

[seishuswife]

Three Times Feelings Went Unspoken, and the One Time It Was (Bucky/Reader)

Cross-Posted on my AO3

[Main Masterlist] | [Marvel Masterlist]

Probably my favorite trope, wrote this one so long ago tho!

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff

++The First Attempt++

Bucky Barnes paced back and forth in his room, rehearsing the words he wanted to say to Y/n, his heart pounding with nerves. He had developed strong feelings for her, but every time he tried to confess, his tongue would tie itself into knots. Tonight was going to be different.

As the team gathered for a casual movie night, Bucky found himself sitting next to Y/n, their shoulders occasionally brushing against each other. Gathering his courage, he turned towards her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/n, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," he stammered, his palms sweating. But before he could continue, his mind went blank, and his words failed him. Y/n looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue, but all he could manage was a weak smile with a slight shake of his head and turned his attention back to the screen.

++The Second Attempt++

A week passed, and Bucky couldn't stop thinking about his missed opportunity. Determined not to let his nerves get the best of him, he invited Y/n to a quiet coffee shop. As they sat across from each other, sipping their drinks, Bucky took a deep breath.

"Y/n, I... I've been wanting to tell you something," he began, his voice trembling slightly. But once again, his anxiety overpowered him, and he stumbled over his words. Y/n leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern.

"Bucky, take your time. I'm here for you," she reassured him. He managed a small smile, grateful for her understanding, but disappointment weighed heavily on his heart.

++The Third Attempt++

Bucky decided to take a more casual approach for his third attempt. He invited Y/n for a walk in the park, hoping the relaxed setting would ease his nerves. As they strolled together, admiring the scenery, Bucky mustered up his courage:

"Y/n, you know you mean a lot to me, right?" he asked, his voice sounding more confident. Y/n nodded, a gentle smile on her face, encouraging him to continue. However, just as the words were about to leave his lips, his fear gripped him once more, rendering him speechless. Instead, he settled for a sigh, small smile, and yet another slight shake of his head, feeling even more frustrated with himself.

++The Fourth and Final Attempt++

Time passed, and Bucky couldn't escape his feelings for Y/n. He knew he couldn't keep hiding them forever. Seeking advice, he turned to his best friend, who listened patiently.

"Buck, sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith," Steve said, giving Bucky a reassuring pat on the back. Emboldened by his friend's words, Bucky decided it was time to make his final attempt.

He invited Y/n to a quiet rooftop, their favorite spot to watch the city lights. As they sat side by side, Bucky took her hand, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/n, I've been trying to tell you something for a while now, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself any longer," he confessed, his voice steady and determined.

Y/n's eyes widened with anticipation as she squeezed his hand. "Bucky, what is it?" she asked softly.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky looked into her eyes and finally let his feelings flow. "I'm in love with you, Y/n. You're the most incredible person I've ever known, and I can't imagine my life without you. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just need to be honest with you."

Silence enveloped them as Y/n processed Bucky's confession. Slowly, a smile crept onto her lips, and she reached out to cup his cheek. "Bucky, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear those words," she whispered, her voice filled with affection. Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat.

"You... You feel the same way?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Y/n nodded, her eyes shining with joy. "Yes, Bucky. I've been falling for you too, but I was too afraid to say anything. I'm glad you finally did."

Relief and happiness flooded Bucky's heart as he leaned in, capturing Y/n's lips in a tender, long-awaited kiss. In that moment, all the failed attempts and nervousness faded away, replaced by the warmth of their happy love.

[22moths-in-a-trenchcoat]

horny bucky thought:

Mafia boss!Bucky playing a game of poker with his men and getting more and more annoyed as the night progresses, and realising he needs a good luck charm.

He sets you down on his lap at first but even though his luck improves, it’s not improving fast enough for his liking. When you grind down on his lap to tease him, he decides to punish you by pulling your underwear to the side, putting his hard cock inside you and just letting you warm it as he continues playing. The others have to sit there and also play while pretending nothing weird is happening.

His luck improves instantly.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Nothing But Your T-Shirt | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One Shot 1.7k

Natasha dares you to steal one of Bucky's shirts during a drunken sleepover. Natasha is definitely up to something, but maybe revealing your secrets isn't such a bad idea...

Warnings: 18+ for language, sleepover antics, fluff, kissing and suggestive situations. Rated F for fluff and T for tower fic.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Wanda opened the door of the penthouse with a squeal of excitement.

"Oh my god, you came! Yay! Come in, come in!" She ushered you inside enthusiastically, a large pina colada in one hand, your fingers in the other.

"Hey," Natasha waved from the comfort of the conversation pit, pillows and blankets draped about.

Pepper emerged from behind the bar with a tray of glasses, snacks and a huge smile. "Hi, how are you? Come and get comfortable."

You'd been an Agent level member of the Avengers for a month now. Accompanying them on a few missions and attending briefings. So when Tony declared it was 'boys night' and he was taking the male contingent to a new restaurant, Pepper had rolled her eyes and insisted that you, Wanda and Natasha join her for cocktails in the penthouse.

You were shocked at being included, but Wanda and Natasha had been so welcoming when you'd joined them for a mission the week before that you managed to tamp down your nerves enough to say yes.

Pepper handed out the drinks and insisted of getting your specific order for both pizza and desert before sitting down and finally looking you over. She was a constant presence when you were in the New York Avengers Tower, powerful and confident, always smartly turned out in heels that rivaled the tower itself in height. And you'd always been too nervous to talk to her.

Suddenly you felt hot under the over sized floor lamps.

"So," Pepper grinned, an uncharacteristic move that had you even further on edge. "Natasha tells me you have a crush on Barnes."

You choked on your drink.

"What?"

"Don't play coy," Natasha purred, I've seen the way you look at him, she winked and you couldn't help but laugh.

Wanda giggled around her straw, nodding in agreement. "You do, you're always fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"I do not!"

"Fine, fine," Pepper held her hands up, "if you're not ready to spill, lets do something else. I got my aesthetician to send me some new facial samples, want to try?"

Natasha looked pointedly over the rim of her glass, "this isn't like the egg thing is it because I don't want to put anything up my-"

"Natasha! No!" Pepper cut her off as she crossed the vast room, "behave, I'll be back soon."

Four more pina coladas and a face mask later, you were a lot more relaxed. Lying on one side of the sofa with your arms behind your head, eyes drifting closed until a foot poked you in the side.

"You sleeping?" Wanda whispered with a giggle.

"I think so," your own giggle bubbled up, inhibitions lowered by the drinks.

"Did you bring pyjamas? I have three guest rooms or we can sleep out here." Pepper's voice was excited, higher pitched than you'd ever heard it, the professional edge gone.

The others had already changed before you arrived, but you'd had to travel across town from your apartment and hadn't exactly wanted to get a cab in your nightwear. Looking at them now they were all so similar, matching even in their differences. All in over sized t-shirts. Pepper's had a joke on about electrons. Wanda's was deep red with 'Avengers Tech Institute' printed on the left side. And you were fairly sure Natasha's belonged to Steve, it fell on her shoulders in such a graceful way, showing off her collarbone. They all looked so effortlessly beautiful and, despite the fact you were over dressed, you wilted again.

It'd been so nice to be included and now you felt different again, outside. They all had their partner's shirts on, and you had…red plaid with a tea stain on.

The silence was loud until Natasha sat up, a cheeky grin appearing as she said, "I dare you to get one of James' t-shirts."

"Nat, no, come on." You could feel embarrassment heating you again. Hadn't they decided to ignore this line of questioning?

"Yes! Do it, do it!" Wanda agreed, jumping up and clapping her hands together.

"Officially I feel like I need to put a stop to this, I can't have you breaking in to someone's private rooms."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and glared at Pepper who rolled her eyes in return.

"But unofficially I'm going to go to the bar and whatever you three do while I'm not looking, isn't my fault." She held her hands up and pointedly turned away while Natasha and Wanda fixed you in their sights.

"I couldn't!"

"You know you want to, you likeeee himmm." Wanda sang obnoxiously, poking you again.

"You can, I'll help you." Natasha said, very seriously, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the elevator and leaving you with no choice.

You should probably have been concerned over just how quickly Natasha managed to break into Barnes' rooms. You couldn't think of him as Bucky, or even James as Natasha called him. Not when you were stood looking at his unmade bed, the clothes on the back of the chair and the wobbling stack of books on his bedside table.

He'd left a cookie and a half drunk cup of coffee on the other side where the pillows were propped up against the headboard and a well worn copy of Lord of the Rings was face down in the sheets.

You'd only been close to Barnes a few times, but he always smelt so wonderful, a heady mix of clean vanilla and spice. Soft and welcoming with some deeper thread that made you want to press your nose into the soft crook of his neck and just inhale.

"Quick, pick something he won't notice is gone." Wanda whispered, pulling drawers open in the dark.

"No, no, this!" Natasha held up Barnes' signature henley, ox blood red and so soft. It had frayed around the neck from wear and the cotton was slightly stretched. He wore it almost constantly, despite Steve buying his a petrol blue one for Christmas.

Natasha closed the lid of his laundry basket again and chucked it over to you.

It had that same vanilla scent and, though it also had a hint of sweat, you couldn't help the urge to press it to your face.

"Come on, put it on." Natasha urged, pulling on your tank top to lift it over your head.

The henley was as soft as it looked and, in the brief moment it covered your face, you allowed yourself the inhale that you craved. Bucky, all Bucky.

Getting it over your boobs proved a slight struggle. But once it was settled it hugged them snuggly, allowing your cleavage to peep through the unbuttoned front. It stretched at the hips too and was oddly flattering when you looked into the mirror by the door.

"That actually really suits you."

Natasha nodded in agreement and then paused, completely still.

"Fuck, quick." She ran for the balcony, dragging Wanda with her and you turned in confusion only to be met with light in the hallway and one Sergeant James Barnes, stood stock still in the doorway of his own bedroom, staring at you.

"Sergeant Barnes I -" you struggled to find an excuse, was there really ever an excuse to break into someones bedroom and try on their clothes? Instead you looked away, wondering whether to rip the henley off and try to find your top instead, or whether to try and escape past him.

He licked his lips and paused, carefully choosing his next words, but your name slipped out, unbidden.

Your eyes snapped up to his.

"That shirt looks good on you," his voice was rough when he spoke, like he was holding something back and your body flushed with heat.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, Natasha -"

He gave a low, dark, laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure it's entirely her fault. But you - " He took a step forward and your breath caught in your throat.

"I'll give it back -"

"Please, keep it on." He approached slowly, as if trying to befriend a wild animal that could run at any time.

"I'm sorry -"

He was right in front of you now, still in the suit Tony had insisted he wear, although his bow tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and the first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, showing a flash of his skin underneath.

"Is Natasha right?" He asked, slowly backing you towards the wall. Each step was calculated. When you staggered back, his left hand curled around your waist to steady you.

"Uhm-" your eyes flicked down to his parted lips and back to his eyes.

"She said she knew a secret, she shared it with me," he watched your every move, carefully leaning you back against his bedroom wall. The hand on your waist tightened, the other toyed with his shirt, still wrapped so closely around your body.

You heaved in a breath and his eyes dropped to your cleavage before lifting to your face. "I'm glad I came back, been dying to see you. Imagine my surprise when I find you all wrapped up in my bedroom like a present."

"Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered and his leg slid between yours, pushing up against you. "What did Natasha tell you?"

"Always so formal, it's okay, I know, you can relax." He bent forwards, nose brushing against your cheek, lips at the shell of your ear.

You let out a shaky breath.

"She told me you have a little crush on me."

It's exactly what you'd imagined she'd said, and yet, the embarrassment was so acute already you thought you might pass out.

"Don't worry," his breath tickled the soft skin behind your ear making goosebumps rise along your arms. "I have a little crush on you too."

You could feel his smile on your cheek when he pressed a kiss there and then his lips were on yours, rough in their excitement, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down towards you, fingers in his hair.

"You can keep the t-shirt," he mumbled against your lips, "but can we lose the pjs?"

You giggled, nodding and broke away only when Wanda and Natasha started banging on the glass, cheering and whooping while you and Bucky smiled, with only eyes for each other.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Date Night

Pairing: dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky makes a big mistake.

Warnings: Angst, Language, yea sorry

Word Count: 1.7K

A/n: teehee whoops. im gonna have a ghost one coming out soon for you guys, and then maybe some more teddy bear picnic but we'll see

~*~

"Hey kid, wanna grab a beer and watch the game with your old man? Or are you too cool for that?"

You grin at your dad and slow your steps, glancing at the hockey game on TV.

"Where's Bucky? I thought he was your game night date? He finally realize hockey sucks?"

Your dad gives you an offended look then rolls his eyes playfully.

"Nah, he had to cancel last minute - he's got a hot date tonight."

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, unaware of the fact that those six words have flipped your night upside down and caused knots to form in your stomach.

You don't remember having plans with him tonight.

As casually as you can manage, you head into the kitchen, pulling out your phone and tapping a quick text over to the man in question.

'Not coming over tonight?'

It's read within the same minute, and then the telltale three dots pop up before his message spawns.

'Sorry baby, not feeling too hot.'

The knots in your gut are quickly crushed by the boulder that settles there, and you need to take a few careful breaths to stop yourself from crying in the middle of the kitchen.

~*~

"Everything okay, James?"

He huffs out a sigh and glances up from his phone, smiling weakly at the woman across from him.

"Listen, Dot... I can't tell you how grateful I am that you managed to make such a beautiful cake in such a short amount of time. And, while I'm flattered that you'd want to go out for dinner, I had you make that cake for a woman who means... quite a bit to me. I don't want to make things awkward but I do want you to know that I'm out with you tonight as a friend and nothing more."

The woman across from him blinks blankly a few times, then takes a sip of her martini, stands up, and leaves the table.

Bucky watches helplessly as she leaves the restaurant without another word, dropping his head back for a moment as he feels onlookers stare.

It takes a few minutes for the waitress to come back, but by the time she does, he's got a wad of cash ready for her and his keys in hand.

He all but runs out of the restaurant, a new lightness in his shoulders like a weight has been lifted from his chest.

Immediately, he grabs his phone and shoots a quick text off to your dad.

'Room for one more?'

It takes a few minutes for your dad to respond, which Bucky uses to put on his helmet and straddle his bike.

'Date not going well?'

Bucky chuckles softly.

'Something like that. I'll be there in five.'

He swipes out of the conversation with your dad and then clicks on the only pinned conversation on his phone.

'I'm feeling a bit better now, gonna pop by for a bit.'

With that, he locks his phone and brings his bike to life, eager to be in your presence again.

Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your pity party, and you frown at the text on it.

You turn your phone off and drop it face-down on the carpet, ignoring this text the way you've ignored the last three from him.

You can hear him downstairs chatting with your dad as if he's done nothing wrong. As if he wasn't out with another woman less than an hour ago.

Grinding your teeth together, you decide that enough is enough, and it's time for bed.

At the very moment you open your door to head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Bucky decides to raise his fist to knock.

Your eyes meet his and, for a moment, you forget that you're mad. You forget everything.

And then he opens his stupid mouth.

"Hey, what's with you tonight?" He asks gently, reaching forward to grab your hand.

You yank away from him and take a step back, levelling him with a steely glare.

"How was your date?"

You watch as he deflates, as his face falls and his shoulders slump forward the tiniest bit.

"Sweetheart, it's not what you think, I swear."

"Oh Jesus Christ," you murmur, pushing past him and heading downstairs to watch the game with your dad. At least down here he can't talk to you.

He can't try to justify him willingly going on a date with another woman.

Well, not until the game's over, at least. And it seems like it's only a few minutes before your dad is yawning, turning the TV off and heading upstairs to go to bed himself.

This leaves you alone in the living room with Bucky, tension building with every silent second that passes between the two of you.

"Honey, I had to," he finally whispers, breaking the silence.

You whip your head around, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

He holds his hands up, a desperate and pathetic attempt at pleading with you, begging you to hear him out.

"It was the only way for me to get your birthday cake. Dot is an old friend from high school and... she wanted a date as payment for the last-minute cake," he explains quietly.

You purse your lips, nodding as if it all makes sense now.

"Oh, I see! So, not only do you admit to forgetting my birthday, but you also agreed to go on a date with a woman who has had a thing for you since high school! Buck, that is so not okay on so many different levels!" You exclaim in a whisper.

The last thing you need is your dad overhearing any part of this conversation.

"I know. That's why I left. I told her I couldn't, that the cake was for someone important to me and that I was only having dinner with her as a friend."

You shake your head at him and rise to your feet, unable to stay still while he spews nothing but nonsense at you and expects you to forgive him.

"You shouldn't have even gotten me that cake if that's what she wanted as payment! You should've told her to stick it and then you literally could've gotten me a Starbucks cake pop. I don't need fancy cakes or expensive things, James, I thought you knew that." Your voice gradually loses its anger, disappointment and exhaustion taking its place.

"I know but... I wanted to do something special for you." He looks like a kicked puppy, and it takes a serious amount of self-control to hold on to your anger.

"My birthday was special. Even without the cake it still would've been special. Especially if I'd've known it would mean that you would be going on a date with another woman in order to get it."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he pleads, reaching for you again only for you to shake your head and step away.

"No, Bucky. Sorry doesn't fix this. Can you imagine if the roles were reversed? What if I had to go on a date with a guy who's been wanting me for over a decade just for the perfect steak? And then, what if I lied to you about it and you found out from my dad that I was out on a 'hot date'? A date with someone that the general public would deem more appropriate for me to be with? Someone who would fit me better. How would that make you feel?"

He stands there silently for a moment, fists clenched tightly as he imagines everything you just said.

He imagines you laughing on a date with another man, a young man, a man far more appropriate for you to be with. He imagines sitting waiting for you, only to find out that you're out getting hit on by some young punk who wouldn't know how to please a woman like you. His imagination runs wild, to the point where he can almost feel steam billowing from his ears, but all he says is

"Shitty."

"Shitty?" You laugh, "Try worthless. Embarrassed. Humiliated. At least that's how I felt. And-and maybe I'm just reading too deep into this. Maybe this 'exclusivity' that I thought we had is one-sided."

"It's not," he interrupts quickly, taking a step forward only to pause when you step back again.

"Maybe I just thought things were more serious than they were," you continue, eyes stuck on the ground as your thoughts spill out before your mind has a moment to realize what you're saying.

"They are serious-"

"Maybe we should just stop... whatever this is that we're doing."

Silence hangs heavily in the air when you finish speaking, and you feel tears sting at your eyes when he says nothing.

You count thirteen heartbeats before he finally says something.

"Is that what you really want?" He asks softly, his voice discouraged.

Slowly, you raise your eyes to his.

"What even are we?" You ask breathlessly, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "What are we doing?"

"You're my girl."

You sniffle and shake your head.

"No, I'm your dirty little secret, that's what I am. And I'm tired of it. I wanna be something you're proud of, not something you have to hide," you whisper, your chest aching with the weight of your confession.

Bucky's heart breaks at your words, and he wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and kiss away any insecurities you have in your relationship. If you can even call it that.

"I am proud of you, sweetheart, beyond proud. I can't even put into words how I feel about you," he whispers, desperate for you to understand just how much you mean to him.

"Why haven't you told my dad about us yet?"

The silence that follows your question is answer enough for you, and you nod.

"I... I think you should leave," you finally whisper, hugging yourself and keeping your gaze locked on the ground.

He stays rooted in place for a long moment, testing your resolve, waiting for you to break. When you don't, he takes slow steps toward the door, waiting, praying for you to change your mind.

But you stand firm.

Never able to deny you, he leaves you standing alone in your kitchen, your dad peacefully asleep upstairs while your entire life gets turned upside down.

[broodybuck]

Title: Broken Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, one-night stands, rough sex, plot what plot/porn without plot, no kissing rule

Summary: After you get dumped, you want to stick it to your ex with a no-strings-attached, filthy one-night stand. You find an attractive man sitting at the bar, he should do.

[ao3 link]

That's it, I'm having a one-night stand, you decide. You're adamant about the idea even though it's not typically your vibe. You like connection, you like relationships. But if your boyfriend can break up with you on your seven-month anniversary then you can have a fucking one-night stand.

You see him at the bar. The place is pretty dead since it's a Tuesday night so there are limited options. Still, you would label this guy as out of your league. Too hot for you. He has short brown hair, cheekbones straight out of Hollywood, and a sharp jawline to match. He's dressed in a tight leather jacket and dark jeans.

Normally, you wouldn't go for a guy like this. Because as much as you know your beauty, you're typically labeled in the cute category, the pretty category. But he's gorgeous, model-level.

You stride up to him as confidently as you can manage and claim the seat next to him. He lowers the drink from his mouth slowly, glancing over at you skeptically. He's probably wondering why you chose the barstool right next to him when there are about eight other ones open. To get in those tight pants of yours, you answer him in your mind.

You smile at him, glad you kept on the tight red dress that was meant for dinner with your ex tonight. He notices, his eyes scanning down as subtly as possible. You feel a flash of heat hit your cheeks. The thought of this stranger getting under your dress, having access to every inch of you, makes you feel insane and hot all over. But tonight is different. Tonight, you're having a one-stand stand with a handsome stranger.

You smooth your hand over the sleeve of his jacket. He tracks your movement like a hawk.

"What're you drinking?" you ask sweetly.

"Whiskey," he clears his throat.

He seems more thrown by this than you'd expect. You would have assumed he gets hit on constantly, has one-night stands by the plenty — wherever he cares to.

You signal the bartender over and order two shots. The man beside you keeps eyeing you quizzically. But when the shots arrive, he accepts the one you slide over to him. He downs the shot with you.

You smile, licking your lips as you mask the face you want to make from the bitterness burning your throat. He looks impressed. Good, you think, you're here to impress and get fucked.

"I've had a shitty night," you tell him. "Really looking for a distraction."

Your tone is hinting enough. His eyebrows lift with surprise. He turns his body toward you.

"Another?" he asks and you nod.

You both take another shot, then it feels much easier to ask if he lives nearby. He does and after staring him down, he invites you back.

He keeps a hand hovering over your lower back as you walk to his place. You only stumbled twice so it's really unnecessary but it's a sweet gesture, you suppose. He helps you up the stairs of his stoop by taking your hand. You thank him but remind yourself that tonight is meant to be dirty, quick — meaningless.

Inside his apartment, you decide another rule for tonight.

"No kissing," you tell him.

He looks so confused, it's honestly cute. The way his brows furrow so deeply and his mouth parts open. He looks like a lost puppy, begging to be kissed.

Stop it, you reprimand yourself. He's not cute. He's here to fuck you.

You march forward, grab onto his leather jacket, and yank it backward down his arms. He doesn't stop you, he seems aware of what's about to happen regardless of his prior confusion.

His face dips forward and then stops. He blinks, pressing his mouth tight, and you try to ignore the fact that he almost kissed you. Already. You move onto the belt of his jeans, prying it open along with the fly of his pants.

"Gonna make me do all the work?" you tease.

You yelp when he hooks your legs and instantly lifts you up in one quick motion. You wrap both arms around his neck and ignore your impulse to inhale his mouth hungrily.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down carefully on the bed. Your legs remain helpfully spread around his hips. He moves slowly now, more slowly than you'd like, as he glides both hands up your thighs. He pushes the hem of your dress up as he goes. This dress is so damn tight that it moves rigidly but he works it over your hips to reveal the lacy thong you're wearing.

He breathes in heavily, staring down at it. You flush warm again. He's so hot, you want him inside you. And you don't normally think something like that so quickly.

You reach out, instinctually moving to frame his face and drag him down into a kiss, but you stop yourself just in time. You still pull his face down but instead, move his mouth in between your thighs.

You hear him breathe sharply once more. Then he dives forward so quickly that you gasp when he tears the thin material of your thong with one hand. His mouth, his tongue, is on you the next moment. You suck in a moan, your thighs unintentionally squeezing together, but he holds them apart with his hands as his tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly. Next, he kisses it, mouths around your most sensitive area, and then sucks.

"Ooh god, yes," you cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

This was a damn good idea, you think, as you cry out again when he adds his thumb. Switching between his mouth and fingertip.

"Fuck, please," you pant.

He cruelly stops right then and sits back. The sight of his mouth glistening with your wetness makes you shiver. He reaches into his boxers and pulls himself out. He barely gives you a chance to get a good look before he's pushing inside of you.

His face hovers above yours as he bottoms out. He stares down at you, and you want to kiss him, but you need to stick to your dumb rule. This night means nothing, this night is only a fuck you to your ex.

He swallows, then his mouth stays open in a pout as he thrusts into you again. Your eyes squeeze shut, you grab onto him tightly.

Each thrust gains strength but he fucks you slowly. Ramming into you harder each time and stilling when he's buried inside of you as if for you to savor it. He's big which means each slam of his hips jolts you back on the bed and you feel yourself stretching to fit him each time.

His hands find your breasts now, cupping them in his hands, and his breath shakes. You find yourself amazed that he seems so taken with you. You're not sure your ex-boyfriend ever looked at you this way. Like you're an art piece he has to study, memorize.

He presses into you again. But this time when he draws back, he gives up the slow, hard pace and fucks you faster, steadily. It instantly makes your skin blaze, you pulse around him, your body hungry for him.

He groans, feeling it. He falls forward so close to your face, but his eyes snap shut. You hold him by the jaw, craving to close the space, but you refuse. He pushes forward and fucks you harder.

"Fuck, right there," you squeal.

He keeps himself there, fucking you right where you want it until you're too close.

"Yes—more—please," you whimper.

He grunts in your ear and doesn't stop. He grabs hold of your thighs, pushing your legs up, still plowing into you.

Then, you're coming so fast you can't think straight. It's never usually so abrupt, so intense. But you're levitating up, clambering to hold onto him as your body jolts and shakes with the shock of your orgasm flooding through you.

"God, god, ahhhhgn," you yell right in his ear but it doesn't phase him, he's still fucking you like his life depends on it, like you'll die if he doesn't prolong this orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

And it's so much. Waves of pleasure won't stop washing over you that when he plunges into you and groans brokenly, you're actually relieved that he's coming.

You're holding onto him so tightly, he doesn't pull out of you for a long time. He lies with you, breathing into your neck, warming your skin as you try to recover from your high.

And fuck, how was that so much better than the last seven months with your ex? Why haven't you been having more one-night stands, you wonder.

Finally, he sits up and looks at you.

"I'm Bucky, by the way," he smiles crookedly.

It's adorable, goddammit.

"I'm y/n."

"Don't hate me," he says and you're about to question what he means when he leans down and kisses you.

You don't hate him, far from it. You grab his face and devour his mouth, his tongue. You're desperate for it. You never thought you'd miss kissing so much. What a dumb, dumb rule.

You whine when he pulls back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"That was torture," he huffs, "not kissing you."

You swallow thickly. "I didn't want tonight to mean anything."

He makes that endearingly confused face again but this time, it's mixed with discontent.

"My boyfriend just broke up with me," you explain quickly. "I was mad."

He slowly pulls out of you and backs away from you. You want to pull him back, not let him leave. He rolls next to you on the bed and lets out a long sigh.

"It's not you, that was… more amazing than it should've been," you confess.

He looks over at you and blinks, his face softening.

"Forget that guy," he says and rolls onto his side to caress the side of your face. "I'll make you forget about him... if you let me."

The offer is more tempting than it should be. This wasn't supposed to go anywhere. When you first saw him in the bar, you didn't even think he'd be interested.

"As long as I can kiss you," he adds.

You laugh unexpectedly because it sounds so ridiculous that this incredibly hot, well-endowed man not only wants to fuck you again but needs to be allowed to kiss you. And you want it all too. So much you need to laugh at how wrong... or right this night has gone.

You dive forward and kiss him. Through the elated breath he inhales, he sounds pleased and kisses you more deeply.

"Sorry for my dumb rule," you break to say. "Kiss me all night."

Bucky smiles and happily pulls you right back to his lips.